Chapter 6: The Queen's Mercy

As Mary protested, her voice cracking with panic, Thomas fought back. He lunged forward, his gloved hands catching the rough fabric of her sleeves as he tried to drag her toward the door.

"Please do not make this harder than it already is, miss," Lord Thomas grunted, his grip tightening.

"Leave me alone!" Mary cried, thrashing against his hold. "I'm not leaving this house!"

"Oh yes you are. You are a threat to the kingdom of Camelot."

"Leave me alone, you bloody bastard!"

"Stop this resistance this instant!" Thomas commanded, his noble composure slipping into harsh impatience.

Mary wrenched her arm free, backing away until the spine of her small wooden table pressed into her lower back. "Tell me how I'm a threat when I am so far away! I haven't done anything..."

Thomas stopped. The aggression drained from his face, replaced by a sudden, chilling pity. He lowered his voice, the quiet intensity of his words cutting through the small room. "Do you know what will happen to you if you stay in this city? They will kill you, Mary. If I were you, I would run."

The cold reality of his words struck her like physical blow. The defiance drained out of her, replaced by a paralyzing fear as she realized the true depth of the danger she had stumbled into.

"What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You should consider this banishment a mercy," Thomas said, his tone softening slightly as he stepped closer. "Look... I will help you. I will take you to a safe place. Since you are with child, you will need shelter. I will ensure the payments are taken care of myself. But you must leave this place, and you must never return."

Stunned into absolute silence, Mary couldn't bring herself to argue anymore. Numbly, she moved around the apartment, shoving her few meager belongings into a small duffel bag. She walked out to his waiting car outside, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily on her chest. As they drove away from the apartment she buried her memories in, tears streamed silently down her face, leaving Kingston behind in the dust.

Meanwhile, across the realm in the grand citadel of Camelot, the day of the royal wedding had arrived. Prince Arthur stood before the altar, a hollow weight settling deep in his chest. His mind was plagued by the memory of the conversation he had turned over in his head for days—the whispered plot he had overheard his mother, Queen Margaret, orchestrating. He hadn't confronted her, terrified of what she might do if she knew he was aware of Mary's forced disappearance.

The ceremony proceeded with agonizing grandeur until it was finally time for the vows.

Arthur looked at the beautiful woman standing opposite him, but his eyes were empty. "I take you, Isabella—Isabella Ravencroft, Princess of Eldoria—as my lawfully wedded wife, and now, the Queen of Camelot."

The words spilled from his lips mechanically, absent-minded and rigid, like a script he had memorized only to survive the day.

Isabella smiled, her eyes shining with royal duty and affection as she slipped the gold band onto his finger. "Arthur, Prince of Camelot, with this ring I take you as my lawfully wedded husband and my king. I will stand by you through every trial, and I promise to keep this kingdom alive and safe for our people."

They sealed the vow with a kiss. The crowd erupted into cheers, and the lavish reception began. For hours, Arthur played the part of the blissful groom, smiling when expected and nodding politely through toasts. But his gaze constantly scanned the grand hall.

Then, he saw him. Lord Thomas had just slipped through the heavy oak doors, looking weary and travel-worn.

Arthur didn't hesitate. He excused himself from Isabella's side and rushed across the floor, intercepting the lord in a secluded alcove.

"Thomas..." Arthur hissed.

Thomas bowed quickly, startled. "Your Majesty... how happy I am to see you. Congratulations on the wedding—"

"Cut it, Thomas," Arthur interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Where were you?"

Thomas blinked, trying to maintain his courtly mask. "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?"

"Where. Were. You?" Arthur demanded, stepping into the older man's space.

"I had a very important meeting to attend, Your Majesty..."

"Don't lie to me, Thomas."

"It is the truth, Sire—"

"Thomas!" Arthur's eyes flashed with a rare, furious fire.

Thomas swallowed hard, looking around to ensure no ears were passing by. He sighed, the lie collapsing. "I went to Kingston. I was sent by your mother. She told me to... to speak with you regarding certain security matters."

"I knew it," Arthur breathed, a sick feeling rising in his stomach.

"I am sure her Highness is only trying to protect Camelot, Your—"

"She really got into your brain, didn't she, Thomas?" Arthur growled, gripping the lord's doublet. "What did you do with Mary?"

Thomas looked down, unable to meet the young king's desperate eyes. "I took her to Hayden Barry."

Arthur released his grip, stepping back as if struck. "Hayden Barry? That is a week's journey into the northern border. Why there, Thomas? Why take her so far?"

"Because it is the only place your mother’s guards won't look for a corpse," Thomas whispered urgently, his hand coming up to rest on Arthur’s arm. "You must understand, Sire, the Queen intended to have the girl executed to protect your lineage and the alliance with Eldoria. I did not text her away to punish her—I did it to save her life. If she stays hidden there, the Queen will believe she is dead."

Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs. The realization that his own mother was capable of cold-blooded murder shattered the last remnants of his innocence. He looked back toward the head table, where Queen Margaret sat, sipping wine and smiling graciously at the Eldorian delegates.

"And the child?" Arthur asked, his voice trembling. "Did you know about the child?"

Thomas gave a solemn nod. "I know. And I have arranged for her shelter anonymously. She is safe for now, Arthur. But only if you stay here, and only if you play the part of Isabella's king. If you go after her, you sign Mary's death warrant, and your child's as well."

Arthur stood frozen in the middle of his own wedding celebration. He was a king wearing a crown of gold, yet he had never felt more like a prisoner.