“You tricked me into marrying you,” he accuses. “You used dark magic to enchant me and then took poison to keep me from giving you children.”
This would be the ideal moment to mention that we’ve never actually had sex, but unfortunately, I have to keep the words bolted down. Instead, I go with “Is that what you believe?”
His eyes flash brighter. He’s looking for a fight. “It is what I know to be true.Youpursuedme! Every look you gave, every word you spoke, told me that you loved me.”
In true narcissist fashion, he’s making himself the victim. Placing the blame solely with me rather than taking responsibility for his own actions. He literally has had me locked in a room for over a week, and he wants me to believe that he’s the one being treated unfairly.
“And what is love to you?” I ask, slowly stepping toward him.
His eyebrows go up in surprise at my approach. “Do not speak to me as if you are my equal. You are being held prisoner for your deceitfulness and betrayal. And should I so choose, you could rot in the tower for the rest of your life. If I am merciful, I will grant you a quick death.”
He doesn’t like my questions. He wants me to remember who’s in control. Message received.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I only ask you questions because I’m so relieved and overjoyed to see you. These past days without you have been the most painful of my life.”
His eyes soften a degree then. He’s happy that I’m suffering.
When dealing with a narcissist, confronting them head-on will only make matters worse. I have to feed his ego. I need to convince him to be the savior that he believes himself to be. And I need to do it now.
Slipping into damsel-in-distress mode, I inhale a quivering breath. “Your Majesty, husband, you are more important to me than anything in this world. I’m sorry that I disappointed you. I’m sorry that you are unhappy and that I’m the cause of it. And I’m the so sorry that I’m not the wife you rightfully deserve.”
He pauses, my honey-sweet repentant tone once again capturing his attention. “I know well why you are undeserving of me. But I would hear it from your own lips.”
“Because,” I tell him, “I cannot give you a son.”
Henry turns to face me, his eyes totally transfixed. “How do you know that?”
I go over the script we came up with in my privy council meeting. “The day you left on your travels, I prayed and prayed that we conceived on our wedding night. But when my monthlies began a few days later, I knew that we didn’t. And that’s how I know that God couldn’t have blessed our union. He didn’t bless it because I’m not worthy of you. All the blame lies with me. And I know that I can’t remain married to you because it, despite the fact that my heart yearns for you with every single beat.”
Flattery. Validation. Remorse. Acquiescence.
“I’m consumed with shame for the pain I caused you. All I ever wanted was to prove my love for you, but I know that I hurt you in unimaginable ways.”
Henry sits down in one of the chairs, eating up each of my words like delicious morsels.
“Youhavehurt me, Catherine. You have hurt me more than you could ever comprehend.”
It’s time to go all in now, and I kneel down by the side of Henry’s chair. “I know that,” I tell him. “You were and are everything a husband should be. It was me who failed. Only me.”
He hunches over the table, bringing himself close to me and trying to read my gaze. If he could see what was really in there, he would read the words:fuck you. He sits back with a sigh.
“My astrologer told me as much.”
Shock thunders through me as I rock back on my heels. “What?”
“My astrologer, Matthias, came to see me a week ago, before he fled the palace. It was early morning, still dark. He told me that he was studying the star charts from the day you were born, and he had a prophecy that you would bear me no heirs. He said a thick mist covered your womb, whatever that means.”
I stare wide-eyed at Henry. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.
“A mist?” I ask, making sure I heard the king correctly.
Henry only nods. “He claimed it was through no fault of your own and that God had grander plans for me. He believed that if I spared you, an army of sons would follow with my next wife.”
Matthias, you beautiful bastard. He didn’t abandon me. At least, not without corroborating my story first, which I absolutely never told him. I must have the mist to thank for that.
The king turns to me then, gauging my reaction before he goes on. “I have also been told by many that everyone at court knows of Mistress Marshall’s love of me. And that is what led to her coming forward against you.”
Holy shit. Our story as traction. The king has heard it.
