Chapter 79

Philip de Tournois’ POV

I concluded my report on the Holy Land campaign. My brother, the king, stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the darkness beyond. The hour was late, but matters of state demanded our attention.

Henry's fury shook the study, his fist striking the oak table so hard that the parchments jumped. The golden crown glinted dangerously in the torchlight as he leaned forward on his throne.

"Are you saying We cannot punish Beatrice Blackwood for her crimes?" His voice resonated with barely contained rage.

I maintained my composure, choosing my words carefully. "The Byzantine Empire has already extracted their revenge, though they prefer to keep it quiet. Sullancourt likely thought Beatrice would succumb to shame and take her own life. He underestimated her - she never had any intention of such an end."

"And what of the village massacre?" Henry's eyes narrowed. "Did Sullancourt make no mention of it, even during the battles at the Byzantine border?"

I shook my head, my commander's cloak shifting with the movement. "Not a word. Everyone knows the truth of it, but they have greater concerns. Their Crown Prince is dead, the Emperor gravely ill, and with no heir to the throne, Byzantine is consumed by succession struggles. They prize their royal dignity above all - they haven't even announced their Crown Prince's death to their own people yet. They're likely crafting some palatable story to explain his demise to their subjects."

"But if Tristan Ravenscroft claims the Byzantine throne," he said, his voice grave, "and if he uncovers the truth about his brother's death, he may well march on St. Croix Fortress again. His ambitions are well known, and Sullancourt can't restrain him. He paused, turning to face me. "However, there's another matter requiring immediate attention."

Something in his tone made me uneasy. The familiar weight of my sword at my hip offered little comfort as I waited.

"I've decided to arrange a marriage for Isabella de Montfort," he announced. "Duke Stonehaven has expressed interest."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. "Your Majesty, this is too soon. She's barely—"

"The match is suitable," Henry cut in. "His status and resources would benefit her family considerably."

"Has anyone consulted her wishes?" I fought to keep my voice steady. "After everything with William—"

"Since when does a general concern himself so deeply with marriage arrangements?" His eyes narrowed. "Unless there's another reason for your objection, Philip?"

I fell silent, my thoughts in chaos. The candlelight seemed to dim, shadows creeping closer as I struggled to find the right words.

"The Queen Mother," I began again, grasping at any possibility. "Surely she would agree that more time—"

"I will speak with her myself." Henry's tone carried the finality of a drawn sword. "The decree will be issued tomorrow. You will inform Isabella personally."

Through the haze of thoughts swirling in my mind, one clarity emerged with crystal sharpness: I could not allow Henry to marry Isabella to Duke Stonehaven. Not like this. Not to a foreign noble who saw her as nothing more than a political advantage.

"She's under my command," I stated firmly, meeting my brother's gaze across the candlelit study. "You can't simply arrange her marriage without—"

"Since when does a commander question the deployment of resources?" Henry's voice held an edge of steel.

My jaw tightened. "She isn't an enemy territory to be conquered. She's a person who has barely recovered from—"

"The alliance would strengthen our diplomatic ties," Henry cut in, his fingers drumming against the windowsill. "Duke Stonehaven's support—"

"Diplomatic ties?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "That's your justification for sending her to a foreign land against her will?"

"Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the good of the realm."

"Her happiness isn't a sacrifice to be made on the altar of politics!" The words burst from me with more force than intended. I realized I was standing, my hands clenched at my sides. "She deserves better than to be treated as a political pawn."

Henry's eyes narrowed. "You forget yourself, brother."

"No." I straightened, letting my military bearing show through. "I remember exactly who I am. I'm her commanding officer, and I have a duty to protect those under my command."

"From me?" A dangerous note entered his voice.

"From anyone who would harm her." I moved to the door and called out, "Bring bedding to the study. I'll be staying here tonight."

Henry's eyebrows rose. "You dare?"

"If that's what it takes to prevent a hasty decree, yes." The wine from the victory celebration was making my head swim slightly, but my resolve remained firm. "Who else will protect her if not me?"

A long silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft crackle of candles. Finally, Henry sighed, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

"Very well. I will... consider her wishes before making any formal arrangements."

I knew it wasn't a complete victory, but it was something. The room swayed slightly as servants brought in bedding, and I realized the wine was hitting me harder than I'd thought.

"You're impossible when you're like this," Henry muttered, but there was a hint of fondness in his exasperation. "Take him to his chambers," he ordered the servants. "He's too drunk to stage an effective protest anyway."