Beatrice had been pacing for hours.
The fever had passed. The ache in her ribs dulled. But the weight in her chest hadn't lifted, not since the failed conversation with the queen. Not since she realized the truth wouldn't just be dismissed.
It would be silenced.
And now, she needed to try again.
She found Francois in the west courtyard, beneath the stone arches. He stood with his back to her, watching the early frost cling to the fountain's edge.
She approached slowly. He turned, and when he saw her face, the smile dropped.
"You should be resting."
"I need to tell you something." Her voice was tight. "About the attempt. About my family."
Francois stilled.
Beatrice drew a breath. She opened her mouth.
Pain.
It hit fast. Sharp. Crawling up her spine like fire. Her knees nearly buckled, but she caught herself against the edge of the stone.
"Lady Beatrice?"
She tried again.
But nothing.
