#eviebeaumont

Genevieve Beaumont had been an advocate for the release of Alexandir Godiva from the moment he had been imprisoned. She demanded a fair trial on his behalf; the one he was given had been a sham. Even Romayne Vitalis, who had never once attended an Aragothi trial, could tell that it had all only been for show. The Queen knew that she would declare her uncle guilty before it began. 

The Duke hadn’t a chance of being set free. 

Romanye had watched it all with a sense of foreshadowing: he looked at Alexandir: poor and miserable and helpless and he saw his own future. How long would it be before he was put to death for a crime he did not commit because he had outlived his usefulness to the Queen? 

Everyone seemed a little on edge now, except the Queen herself, who would never show such weakness, even if she felt it (although Romayne doubted that Rowena Godiva would quake in fear in front of anyone, little less her uncle - even if he had murdered Jon Valles). Genevieve Beaumont, however, seemed calm in comparison (especially, Romayne thought, when in contrast with her mother). Part of Romayne wondered if Genevieve had gone to Alexandir Godiva’s aid. Romayne himself had betrayed his own brother in order to do what he thought was right. He wondered if Evie Beaumont had done the same.

Rowena had gathered her family around her this evening in the great hall. For their own protection, she had said, they would all stay near her tonight. When Rowena broke away to speak with Cassius on political matters, Romayne casually left her side and approached Genevieve. 

Helena used to know the palace like the back of her hand, but time had blurred her memory. Since her return home, she spent a good deal of her free time walking from one end to the other, rediscovering old pathways and chambers she had forgotten. Everyday, she grew stronger and more like her old self. She no longer had much patience for sitting still. 

In light of the recent murder, she was unable to go anywhere unattended and while the trail of guards sometimes made her feel claustrophobic, she still felt more free exploring the castle than she did in her own rooms. 

It was growing late and she was thinking of turning back when her cousin unexpectedly turned the corner and greeted her. “I didn’t know you were here!” She exclaimed, pulling her into an embrace. 

He had been roused in the early hours of the morning. 

Hours before his execution, Alexandir Godiva and the small gang of pirates had escaped from the prisons. Only once before had any man managed to break free from that place and that was nearly sixteen years ago when Alaric de Montfort disappeared from his cell as though by magic. (Dmitrei had a sneaking suspicion that Dezód had been behind that one). 

Had he been behind this as well? 

He had not been expecting Alexandir to find a way out, but would have betted that Harrion would. Death did not touch him. He braved even the Isle of the Damned and lived to tell the tale. 

This had been a setback in his plans. He’d meant to do away with Alexandir and Jon (and eventually Arthur, as well) all through that one act. But someone had thrown a wrench in those plans. It did not anger him. In a strange way, it pleased him. The business with Jon Valles had been too easy to execute and he was ready for a real challenge. 

He calmly walked the halls of the palace. The guards had been doubled after the murder and now they had been doubled again. There was a set of guards manning every door and a pair followed him around, even now. 

A day had passed and still there was no talk, save of the events that had transpired at the wedding of Jon Valles to Lynessa Beaumont. And Romayne believed that it would be weeks, months even, before they all tired of it. A man dies in the hall of the gods: a man who had no want of enemies and all of them had been there that day. 

Wine had flowed like a river and tempers ran high. None quite so high as the queen’s uncle and his disagreement with Jon Valles had been noted by everyone. And while many seemed to think that he was the murderer (this outburst alone seemed enough to drag him away in chains), Romayne himself was doubtful. Still, he had yet to decide who were his friends here -- if he had friends at all -- and who was the most likely to be able to help him, so he said nothing.His opinion here mattered less than nothing, regardless. Rowena Godiva had made that clear on more than one occasion.

The weather was warming and for that, Romayne was grateful. He walked in a slow aimless circle around the castle’s gardens, enjoying the warmth of the sun. This would be considered a cool day on the Isles, but it would serve. 

It was then that he noticed Lady Genevieve Beaumont cutting across the courtyard. He wondered if she was here to visit her cousins in their comfortable apartments or her future husband in his dark cell? 

“You will want to know about your sister,” He said, eyebrow raised as she approached him. He knew that it could be nothing else with that look. The last time they had spoken, she had asked about Celia, but Dmitrei had only relayed as little as he might “Your mother will have told you by now?” He paused, “I have no more news than I did when we last spoke,” He began, although that was a lie. They had at least made it as far as Vysco, he knew. It would not be long now before they returned: and Dmitre was eager to see this man for himself and confirm his suspicions as to his true identity.

“I cannot promise you that your sister is safe, any more than I can promise that you that I will come to see the dawn. Your mother may wring her hands and pace the floor with worry, but I will say this to you: I believe she is safe and that no harm will come to her. This man who took her from her men must be a great swordsman indeed if he could accomplish such a thing. So what better traveling companion could she hope to have? Oh, I’m sure he is rough around the edges, but he will see that no harm comes to her. He surely knows who she is and what is she worth. All he wants for your sister is gold so he will return her in much the same condition as she was found.” 

He took her arm, “I know this will not cease your worrying, my lady, but hopefully it will ease it some. At least long enough for you to enjoy this most happy occasion. For now you have a brother,” He said, motioning to where Jon Valles was sitting next to his new wife. 

He cracked a slight smile, “Are you disappointed with him?” He asked. His voice was low: he did not want anyone to hear. “I had a brother once,” He began, “Not a brother by blood, but a brother all the same. I was rather let down by him as well. In the end, he died. But then the south is a cruel place. Say what you will about the capital: there aren’t as many funerals.” He couldn’t resist taking one more look at Valles. 

He had tried to see her before, but her mother had been rather unwelcoming (to put it lightly). He supposed the extra guards at the gate should have given him pause, but then Avelina always had been an overprotective mother. 

Are we to meet at the alter as strangers? He had asked. The poor girl was to marry a man old enough to be her father and he was a hideous dwarf, as well. Coupled with whatever horror stories her mother had surely told her about him, he couldn't imagine that he was an appealing prospect. Which was why he thought a meeting before they were wed would be good for her. He knew that all the time in the world couldn't make her love him, but it might help ease her fears. 

Still, Avelina would not be swayed and he was turned away. 

And yet, a man such as Jon Valles passes through these gates as though Beaumont was already his. 

He was uncertain as to his own future (should he even live to see the day of their wedding?), but if the gods were willing, he meant to make a good husband and give her a comfortable life (even if she was meant for a better one). 

Alexandir had been (temporarily, of course as his exile to Raimbeaucourt would soon see an end to it) reinstated onto the Queen's council and it was after such a meeting that he saw Evie Beaumont seated, alone, in one of the courtyards. No doubt she had come to visit one of her cousins, he supposed, but 

For all of her plottings to keep me out, she has failed to keep her own daughter in, he thought to himself, allowing himself a smile as he envisioned Avelina's expression should she be there to see him approach her daughter. 

The courtyards were deserted, save for her. She was so still, seated there with a book, that he might have thought she had frozen if he did not see her turn the page. "Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to startle you, only -- are you not cold?" He asked. She was properly dressed for the weather, still he could see his breath as he spoke. 

Guin had no great love for Lynessa Beaumont (even for all her sweet smiles), but even though they had never been friends, she felt obligated to warn her of the sort of man she was marrying. She was certain that she must not know (what little she really knew about Avelina Beaumont was that she loved her daughters, beyond anything, and allowing one of them to marry Jon Valles, despite what he had, wasn't something Guin suspected she would do if she knew the truth). 

She didn't expect to break the engagement -- that was not why she had come. But Lynessa Beaumont should be prepared for what was to come. She knew that there would be hell to pay if Jon had found out what she had done, but that didn't matter now. 

Most of all, she worried for Evie, too. She knew all too well Jon's view on how women should be treated. Evie was, without doubt, the sweetest and most naive of the Beaumont women and while she was certain that, even she, would see that Jon was not a man to be trusted, she doubted she realized just how horrible he could be. 

The amount of guards that were posted outside of Beaumont surprised Guin. Perhaps this was only an extra precaution by Lady Beaumont since the disappearance of her youngest daughter. A sign that none of the others would be taken so easily, and yet ... one of them was being married to Jon Valles, a fate that was much worse than whatever was befalling Celia Beaumont, if she had been taken by someone who only wanted the ransom.