Grace FitzRoy and Cecily Neville were two sides of one deal. On Loveday in the year 1458, when York and Lancaster came together ceremonially to reconcile their two warring factions, the Duke of York and King of England struck a deal. A daughter for...
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CALM BEFORE THE STORM
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September, 1459
Watching George squirm whenever he was in her presence made Grace laugh on the inside. It was perhaps the most amusing thing she had ever seen, and it brought her great satisfaction and the smallest sense of vengeance. Over the past three months, he had tried to apologize many times, but Grace had never truly given him the chance. She didn't know if she even wanted him to apologize, really. If he did, it would no doubt be only a matter of time before he found a way to insult her again. A way to hurt her again.
Admitting to the rest of George's family what he said to her did not seem like an option, and she knew that he himself would never confess his wrongdoings, and so the two of them were locked in this awkward dance of apologetic looks and annoyed grimaces. Everyone knew that something was amiss, but only few had ever actually asked. None had gotten an answer.
"Warwick and Salisbury are almost here," Edmund told her as he walked over to where she was walking through the gardens. The two earls had gone off to collect their armies, and with each day that passed Grace could feel the conflict brewing in the land. Each time she woke in the morning, she half expected to look out of her window and see red banners of Lancaster flying in the distance.
She despised being stuck in the crossfire, but at the same time she supposed it was a good thing that she was here and that Lord Warwick's daughter was with the Lancastrians. The presence of the two of them in the enemy's clutches kept the war to a minimum of actual violence. So far, she told herself, aware of the skirmishes that had already taken place. Distantly, she wondered if Henry Percy had taken these small battles as an excuse to finally unleash himself on the girl in his care. If that was true, Grace could only pray for the girl.
Grace nodded her head at Edmund, drawling her shawl closer around her shoulders as a chilly wind blew over the castle grounds. There was nothing that she could say. Good? Things weren't good. Not in the slightest. No war could ever be good. Edmund let out a small sigh.
"You still haven't told me what happened between you and my brother." He tried for what felt like the thousandth time that month. Grace gave him a quick look. She wished he would just stop trying to figure out what had happened. Everyone else had. But she supposed it was in Edmund's nature to try and understand. To try and help.
"Which one?" she asked, the humor in her tone dull and lifeless. Edmund did not seem amused by her feigned obliviousness. Grace pursed her lips. "As I've told you before, nothing happened." Edmund raised a brow at her, a telling enough show of his disbelief.
