Queen Mary said nothing after hearing the news. She lowered her gaze and tried her best to hide the turmoil in her heart. A thousand thoughts began to stir—about the ongoing war, the succession, the missing seal, the vanished princess... and the uncertain storm that would now descend upon the kingdom.
"Ring the bell," the Queen instructed in a low voice after calming herself a little. The death of the King was not sothing she could hide. Over the past few days, she had been making subtle adjustnts. The storm had beco inevitable; it was better for her to take the lead.
The servant beside her bowed and left to carry out the instructions.
Queen Mary imdiately made her way to her husband’s study. She had no ti to grieve. Her two children were outside the royal city, and as their mother, she could only do her best to protect their interests.
When she returned to the study, the blood had already been cleaned up and everything looked pristine. Her gaze fell first on the letter on the table. A few drops of blood stained it. She thought that since it was what her husband had been reading before the poison took effect, she should read it.
anwhile, the whole royal city—on the verge of sleep—was awakened by the sound of the bell.
At first, when the bell rang, people wondered what had happened. Of course, they all knew it could not be good, for the chi was loud and heavy with sorrow.
"Who do you think died?" one man whispered to his friend on the street.
"I don’t know, but the bell is from the palace. It must be soone noble." He had not even finished speaking when another chi followed, and then another. Five sounds in succession.
"It’s definitely a mber of the royal family," his friend said, counting the tolls.
"Could it be the missing princess? Perhaps they found her body," the man guessed.
"Or the second prince. I heard he’s seriously injured and hasn’t been brought back to the royal city because of it," the friend added. But just then, another ring echoed, this ti accompanied by ceremonial instrunts.
"The King... it’s definitely the King," they both said at once. Only the King’s death would be announced in such a manner.
The commoners were stunned. No one had heard that the King was ill—how could he suddenly die?
As the last chi faded, the sound of mourning spread from many corners. It was ceremonial: once the King died, the entire kingdom was expected to mourn.
It wasn’t just the commoners who were taken by surprise. Even the nobles were shocked—especially the mbers of the royal council, who had recently been in court to discuss important matters.
They rembered that the King had been unwell for so ti, and had even allowed the Queen to handle certain affairs. But he had appeared well for a while, and they had all stopped worrying about his health. His sudden death ca as a surprise to many—and sparked thoughts in so about the throne.
"My son, listen to your mother. You are your father’s biological child. With the Crown Prince at war, it is only natural for you to seize power in the capital and keep the kingdom stable," Lady Susan, the royal mistress of the late King, urged.
The third prince looked at his mother and sighed.
"Do you think the Queen is a pushover? Do you really believe she will let take her son’s place and seize power?" he asked. He couldn’t understand what his mother was thinking.
Growing up, it was the Queen who arranged for him and his mother to live outside the palace. He had heard from a trusted source close to his father that the Queen once wanted to send him to the Sixth Region to serve as Warden of the Marches. Fortunately, the King had refused and instead made him a Baron. Though the position wasn’t high, it allowed him to remain in the royal city. Now that the King was dead, why would he risk everything by going against the Queen?
Which noble would ever support a mistress’s son over the Queen’s legitimate heir? His only chance would be if both princes were dead or rendered useless.
"What are you saying? You’d only be helping your brother carry the burden. I already heard the King was poisoned. I’ve arranged for a few Privy Council mbers to speak on your behalf," Lady Susan said.
"No," the third prince shook his head. "If the King was poisoned, it ans soone is plotting against the royal family. Why would I step forward just to be the next target?"
"Why are you like this? Even if you can’t beco the next King, by taking initiative now, you could be granted a dukedom in the future," Lady Susan pressed on, unwilling to give up.
"Mother, say no more. I will not get involved. We already live comfortably," he said firmly. It wasn’t that the third prince lacked ambition or never dread of the throne—but he understood the limits of his resources. Making a move now would be no different from rushing to his death.
His mother had started planning the mont she heard the King was poisoned. Did she really think the Queen would have no counterasures? He was certain the first person the Queen would guard against was himself.
Moreover, any noble willing to support a mistress’s son was likely soone without status—soone hoping to use him to climb higher. There was also the possibility that the person backing him was involved in the King’s poisoning and wanted to use him as a scapegoat.
Seeing her son continue to refuse, Lady Susan felt helpless. She wanted to curse at him but held her tongue.
"Anyway, we must enter the palace tomorrow to attend the first eting," Lady Susan finally said.
Usually, after a King’s death, the kingdom mourned for six days. The Crown Prince would hold a morning eting with the nobles to discuss the King’s burial, and later address the commoners gathered outside the palace walls. But now that the Crown Prince was absent, soone else would have to perform these duties.
Those eager n were ready to step in—and she was confident the responsibility would fall on her son, as the only royal prince currently in the capital.
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