History's Great Queens 2-Book Bundle: The Last Queen and The Confessions of Catherine de Medici Read Online Free PDF Page A

task.”
    I should have been scared; I should have realized I had lost this battle. Instead, in a steely voice I hardly recognized I said, “I never asked for it.”
    She stood with an angry exhalation and paced to the window. The seconds passed like years. When she finally spoke, her voice cut through me. “You will do as you are told. Flanders is a respectable kingdom, which Philip has ruled since childhood. His lineage is impeccable, and his court renowned for its culture. I assure you, you’ll find yourself right at home.”
    Tears burned behind my eyes. I saw my childhood vanishing before me like an illusion, my carefree afternoon in the gardens the last I’d ever enjoy again. I didn’t care about Philip’s reputation or his court. Nothing he had could ever equal the beauty of Spain.
    A chasm opened inside me. “Mamá, please. Must I do this?”
    She turned about. “The Cortes has given its consent, and the betrothal documents are signed. I cannot disregard the welfare of Castile because you wish it so.”
    The room keeled about me. I barely heard her as she returned to her desk. “You’ll not go to Flanders alone. Doña Ana shall go with you as your head matron, and you’ll have a household to attend you. And Philip will of course see to your well-being, as a good husband should. You will see these fears of yours are but the nerves of a new bride. We’ve all felt them in our time.”
    My entourage had been selected; she’d even determined how my husband would treat me. In that moment, I saw Boabdil as he kneeled in the charred earth before her.
    I bit back a hot surge of tears. I would not grovel. “When?” I asked. “When must I go?”
    “Not for a year at least, though we’ve much to do.” Her tone turned brisk. “I know how advanced you are in your studies, yet seeing as you’ve little occasion to practice your French, I will find an experienced tutor to assist you. You must also continue to perfect your music and dance. It seems the Flemish value such skills.”
    There it was: my future laid out with the precision she’d shown in her battle against the Moors. I was but another soldier in her army, another cannon in her arsenal.
    In that moment I hated her.
    She inked her quill, drew her stack of papers close. “Now I’ve work to attend to. Tomorrow, after your lessons, we’ll compose your reply to Philip. Give me a kiss and go say your prayers.”
    Tomorrow seemed a lifetime away. I could not feel my legs yet somehow I managed to graze her cheek with my lips, curtsy, and walk to the door. When I reached it, I paused with my hand on the latch. I thought she would relent, call me back, because she couldn’t let me leave like this.
    But she was already bent over her dispatches.
    I walked out, past the women into the passageway, the letter gripped in my fingers. Soraya rose from her crouch with a questioning look. I couldn’t return to my chambers. My sisters would be awake and waiting. They’d not let me alone until they pried the news from me and then—oh God, then I’d start bawling like a child, like an idiot, like Isabella in her endless grief! I couldn’t face them. Not yet. I needed time alone, somewhere private to vent my rage and sorrow.
    I yanked up my skirts and began to run, narrowly avoiding startled sentries and slave girls, who dropped into hasty curtsies, spilling baskets of sun-dried linens. I fled as if pursued, running and running until I burst, breathless, into an open courtyard, Soraya close behind.
    The scent of jasmine washed over me. Above, a sickle moon hung suspended in a dazzling spangled night. I heard water spill from the stone lions ringing the fountain; my feet soaked in the waterways as I slowly turned about to stare at the Alhambra’s curving arches, the intricate pediments and sculpted marble.
    The silence was a presence. Everything had changed. This world I loved so much, it would not mourn me. It would not even feel my absence. It would continue on,