Chapitre 51: Two different realities
Brooke and Francis walked together inside the great royal gardens.
They walked separately and with a certain mutual respect, especially since neither of them had feelings for the other.
Or so they wanted to let the world believe.
Certainly Francis did not feel any romantic affection for the young woman but strangely, from the day they had risked their lives inside the inn, Brooklyn began to perceive the companion much more than as a friend of adventures.
She certainly couldn't admit it and so she just played his own selfless part without mentioning a word.
And now they walked under the tall oaks that covered the surroundings of the royal garden until they reached the forest dedicated to hunting.
-I can't get away from it...I can't rebel or do anything...- Francis admitted lowering his gaze to the green and fresh grass -with every other individual I can be casual but in the presence of my father it is as if fear completely blocked me- the marquis finally admitted turning his dark eyes towards the beautiful mulatto face of the young woman next to him.
-What do you think of it?- he finally asked noticing that she placed her light blue and large eyes on him for too much time.
As soon as she heard those words Brooke immediately looked away from her friend's face acquiring a certain redness on her mulatto face.
The young woman thus placed one of her hands on one of her cheeks taken by embarrassment.
Had Francis perhaps noticed how she felt, could he have understood it?
She imagined it was on the one hand stupid to have lost her head for a young man with other sexual preferences only a week after meeting him but Brooke assumed that inside the monastery where she had stayed for years she had never been able to see a male body and therefore now she was completely attracted to it.
-I'm really sorry- Brooklyn asked forgiveness immediately turning her gaze back to his friend -I didn't pay much attention to what you were saying...-.
From that statement Francis was quite saddened on the other hand he was telling his friend about the problems in his family and she hadn't even paid attention for a moment.
- I was hoping you could give me some advice...- the young man sadly lowered his gaze making her feel bad -but I suppose there is nothing I can do against my father, nothing, my only one goal now is to protect my mother...-.
At those words Brooke was struck and she decided to make the marquis rethink about what he was saying.
-Is this really your only goal?- she asked placing both her hands on her hips -if it really is so, well... I imagined you were a guy with more imagination-.
At those words, amazed by the insult Francis immediately raised his brown eyes to the face of the young woman next to him and slowly spoke again.
-You say this because your mother doesn't love you, do you?-.
At those harsh words Brooke lost all look of joke and sarcasm that she possessed and the smile that before her on her plump lips soon changed into a grimace of amazement.
-What...?- came out of her lips as a cold whisper, as her light blue eyes trembled with anger.
-I mean, you just don't know anything about me and you expect me to feel good, suddenly, at least I have a mother who has never run away from me, not even in times of need...- concluded Francis by now too busy with the situation to be able to give up or change the subject.
Brooke however seemed very hard and firm on her statements, so much so that she crossed both arms under her chest.
-I don't need anyone, neither a mother, nor a father, much less my...- the young woman's words stopped instantly.
The word "brothers" strangely couldn't get out of her mouth, she didn't want to get it out, she wanted to choke it there, inside her throat.
That word reminded her too much and too strongly of the death of her brother Gilbert, this hurt her, it reopened in her a deep and dark chasm.
The tears slowly began to form in the young woman's eyes until they slowly flowed down her cheeks.
-Fuck! - Brooke sweared closing her own hands tightly in two tight fists full of anger -fuck it! I absolutely did not want to burst into tears...- she finally admitted wiping the transparent tears with the palm of her hands.
-It was not my intention to make you sad, really, I'm so sorry...- Francis said slowly rubbing one of his hands hard against a sleeve of his shirt, and then proceeding to sit on the ground.
He sat among the great and elevated woody roots of a large oak tree and seemed to take a majestic and beautiful figure.
Brooklyn from her side was amazed someone would apologise, it was a strange, a peculiar feeling.
She had grown up as the last and only female of four older half brothers and it was so strange for her to hear someone's apology, as her brothers usually tended to justify everything they did.
Francis lowered his gaze until he crossed it with the grass and fresh soil.
-I loved Gilbert much more than a friend...- admitted the marquis -the truth is, Brooke, that I loved him very much-.
At those words she was surprised.
She expected it but on the other hand it was strange for her to finally be able to meet the young man that her brother often mentioned in his letters.
She looked into his dark eyes, they were bright and sad.
Brooke smiled and took a seat next to him, sitting on one of the woody roots.
She leaned her back against the trunk of the big tree and turned her gaze to the sky, it was blue, it was clear, surrounded by verdant foliage.
She was in a certain sense jealous of Francis at first but at this moment she no longer had any idea what she felt for him.
-I think my brother loved you too, romantically, from the beginning...- Brooke admitted closing both her light blue eyes and raising her mulatto face towards the sky -in every letter Gilbert always alluded to you Francis, and in my heart I began to understand it was more of a simple friendship-.
At those words, the marquis' gaze fell on the young woman, on her face, on her jealous look but at the same time her understanding character.
Was it then possible that Gilbert had loved him since the beginning? Had they lived for years never confessing their feelings?
Francis with the palms of his hands wiped the tears from his freckled cheeks and tried to regain his calm.
He felt somehow better, safer, as if Gilbert or at least his soul was still there with him.
-Now it's too late...- Francis cried looking up at the cold and cloudless blue sky -Gilbert has always done everything for me and I haven't even been able to save his life...- he said slowly lifting the sleeve of his own white shirt and slowly feeling the thick bandages that covered his forearm.
-And most likely I won't even be able to save mine, one day my wounds will start to get infected- the eyes of the man as they spoke seemed filled with anger and fear -my father will have to pay for all this one day ...-.
At those words Brooklyn opened her eyes again and began to think deeply and intensely, as an innate anger grew inside her.
-Your father is a noble Francis- she remembered him speaking angrily -but at the same time your father steals freedom and rights from my people, he enslaves them and I cannot allow this- concluded her getting up with an agile leap from the enormous and hard roots and thus standing there in a heroic almost majestic pose.
-I am not like my father...- Francis said looking away from sadness and embarrassment -I am part of him, he generated me but I cannot pay for his sins...-.
At those words Brooke immediately understood how much the young man feared the repercussions that could fall on his shoulders.
-I absolutely do not want to punish you for actions performed by your father but if you think well, your father has been foreign minister of economy for years and part of the royal commission...-.
- So what?- the young man's gaze immediately passed to the young woman beside him, curious as his wavy brown hair moved slowly in the wind.
-So, if it is seriously a war that we want to avoid, it would be convenient if the foreign minister of economy could no longer give advice to the princess- Brooke concluded her own reflection finally jumping off the large and woody roots -doesn't it seem like a working plan?-.
The girl's light blue eyes met the young man's brown ones.
Brooke looked at Francis's eyes, they were of a beautiful, dark colour, which possessed next to the pupil, shades of auburn yellow, a colour almost similar to that of the corn.
-I guess it's a plan that may actually work...- the young man admitted unsurely rubbing his fingers on his chin -but what are we going to do? We'll have to wait for the right moment to get rid of him...-.
-We won't need too much time, we just have to wait until he is alone without attendants or errands- Brooke thought back to her plan imagining how to frame the man.
-Some nights...- Francis admitted leaving the roots of the tree -during certain nights my father likes to surround himself with girls under the age of seventeen...I know, it is horrible...- the young man admitted bringing his face closer to that of the friend and making her acquire a certain redness on her face.
-During those nights my father orders attendants and all kinds of personal servants to leave the room's surroundings so that he can privately do what he wants to do to those poor servants-Francis whispered in Brooke's ear -this could be one of the moments most appropriate to kill...-.
At those words the young woman reflected on it on the other hand it was true that without any security it would have been more than simple to end the despicable and miserable life of that cruel, horrible man.
Brooklyn, however did not want to shed any more innocent blood and so she tried in every way to find a solution.
-We should in every way be kind to his poor young lovers, we have to spare their life...- she added crossing both her hands on her chest with decision.
Francis nodded slowly to that statement, agreeing.
-I have great respect for courtesans, my mother on the other hand was one of my father's lovers and she was equally young, seventeen, when she became pregnant with me- Francis admitted seeming completely aware of what had happened in the past, of how he was conceived.
-They do not do it, certainly not with pleasure but because they are forced to, they are only young victims, there will be no need to kill them, they will have such fear and gratitude that I do not think they will confess what happened to anyone-.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone