- Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! - a voice screamed inside the huge royal hall, before the sound of some glass broke with force against one of the majestic and white walls of the royal palace.
A thousand shards of precious crystal shattered on the floor, together with the red and tasty wine, which was scattered in patches on the marble floor.
Isabelle stood there red with anger.
Her big eyes were wet with salty tears.
The princess rubbed the small knuckles of her pale hands against her large eyes.
The baby in her womb kicked, probably sensed his mother's anger.
Isabelle realized it, smiled, she couldn't do anything else, she gently rubbed one of her hands over her swollen abdomen.
-It's all right baby- the princess whispered trying to seem as calm as possible.
But Isabelle knew all was not well, she had just been warned by some of the royal guards, with the duty of night surveillance that morning, that the Marquis and foreign minister of economy, Lord Edward Hoover had been found in her bed with his throat open.
Without any foreign minister, she would not have been able to advance with the invasion plan to France and thus she would not have been able to react quickly to the provocations of the others.
In addition, she had been warned in the morning that an army of one hundred men had approached a couple of kilometers from the castle.
She was tired of living in constant fear.
Not everything was fine, nothing was fine, only more problems piled up on her shoulders and those of her child.
Two sharp knocks were knocked on the heavy door of the royal hall.
-Please, come in- answered nervously the young woman sitting on her precious chair upholstered in red fabric.
Soon one of the guards entered the room, holding a large and wide white handkerchief in his arms, almost like a bundle.
-My lady- dared him giving a composed bow to the princess and returning only afterwards to observe the anguished face of the young woman.
-So...what is inside this white bundle?-.
The guard could be recognised by the blue jacket, he was a prison guard, Isabelle knew him and she knew that whatever he had to say was about her half brother.
At those words the guard took off the sides of the white bundle, untying it and revealing long blond hair, the colour of gold.
The princess recognised it, it was the same hair colour that had been passed on for generations in the family of her deceased father, it could only be Henry's.
-This morning two prison guards found these inside your brother's cell, but unfortunately no trace of the prince was found...-.
At those words Isabelle reached the peak of her fury, she rose nimbly from the chair, angrily clapping both of her hands against the precious oak table.
Her face was completely red and it seemed to the guard that the princess' wavy golden hair almost swelled slowly upon hearing the news.
-That son of a whore!- the young woman exclaimed in fury losing all inhibitory sense -I swear if I had to find him just one more time in front of my eyes, I will cut off his head and hang it on a pike in the city and I will give his body to the dogs!-.
Just at that moment her mother entered the room, Isabelle was not expecting her visit but strangely she saw with a glance, that from behind her shoulders another person appeared, a young man whom she never knew nor had ever seen.
Lady Katherine, given the desperate conditions of her daughter, soon understood that something should be done.
-Please- she pleaded the guard, who replied to the words of the sovereign with a quick bow -let me spend some private time with my daughter-.
At those orders and without saying anything more the guard bowed again closing the door behind the two women and the young man.
As soon as they left the room the princess threw herself in desperation into her mother's arms, she wept and hugged her.
Lady Katherine on his side caressed the soft and wavy hair of her daughter, in a so informal way that she refrained from any rules imposed by the society full of expectations.
-Oh mother!- Isabelle wept shedding transparent and salty tears on her cheeks -you don't know how many problems are accumulating on my shoulders...for example have you heard what happened to Minister Hoover?-.
-Unfortunately yes, my dear- the woman soon turned a smile at the young man behind her, they seemed to know each other -I found out, but don't you worry, I came to offer you an adequate solution-.
At those words the graceful woman seemed to move, letting the young daughter completely see who was behind her.
He was a young man in his twenties.
Isabelle could see his pale face, he was cute, his hair was curly and black.
He had beautiful brown eyes.
The young man gently took the back of one of the small hands of the princess and slowly bowing, gave her a kiss.
-This is prince Aleksei Romanov, third and last son of the Tsar of Russia, as well as the son of my dear younger sister Anne- explained the sovereign placing one of her delicate hands on one of the shoulders of her nephew.
Thus, the one who now stood before her eyes, the prince of Russia, was actually Isabelle's own cousin.
The princess thought about it and thought about her, how could that young man save her from such a difficult situation, much less how useful it was to make her acquaintance with her in a moment like that.
-It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Isabelle- Aleksei admitted bowing.
The young prince of Russia was charming.
Isabelle, although she was still crying, hinted at a slight smile and made a bow, less elegant, but still noble and royal.
-You see...- interrupted the queen, putting an end to the first meeting of the two cousins -prince Aleksei has just finished his studies in the most prestigious Russian law and economy university, he has proposed himself to help you, as a personal foreign minister-.
Isabelle, in her short but intense life as regent knew the nobles were like snakes, scorpions and hawks.
They would never place their help on another without something in return, and she was sure that was the case too.
- At what cost?- the princess ventured question by slowly putting her little hands one inside the other and turning her eyes towards him, exchanging a warm and gentle glance with her own cousin.
-Marry me Isabelle and I will be faithful to you, always, in work and as your husband...- the prince observed her with his fascinating brown eyes.
Isabelle stood with her lips slightly parted, she didn't know what to say, she had no idea, all of this was just too all together for her.
She did not expect a marriage request on the spot, on the other hand she now felt in duty to marry Francis, she had promised it to his dead father and uncle.
But a foreign minister was what she needed most at the moment and the fact that he was a relative of her and at the same time her future husband reassured her.
Furthermore, it would not have been easy to raise a child alone, her child needed a father even if only as a figure before the critical eyes of society.
-Yes, I do-.