"She really wore all black?" I lean on the balcony, admiring the night sky beyond me. The candles that light the outdoor hallways look like pinpricks from this distance.
"Like a woman in mourning, your highness. When the judge inquired about her dark clothing, she replied that she was mourning the child that her husband had killed," Marie replied with a smile in her voice. She stands at the cusp of the wide French doors of my chambers that lead out to the balcony, maintaining a short distance between us.
I nod approvingly, turning around to face Marie. "Just as I told her."
As a woman, and especially as a princess, I am not able to bear witness to the trial. A strange game of telephone between Marie's nephew, Marie, and myself has been enacted since the trial began a week ago, three weeks since my heart-to-heart talk with Augustus.
