It was cold, she felt it on her pale skin.
The cold came slowly, spread, in the air surrounding the princess through short but strong gusts of wind.
Isabelle was there at that moment, she sat silently, without a single sound, without a single word, on the hard leather saddle on the back of her horse.
The short gusts of wind, when accompanied by the cold, made her long, wavy golden hair wave over her shoulders and her delicate back.
Her cheeks were red from the cold, just as her eyes had begun to become more and more moist.
The green grass caressed the hooves of her horse from the top of the coast which in the territories of Cardigan (in western England) gave the princess a beautiful view.
Inside the cold waters of the strait, the territory was occupied by dozens of huge ships, waving the colours of the Irish flag in the air.
They were there to thwart an attack, an attack that had been planned against her and for this she had to make everyone pay for this offence to her house, to her family.
A family that Isabelle no longer had for some time, that she herself had annihilated.
Thomas, her father's illegitimate son and her younger half-brother, she had been the one who pushed him out of a window.
Henry, her older half-brother, she had been the one who had arrested him, but he had escaped.
Juniper, her cousin, she had exiled him along with his bastard to the lands of Scotland.
John, her other cousin, she had poisoned and suffocated him thanks to a pillow.
Her family was now herself and to survive she had to rely on her own strength, this and nothing else.
She would have kept the honour of her house high, her honour.
The Irish ships remained motionless, a few kilometers from the shore, no movement, no noise, evidently they did not wait for Isabelle to be aware of the plans that Ireland had prepared and destined for the crown.
The princess had to thank John for this, her cousin, he was so naïve and tied to her beauty, that he had thus ended his very life.
Her beauty was deceiving, it was enough for her to give him her body only for the times necessary to extort all the news from him, every time, after their union, it was like a payment, a small price that he had to pay in order to keep that relationship.
Isabelle was a royal, she didn't need any money, but she was smart enough to know how to approach different people.
The princess looked up at the sky, closed her eyes, she felt the softness of her wavy golden hair on her back, felt them moving, being blown by the wind.
The sky, she felt its beauty, the delicacy of the blue color of that it reflected, covered by a few and rare white clouds, going all the way down to the horizon, up to the blue sea.
She heard behind her back talking about her, heard the voice she had always known, the voice of her mother, but it was not the soft, relaxed voice she often heard at court.
Her mother gossiped about her, conversed with her faithful courtesan, Lady Johanna Cross.
Her mother, the same person who had brought her into this world, Isabelle heard her fear in her voice, the queen feared her daughter.
Johanna Cross, she felt she hated her most of all and she felt that if she had the chance she would have loved the idea of being able to see the princess's head hanging from a pike.
Isabelle had taken both of her children from the woman, the rebel Francis Hoover and young Thomas Cross who was only thirteen at the age of her death.
Isabelle's whitish blonde lashes began to be stained with small, cold, moist and delicate droplets of dew.
It was already a lot of pressure to feel the looks, the criticisms of those people and the Irish, that situation, those ships, everything was all too suspicious.
Isabelle looked at one of the lieutenants who in that case had accompanied her to the battlefield, it was so nice to be able to look at him from that luxurious position, from top to bottom, it made her feel safer in a way.
-How many are they?- asked the princess, slightly lowering her sweet face towards the man.
-Surely more than a dozen, your majesty...- concluded the man looking away with a look of seriousness.
It was also clear the man was not for the idea of annihilating those ships and thus killing all the soldiers who found themselves on them, but he was a servant of the crown, he was obliged to act in such a way.
The English troops were fewer in number than the Irish ones, but unlike the others they possessed something more, they possessed cannons.
Six of enormous size and particularly good aim.
It would have been enough that each of them had fired only twice to sink each of the numerous ships and thus kill the crew.
Isabelle noticed from the ship closest to the coast the figure of Annalise Dustin, she observed the dark red hair of the woman, illuminated by a few grey hair and closed in a braid, also being blown by the wind on her back.
She looked at her dress, the color of green, of the leaves, of her cloak, the color of the dark forest.
Annalise knew her life was now in the hands of the princess, who at that moment was watching her from above towards the sea.
She held one of her hands closed, clutched at the ship's heavy wooden bowsprit.
-Will you kill her?- a voice echoed Isabelle's ears, in the princess's head.
She felt from behind her back the presence of Gilbert, of her of his soul, she felt the blank stare of her dead husband trying to stop her from that action.
-Will you kill a woman who only tries to avenge her children?-.
Isabelle covered her ears, lowered her face, her eyes began to tremble too.
It was certainly another of the apparitions, damned guilt, damned the souls of the people she had killed, damned the ghosts that moved in her soul.
-Be silent!- she ordered, desperate for the situation.
She was starting to feel a severe headache, she felt the souls of the dead now wanting to come out of her.
Thomas, Abigail, Francis, the twins William and Dickon, John, they were too many, too many to keep trapped forever.
She had to put an end to this, she had to act.
She felt the invisible, dull and cold touch of a small hand on her hands, which held the cold barrel of the gun in her fingers.
That morning she had forgotten to take her drug, was that why she was so upset at that moment?
-Don't do it, please mother- she heard the sweet voice, the most delicate ever heard, the voice of her deceased and young daughter, Charlotte, she missed her incredibly with all her heart and the hearing of her voice brought a smile to her face.
-I'm sorry, my dear, I'll have to, for another time...-.
She raised the rifle to the sky, pulled the small golden trigger, let a bullet fly through the air.
That was the signal that this battle had to begin.
The guns began firing, one after the other.
KABOOM!
One shot, one less boat, one more.
Seeing the explosion, the blow, the fire, the ships slowly sinking, seeing the death of all those soldiers in the face, it was sadistically beautiful for her.
And this time she not only felt she had gained the fear of her own mother and Johanna Cross, but behind back she also felt the immateriality of the people she had killed.
She saw them in line, side by side, she also felt their pale eyes tremble with fear in front of so much cruelty and coldness.
She was feared by everyone at that moment and that was crucial to her long reign, the fear, the terror, so that she could scare possible murderers from ending her life.
Isabelle smiled, stood there, until each huge boat exploded and completely lowered into the cold blue water.
Until the bodies of the dead soldiers came ashore, staining the pure salt water of the sea the red of their own blood.
Until she saw the same body of Annalise Dustin coming ashore, transported by the water.
But that immediately made her smile disappear.
The woman's red hair was scattered around her head, long reaching her breasts.
And her eyes no longer trembled with fear as before, they were confident, proud, they weren't frightened, they felt no fear.
Annalise was smiling, she had a wide smile on her soft lips.
How could she? How could someone be so proud and sure at the hour of her death, how could someone, with clothes stained with their same blood, be happy not to be there anymore?
Were the twins what she wanted? Did she know she could return to them in another world, her children, was it just what she wanted? Have them back with her?