https://Voice.club - “There, there, little one. Poor thing. Oh my sweet baby, wee orphan …” I know that voice, that slightly off-key singing.
“Bridget?”
“Bless you child, you remember me!”
Of course I remember her. All my childhood memories revolve around her. Rocking me, telling me stories, singing me to sleep, wiping away my tears. The first word I ever spoke was her name.
“They sent you away!”
“They did, love. But now I’m back again, by royal decree.”
I climb into her lap and she holds me close like when I was a baby. I’m five now, and much too big for coddling, Father would say. But Father’s gone and Mother too. I start to tremble, remembering the terror of these past weeks. I burst into tears. Bridget doesn’t scold me, as Mother always did, or give me that angry scowl, like Father. She just rocks back and forth with me in her arms, and the grim, grey walls of the castle seem to soften. The nursery becomes cozy again, a place of comfort and warmth.
“I do so love you,” she whispers.
No one has said those words to me since the wonderful days when Bridget was my wet nurse and nanny. The servants bow and curtsy when I walk by, especially now, and they obey my every command, but they don’t smooth down my unruly hair or kiss my forehead. No one ever, ever touches me.
A knock comes on the door of our little sanctuary.
“Your Highness, time for your daily visit to the library.”
“No, thank you. I won’t be going today.” I try to make my voice deep and manly. After all, I am the King now, even though a Regent will do all the hard stuff until I get older.
Father loved his library. The poison section. The medical books. The illustrations of exactly where the needle should be pushed, into the base of the skull. Now that my parents are both gone, I don’t need to go back there.
“You’re my mother now,” I tell Bridget, gazing at her in adoration, content at last.