Last night was dreadful for Jack; he had attempted to sleep in vain. He couldn't banish Elizabeth from his thoughts, and the burden of guilt weighed heavily upon him. He vividly recalled seeing her tear-streaked face, beseeching him frantically to save her enslaved maid from execution. And when she endured merciless flogging, a pang of sorrow pierced his heart.
He was well aware of who Nicholas was—a brute. Nicholas, his older half-brother and the son of the former Queen Rose, and Jack were far from close; they were, in fact, more like adversaries who seldom agreed on anything. Jack nursed jealousy towards Nicholas and wished he were the heir to the throne.
An intense desire to march to Nicholas's chamber and rescue Elizabeth from him stirred within him, but he promptly dismissed it. Jack obstinately refused to help Elizabeth—no, he wouldn't. He had made a personal vow to avoid entanglement with any lady. The throne took precedence.
The door to his chamber swung open, and in entered his mother, Queen Clara. It had to be her; who else would dare to intrude without permission?
He let out a deep sigh and sat up on his bed, watching as his elegantly dressed mother, in a brown lace gown with her hair in a ponytail, approached.
She rested her hand on her hip. "Are you being serious now?" Clara scrutinized her son, who lay sprawled on the bed. "You should be up and about, my son; it's already morning."
Jack sighed once more as he reluctantly rose from his bed. "Mother, I simply desire a peaceful day, devoid of your nagging, I implore."
Jack retrieved his jacket from the bedside and draped it over his bare chest.
"Nonsense. We have weightier matters at hand; you can't while away the time doing absolutely nothing, my son." She paused and then moved closer to Jack, who faced the mirror. "And what happened yesterday?"
"What?" Jack picked up a razor and began tending to his slight scruff.
"That enslaved princess," Clara gestured in frustration. "Why were you so determined to save her?"
He placed the blade on the headboard and turned to his mother. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mother."
Clara walked toward the bed and took a seat. "Are you certain you don't harbor any feelings for her?"
Jack threw his head back and erupted in a chuckle. "That's preposterous, Mother. I did it simply to vex Nicholas and provoke him."
Clara raised a brow, not fully grasping her son's intent.
"Allow me to explain, Mother. I have a grudge against Nicholas. He's out there indulging with women while engaged to be married. Father warned him to wait until the marriage, but he paid no heed. And guess what?" His lips curled into a smirk. "I caught him with Minister Eugene's young wife, and he implored me not to inform Father."
"So that's your leverage over him, hmm? But I hope you don't have feelings for Elizabeth."
"Oh, come on, Mother." Jack rolled his eyes before turning back to the mirror.
"Anyway, I came here because I want you to pursue Arabella."
Jack shook his head and used his hands to smooth his long black hair. "We've already discussed this, Mother; she's Nicholas's fiancée."
"And that's about to change."
Once more, Jack turned to face his mother, his brows knitted in confusion.
Queen Clara smiled mischievously. "I have a plan in motion. Slowly but surely, you'll ascend to the throne, and marrying Arabella is the first step. All I need from you is to persuade her while I persuade your father, understood?"
Jack was left stunned and unable to utter a word as he watched Queen Clara exit his chamber. What did his mother have up her sleeves now, he wondered.
Arabella was a beautiful woman, but truthfully, he wasn't interested in her, especially now that Elizabeth was in the picture. He must muster his resolve; yes, that was the path he would take. The throne held paramount significance, so Arabella it would be.
**************
Queen Clara made her way to the King's chambers, confident that he would be by the fireplace, sipping a hot cup of tea at that hour. She entered slowly, smoothed her dress, and approached the king, who reclined in his chair near the hearth.
"My king," she curtsied. "Greetings."
"Come, my beloved," he beckoned for her to sit beside him. "You look elegant."
"Thank you, my lord."
"Would you like some tea?"
"No," she shook her head before displaying a slight frown.
"Is everything alright, my queen? You appear troubled."
She nodded solemnly. "I am unsure how to broach this matter, my king."
"Please, speak your mind," Murdoch set his teacup aside. "It must be of importance."
"It concerns General Richard," she said hesitantly, gauging the king's reaction. Murdoch furrowed his brows, still somewhat perplexed. "He's been proclaiming to all that he was solely responsible for conquering Vitalis and other kingdoms."
Murdoch's face contorted into a deep scowl, anger evident.
"You must act swiftly, my Lord; he's gaining too much power and favor among the people. We must curtail his influence."
"That scoundrel," Murdoch snarled, feeling anger well up from the pit of his stomach. "I will not stand by and watch him seize my kingdom."
"Then act swiftly; cancel his daughter Arabella's betrothal to Nicholas!"
Murdoch's brows furrowed in confusion, and then realization dawned on him. Making General Richard his kin by marriage would grant him excessive power—yes, that was his course of action.
"That's an excellent idea. I'll devise a suitable excuse and dissolve the engagement," he affirmed.
"Thank you, my king. You've made the right decision." Queen Clara smiled to herself; her plan was unfolding as intended.