Reign: The Haunting Read Online Free

all in the past, he couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty.
    â€œYou look incredible,” Francis said in a soft voice, hardly daring to touch her. “Your gown is a masterpiece. Your dressmakers have surpassed themselves.”
    â€œThank you,” she replied automatically, her shoulders stiff and high. Although Mary smiled, Bash could see the sentiment did not make it to her eyes.
    â€œThe dress of course is nothing without the woman inside it,” he said quickly, glancing between Mary and his brother. “I fear Kenna will combust when she sees it. She spent an age choosing her gown for this evening.”
    â€œThen I must find her at once,” Mary replied, grateful for the easy exit. “We can talk dresses while you men keep your visiting cousin company.”
    Francis knew that Mary was no more likely to spend an evening at court discussing fashion choices than she was to go outside and milk a goat for their morning drink but it was quite evident that she was unhappy with him.
    â€œWhatever have you done, brother?” Bash said, clapping him on the back as if he sensed the exact same problem. “Find a way to undo it quickly. I haven’t felt a frost like that since the depths of winter.”
    With an unhappy sigh, Francis nodded and set off across the hall. He couldn’t bear to have Mary mad at him for another moment.
    â€œAh, here is my handsome son.”
    Before he could take another step, he saw his mother in front of him.
    â€œTell me, Francis,” she said, guiding him away from where Mary and Kenna stood and over toward his throne. “How are you feeling? You look so tired.”
    â€œI’m fine, Mother,” he replied, his temper growing shorter with every second. “Busy, that’s all.”
    â€œSomething is weighing on your mind. Marital woes perhaps,” Catherine pressed. “Is it something a mother could help with? Or an executioner?”
    â€œHow lucky I am that I have both of those in one person,” he snapped. Catherine took her hand off her son’s arm, eyes wide with surprise. “I’m here to greet your cousin,” Francis continued. “Where is he?”
    â€œOn his way,” Catherine said, focusing her gaze on Francis. There were deep, dark shadows beneath his eyes, and his hair and skin lacked their usual luster. When Francis was a boy, Catherine had doted on him as though he were a doll and it delighted her that he had never lost his golden curls and bright blue eyes. But tonight he looked aged and broken. Mary was right, something was wrong.
    â€œTell me, Francis.” She spoke in hushed tones, turning away from the happy dancing crowds that surrounded them. “What is the matter? A mother knows when something troubles her son.”
    Francis paused. If anyone would understand, it was his mother. She had plotted with Mary to kill his father when his madness took hold. She would tell him he had done the right thing, she would help, perhaps her private doctor had something to help him rid himself of the dreams, to help him sleep. Nostradamus would have known what to do. If only she knew where he was.
    â€œFrancis.” She gripped his hand, concern in the gray eyes that mirrored his own. “Tell me.”
    â€œIt was Lola’s nursemaid.” The moment he opened his mouth, the words began to tumble out uncontrollably. “She spoke in Father’s voice. And then the dreams, it’s every time I close my eyes. I can’t stop it, I can’t stop him.”
    â€œThe nursemaid?” Catherine gripped his wrists, trying to calm him down. “Tell me about the nursemaid.”
    â€œShe’s gone now,” he said, the relief of letting it out almost overwhelming him. For a moment he imagined how he would feel if he could tell his mother what had really happened that day on the jousting field. “I had her sent away.”
    Looking up into his mother’s face,