Royal Fools

VII. Peace Offerings

"When she cracked out into the world, I knew she was special." She sniffled, wiping tears with the pads of her fingers. "By then, I was on the verge of madness, you see." Henry slowly nodded, a look of schooled empathy on his face. "We were sent here with no one. Forced to fend for ourselves. No servants..." She moved her hand as she talked, and for a reason, it stopped in his direction just long enough to make him feel it was all his fault.

She let out a shaky breath. "But just as I thought about giving up, she came into our lives. She reminded me of myself. She was in her little shell. She was safe there. But she dared crack it open and found herself in a much bigger world and survived it. The other chicks picked on her, but she didn't mind." She stopped, crying even harder.

Emory frowned, slowly losing patience. Why did he have to sit in the parlor listening to this?

"Since then, I'd look forward to every morning. I saw her grow and adapt. And I did as well. Or at least I tried to do the same." Her eyes slanted toward him, sharp and unforgiving. "Each time I'd come to the coop, she'd greet me tenderly. And whenever I collected her eggs, she didn't mind. But I'd bring them to Mrs. Fitzwilliam because I couldn't bring myself to eat them."

This was getting ridiculous. The first time they met, she was carrying a bloody chicken she meant to slaughter. And now she was crying because he did.

Emory stood and finally spoke. "Once more, I'm sorry for your loss, my lady. I didn't know the chicken was dear to you, nor was I aware they were yours."

She pursed her lips and wiped more tears off her cheeks. Henry threw him a look of warning.

"But I have lunch to prepare," he said.

"But not Henrietta!" Lucy cried out.

"No, not Henrietta, of course," his cousin hastily replied. "Lord Stanton will find something else to prepare."

"I'll hold a little funeral for Henrietta," was all she said as she rose to her feet.

Later, through the kitchen window, they watched her kneel before a small mound of dirt. "She's really crying, isn't she?" he asked aloud.

"Everyone's not as heartless as you are, cousin," Henry said with a sigh. "She has a pure heart, wouldn't you agree?"

"Pure? No. Odd, mayhap." He turned around to return to kneading a dough. "Tell her I'd like to personally deliver the Grand Princess her meal."

"You insensitive bastard. She's grieving."

"She can cry all she wants as she climbs up the stairs to inform her cousin about the meeting."

Henry sighed and walked out of the kitchen. Emory watched through the window as his cousin approached Lucy.

His gaze fixed on her face as she listened to Henry. She looked lost, trying to keep her composure. Her eyes veered toward the window and onto him. He almost looked away, but he held himself steady until she spoke her reply.

As his cousin nodded and turned away to return to the kitchen, Emory caught his eyes. Henry gestured a slicing motion with his hand across his neck.

"Because of a bloody chicken?" he mouthed in frustration.

Henry nodded and shrugged.

***

The next day, Lucy was apparently still grieving, and as he learned from Henry, the Grand Princess learned of Henrietta's passing and refused to see the man who killed her. Frustrating as it may be, Emory tried to be patient.

For two more days, he left them alone. However, on the fourth day, he had enough.

He waited in the courtyard early that morning. When she walked out, dressed in a simple light blue dress, hair still a little rumpled from bed, and face still puffy, he leaned away from the wall and met her. She walked past him without a glance and straight to the chicken coop.