To Her Royal Majesty The Queen,

I must inform you that my brother, Gregory de Chauvelot had died of the plague last night. I have arranged a private burial here in Sutherland, but we cannot hold a funeral out of fear of the plague.

If you are willing, please hold a memorial, however small or insignificant, for my brother's soul. He barely had the time to grow up, and soon people shall forget about him. But if a memorial is held, then people shall remember him. They will know that Gregory de Chauvelot had once lived, had once existed.

I hope that you and the rest of the royal family shall pray for his soul, for he is one that is without sin.

Cecily Winterbourne
Duchess of Sutherland

        I folded up the letter and tossed it down onto the table. My head throbbed with pain as I read the letter over and over again, and I cursed in my heart.

This is truly the worst thing that could ever happen. Now, the Hasteburn brothers began to preach to me with more zeal and confidence, and the eastern people had become more vocal in voicing out their displeasure.

Gregory de Chauvelot had been the son of Jane Ainsworth, daughter of the Marquis of Lansbury. Though the members of the House of Ainsworth are all either demoted to commoners or dead, some of their supporters live on, and they are furious.

        Rumours began to spread how I purposely started the plague in Sutherland so that I could kill off the bad king Edward's only son, which deviated completely from the original rumour, in which a plague had struck Phoenicia due to God's wrath at me. So which one is it? Which one do they want to believe in?

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, I truly wanted to, but I could not.

The supporters of House Ainsworth have now reached the capital, demanding justice for their 'martyred' prince.

        "They want you to be held responsible for his death, Anne," my father confides to me. "They say that you were the one who killed him."

        "But why would I? He was already deposed long before he died, so why would I kill him? He isn't a threat to me or Elisabeth, and I am not so cruel as to order the death of a harmless little boy!" I argue desperately.

I would be lying if I said that I was not at all affected by Prince Gregory's death. After all, I was the first person who knew of his mother's pregnancy, and it was also I who took care of his mother while she was carrying him in her womb.

He was born prematurely due to my own schemings, and he stopped developing mentally as a result of the poisoned incense I gave to his pregnant mother.

Perhaps the accusations are true. Just like Prince George, Prince Gregory also died because of me. The only difference is that while Prince George was poisoned by accident, I had knowingly poisoned Prince Gregory while he was still in the womb.

          "I want you to arrange a memorial for him. A grand one, fit for a royal prince. Decorate the hall with thistles and sunflowers, and hire a choir to sing a requiem for his soul. This is the least I could do for him."

Several days after the memorial, another dreadful news arrived. My late sister's husband, the Earl of Springledge, Lord Byron, was infected by the plague and had died.

Thankfully, my nephew Orion was unaffected. As he is now orphaned, I discussed with my father and brother, and we decided that he should be raised alongside my children here at the palace.

The chubby little boy is almost two years old now. He will celebrate his birthday in a few weeks from now, though I do not feel the slightest amount of joy when I think of that upcoming date.

Perhaps, it is best if the little boy never knows that his mother died on the very same day he was born.

My father personally went down to Springledge to retrieve Orion, now legally the Earl of Springledge. On the day he was supposed to be brought to the palace, an unwelcome visitor came knocking at our doors.

It was a face that I had not seen in a long time, but even a single glance was enough to revive old grievances.

The Marquis of Lockebel saunters carefreely around my court as if it were his own ancestral home, touching and picking at ornaments and paintings as he pleased.

        "What brings you here, Lord Huntingdon ?" I question calmly. My tone was neither cool nor warm, just courteous enough to hide the resentment that was leaking out of my pores.

        "I heard that the man who took my son away from me has died. I wish to take my son back with me, so that we may build our relationship, something that we never had the chance to do."

His words buzzed around in my head, and instead of feeling sympathy like he intended me to, I felt disdain and disgust. My sister was right. The Marquis of Lockebel is a vile, disgusting creature.

Upon discovering about Lord Byron's death, he rushed over here without fear of the plague, all for the sake of claiming Orion's parentage.

Orion's value in the Marquis's eyes probably grew tenfold overnight, as he now shall inherit a sizable portion of House Winterbourne's vast wealth, as well as the entire Byron fortune, including the title of the Earl of Springledge.

Even if he had to throw his dignity away, the Marquis would be willing to do so.

     Although I wanted to curse him to hell and back, I kept my composure and decided to bargain with him.

          "Of course you may," I say, and a smile began to form on the Marquis's lips. "But under one condition."

His smile drooped considerably, but he still managed to maintain a pretence of cordiality. "What is it, Your Majesty? I am willing to do whatever it takes to have my son back."

I brushed off his enthusiasm. " There's no need for you to do anything. You can take Orion with you, under the condition that all his wealth, no matter if it is Winterbourne or Byron fortune, shall be reverted back to the crown. If he truly is your son, then he is undeserving of the late earl's title, isn't that right Marquis ?"

            "You mean to strip a little innocent boy of his inheritance," he argued, and this time, he could hide his resentment no longer. "You mean to steal from him!"

            "What stealing? If he is truly your son, then the only fortune he is entitled to is yours!" I spat vehemently. "Do you think I do not know that the only reason why you are so adamant to claim Orion as your son is because he is the heir of a great fortune? If he is truly your son, then you will accept him regardless of whether he shall inherit the fortune or not!"

The Marquis's faux smile had completely vanished at his point, and I could hear him chuckle darkly. "He has taught you well. Well, what else can be expected of the usurper's queen ?"

I scoffed. "The usurper's queen ?"

              "Everyone knows that Edmund is a usurper. The throne that he sits upon is stolen, and you, my queen, are unworthy of that crown sitting on top of your head. You and he are both the same. Usurpers! Thieves !"

              "Watch your tongue !" Argenta shouted in rage.

The Marquis turned around to face Argenta, and within the blink of an eye, his hands were already tightly wrapped around her neck. "How dare a little wretch like you tell me what to do? I am a prince of the blood, while you are nothing but a stupid whore!"

That was the final straw for me, and without realising it, I had already lunged at the Marquis. I pulled on his long hair as hard as I could, enough to make his scalp separate from his head. Upon feeling the searing pain, he abruptly let go of Argenta and turned towards me, ready to strangle me next.

However, just before he could touch me, a loud voice echoed from the end of the hall, "Reuel!"

I glanced around to see my husband standing there, his eyes wide with both rage and disbelief.

Upon seeing Edmund, the Marquis's personality changed in almost an instant. "Cousin," he greeted warmly. "What a pleasure it is to see you."

I wanted to intervene, to expose his horrid and disgusting ways to the world, but before I could utter even a single word, I felt a stabbing pain around my lower abdomen.

         "Ah, the little prince is coming," the Marquis remarked. "Let me assist you, Your Majesty. You must be in terrible pain, just like poor Lisbeth was."

The pain worsened, and as I tried to evade his hands, I tripped on the hem of my long skirt. I could feel myself fall, but before I hit the stone floor, a pair of strong arms caught me, preventing me from falling.

         "Leave, Reuel," Edmund shouted. His hands that were tightly wrapped around me were trembling with rage, as if he were trying his best not to lunge and stab the Marquis at this very moment.

          "You can't kick me out, Cousin," the Marquis drawled, seemingly unaffected by the King's wrath. "I am a prince of the blood. You and I come from the same ancestor, and this palace is mine, as much as it is yours."

           "Perhaps you have forgotten the fact that I am the ruler of this kingdom. I can and will kick you out from here. Guards!"

Upon hearing the King's summon, the guards swarmed into the hall and apprehended the Marquis.

           "Do not touch me!" he shouted. "I am a prince of the blood!"

He yelled and screeched, but the guards did not relent. With remarkable ease, the Marquis was escorted out of the hall.

            "Come, Anne," I hear Edmund say. "It is time."