Chapter forty-seven
His eyes cringed when the sun rays of dawn suddenly bathed his face. After struggling with the light for a while, he opened his eyes to find Monica pulling the draperies aside.
She was already fully dressed, compared to his naked body still under the covers.
"Good morning," the lady said simply with her attention  still outside through the window. Afterwards, she went on tugging at  the curtains without a word.
"Someone's desperate to go back to Scotland," Philip forced a sad smile, pushing the covers from over his body while he stretched in a yawn.
At his words, the lass smiled and finally turned to him, "You can say that."
The Duke watched her for a while. Compared to the emotions they both shared the previous night, she seemed…cold. However, he just pressed his lips together and said nothing.
But Monica still went on, "Earl and the others are already with His Majesty. Get ready and meet us downstairs."
Philip still had his eyes on her while she walked away immediately. He raised his hands to his face and rubbed away every trace of sleep, and probably so he could reason better. Something was definitely going through her mind. But first things first.
***
With her hands behind her back, Monica stalked slowly through the dark hallway, her boots clicking upon the marbles.
She tried not to think of anything at all, glancing at the portraits on both walls. The entire palace was gleefully empty, proving that Prince Stephen had fulfilled his own part of the deal.
She turned left and found the King's office some meters down. Now she was forced to think of something with Louis's face in full view. Kill that man!
But no! She sighed and closed her eyes, pushing all sadistic thoughts to the back of her mind.
When she opened her eyes again, she was at the doorway, exchanging glances with one of those behind her father's death.
Jason turned to look at her, in her usual tight silk breeches tucked into boots. Several daggers were fixed into belts around her hips and chest.
Her red hair was no more dancing in curls, but rather, they were straight strands falling to her back and the sides of her face. Her striking green eyes looked angry for some reason as they glared at the King.
Generally, she looked more solemn than the Earl had ever seen her.
Next, he saw her pull one of those daggers out and stride forward. Instantly, he came in her way and looked down into her eyes. "Control Monica," he whispered, "control!"
She looked back at him, almost about to turn him into the prey.
At the thought, she shook her head out of the angry trance and took a few steps back, nodding in obedience later on.
The King's pose was as submissive as ever before them all, especially after the lady had stepped in.
His guards were also nowhere to be found at the moment. Stammering, his words came as a mutter, "What do you all want?"
As for today, the lads knew they were simply her henchmen. Monica put her dagger back in place and walked up to his table, knowing she was supposed to do all the talking today. It was her home!
As she bent and braced her hands upon his table, the King shivered slightly and looked into her eyes, green and daring. The lady's smirk was enough to suck the life out of him. However, he still managed a few words to her, "I am so sor…"
Monica banged the table with her fist, "Oh please! If I wanted to kill you for my father's death, you'd be dead by now!"
He swallowed fearfully, wondering secretly why else she had planned such a torture, "What else do you want then?"
He almost screamed in frustration, getting a smile out of Monica.
She leaned in closer in the most threatening pose she could muster. She wouldn't deny she took such a delight in seeing this man shiver before her, "In simple words, I want Kilmarnock back!"
It surprised the young Monarchs how the King reacted to that. Monica did not expect him to succumb to her request immediately, but she hadn't expected this either.
He rose to his feet and wiped all traces of fear from his face features, taking a new aura of anger and disbelief. "You must be out of your mind…" he stopped halfway when Monica took a pistol from her hip and pointed its barrel to his face.
"Yes I am out of my mind to want what's mine," she barked, "You've stripped hundreds of thousands off shelter and satisfaction for over fifteen years just to fill up your already luxurious pockets."
The man seemed to frown in confusion. When he posed to answer her, there were graced with the Duke's presence.
Monica felt a hand form a soft grip around the gun in hers,  instantly making her know who it was.
Ever so gently, Philip pulled the weapon from the lass and took charge, getting a sigh of relief from the King.
But the Scottish turned away to hide the liquid that had slowly begun to blur her vision, taking two steps back afterwards.
The Duke slipped an unrolled scroll unto the table towards the King, "The seal of ownership. Having signed my disclaimer over the property, it is left for you to sign yours. Do so Your Majesty and we will be on our way." The plea in his tone was evident, as he cast the man a lidded stare.
King Louis looked round his office at the six lads and the lass, most especially his own two sons.
"You dare stand there and watch them do this to your father!"
Raymond closed his eyes while a smile played upon his lips. However, he left his unsaid words for Timothy, "She'd have killed you the moment she stepped in father if not for our presence. Consider it a point on our side."
The King's breathing was now slightly above normal, with his glare moving from one son to the other. It didn't seem to disturb either Prince though.
Finally, he glanced away from them and back to the paper, "I won't return that darn duchy. Kill me if you must!"
Monica sighed. She'd feared he'd say that eventually, and luckily, she had just the solution.
"That won't be a problem," she smiled at him, "I planned for this."
In medieval England, there were some things worth even more than life, King or slave. As Louis watched her in confusion and hidden fear, he wondered what this hussy was up to now.
Monica Maitland walked walked round the big office aimlessly, drawing out her sword just as she reached what she was searching for. Her friends also had their eyes on her, knowing fully well she was the definition of trouble.
The King's heartbeat seemed to have tripled when the lady stopped to look at a painting on the wall. It was an array of colors scattered beautifully to form something that looked like a man, posed majestic and proud;  a portrait of the first King of England.
To Monica, it was historical balderdash, but to any other King after this man, it was something to die for.
Peter was the first to understand what she planned to do…and he gasped, painfully learning this lady was more insane than he thought. But he shrugged later on, what was his concern anyway.
"This painting lacks just the spice," Monica said with a grin, "I'm suddenly curios to see King Athelstan with a nose piercing."