FOUR YEARS LATER

  HAMPTON COURT PALACE

  1536

  ISABELLA

  THE NEWS COMES AS I SIT WITH MY QUEEN.

  She is anxious. I can see it in the way she picks at her nightgown of beautiful black velvet, her signature initial necklace glittering around her neck. Anne is nervous, and I understand why. The rumors have reached us, and Anne spent the day pacing, worrying over what comes tomorrow. According to one of the maids in the castle who happens to be in my confidence, the king is going to arrest Anne for false charges tomorrow.

  "It is because I have not given him a son," she breathes out. Anne's hand slips away from my own as she rises abruptly, and I fold my empty hand in my lap. She begins pacing once more, as though trying to distract from the way her voice shakes ever so slightly. "I know it is, Isabella. He wishes for a son and I have given him only a daughter and lost his two other children."

  "Surely he will not go through with these charges," I protest. "Anne, please. His Majesty may be angry, but perhaps he only means to divorce you."

  The other alternative is absolutely unthinkable to me. To see my beloved Anne at the executioner's block is too much to bear. My queen means everything to me, and it is why I acted immediately upon being told about His Majesty's intentions. He did merely divorce Princess Katharine, though she is living in exile from court alone in Kimbolton Castle. Even Anne was taken aback by the king's insistence on her confinement, despite it benefiting Anne.

  "Of course he means to have me executed," she snaps, turning on me. Anne has a quick temper, but it fades just as quickly. Over the four years I have known her, I have learned to ignore her outbursts of anger as merely her expressing her emotions. "I refused a divorce, and now he means to get rid of me in a more permanent way."

  This was news to me. "You refused a divorce?"

  "If I agreed, he would have declared my Lizzy a bastard. She must inherit the throne," Anne explains, and her pacing slows. "I love her more than anything, Isabella. I want to give her the world, and to do that, I must remain queen, even if it costs me my life."

  "Don't you dare talk like that!" My voice is sudden, sharp, and it surprises me even me. I never raise my voice, and certainly not to my mistress, even if I know Anne would often allow it. "If you die, what am I to do? Without you?"

  "You could serve his next queen," she offers. Her dark eyes seem to see into my soul, and it angers me. She knows me so well, and yet she thinks I am concerned over my employment after her death. "You have your connections. You could do well for yourself."

  "That is not what I mean, and you know it, Anne." I rise from my spot on the edge of her bed, silver skirts rustling around me. How does she not see the heartbreak in my eyes at the thought of her death? "I couldn't care less as for where or how I am employed afterward. I meant my heart, Anne. How should I survive my heart being ripped out?"

  Anne surveys me with a look that says she understood what I meant the first time. I have loved before, certainly, but I do not think I've ever loved anyone as deeply or as fiercely as I love her. Anne, with her clever wit and her silver tongue, has stolen my heart. I like to think I have stolen hers, too, but anything between us would risk her life. And right now, she has enough risk to it.

  "You would do fine," she utters again, turning away. "I knew the risk when I became his queen, I just didn't think he would kill me!"

  "So escape!"

  "And put Lizzy in further danger? If I did so, he would just take his anger out on her! On my family! Anyone who is associated with me, and that includes you."

  I go to answer, but a knock sounds on the door. I exchange a surprised glance with Anne. "Who could be coming by so late?"

  Anne frowns at the door. "I do not know. Answer it."

  It is a messenger bearing a note. "For Her Highness Queen Anne," he informs me, and I thank him, taking the parchment into my hand. I shut the door, and offer it to her.

  I do not need to read it.

  Anne's eyes slowly slide down the parchment, rise to the top, and then slide down once more. I fold my hands against my silver skirts, feeling the rough beading scratch my skin. I cannot tell if she will be angry with me, or if she will be grateful. I have done this for her, and if I am punished, I will accept it knowing I saved her life. I will never regret that, even if I committed treason to save her.

  She is silent, and all I hear is her soft breathing. The parchment is crumpled in her fist, and by the time she looks up at me again, I see utter shock in her eyes. She stares at me, chest heaving as she drags in deep breaths. "Bella."

  "Yes?"

  "I don't suppose you would answer truthfully if I asked where you were earlier this evening?" Her voice is tight, almost pained, and I feel my heart sink. I swallow.

  "Unfortunately not, Your Highness." The lesser people that know for sure, the safer I am. At least my voice is steadier than I thought it would be.

  "Then I shan't ask." She pauses. "And I expect you not to answer anyone else who may ask it."

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  "Of course."

  "Apparently, the king has been experiencing some symptoms for the last few days. Coughing, sneezing, and it only became worse." Her dark eyes study me. Sometimes, I hate that I think she can read my mind. It is an unsettling feeling, but it is also part of her charm that draws so many people. "He has died from this illness. Whatever it may be."

  Anne's eyes slide away from mine as she turns to the fire burning nearby. A few paces forward, and she is throwing the parchment into the hungry flames. Silence makes the room feel less than comfortable, but I know by her lack of immediate reaction that I am safe. At least, for now. If she were truly angry, she would have called the guards already.

  "My condolences," I respond simply. Of course, I have no ounce of sympathy for the monster who wore England's crown, and I know Anne does not either. I believe that in the beginning, she tried to love him, but he proved to be unlovable. Not, of course, that I could ever repeat such things aloud. Even Anne would smack me for such treasonous thoughts, though mostly out of fear that someone would overhear. She would not disagree.

  Anne watches the logs in the fire, leaning back onto her desk. I notice her nightgown is shifting, and I come closer. In this moment, a rare breath of privacy for us both, I see the real Anne. As with everyone at court, she has a side she presents to everyone, and a side that only few people see. I am one of the few lucky enough to see her real side, and I must cherish it, for I can never be publicly affectionate with her. Not the way I long to.

  It is a little different for her. As queen, she can certainly favor me, and she does to the best of her extent. For all her quick tempers and sharp words, Anne is kind to me. Not many would understand how. I do not mean the dresses and jewels I receive, nor the lands she persuaded the king to gift me. I mean the small things - the way I stand closer to her than the rest of her ladies. The way she always finds me in a room to offer me a smile. Her insistence on always being my partner once at a group dance at a ball, and the way I always receive the nicest gifts during holidays.

  My hand makes contact with the soft cloth as I adjust her nightgown, bringing it back up to cover the rest of her shoulder. My hand remains on her shoulder, and after a moment, she squeezes my palm gently. Her eyes remain on the fire. "What am I to do, Bella?" She finally whispers out after a few minutes. "He is dead. People will come for me. No, they will come for Elizabeth. She is to inherit his mess, Isabella."

  "Is she?" I push back, my tone gentle with her. "She may be queen now, but she is only three. You are her regent. Make England better for her, Anne. Make it prosperous, so that when she comes to the throne in her own right, they will call her the queen of England's golden age."

  Her lips meet the back of my hand. They linger. Anne is not one for verbal praise, but her gestures mean everything. There is a world of intentions in the kiss, and my heart breaks for her. She is so worried. I could not imagine, nor would I want to, the stress that the weight of her new position brings. But I also know she is best suited to handle the duties of kingship.

  "But her safety," she adds, her tone barely audible. "My poor child. She is in far more danger now than she was before."

  Anne has a point there. Elizabeth was Henry's sole heir, and now at three years old, is England's rightful and lawful queen. However, she's far too young to rule. This leaves Anne as Elizabeth's regent, until Elizabeth turns twenty-one or dies and the throne goes to Mary.

  These are all problems to consider. I have no doubt she, and her mother Katharine of Aragon, will challenge Anne's regency. The law—and Henry's will—may be on our side, but they will not concede their claim to the throne without a fight. I by no means have any ill will towards them, but my loyalties lie with Anne and Elizabeth now. And I certainly won't let any threat to my mistress' rule stand.

  "My darling Anne," I murmur out, and she finally turns those dark eyes towards me. Contrary to the court's beliefs, Anne is quite beautiful. Dark hair and dark eyes are considered unattractive, and perhaps it is because I bear similar features, but I cannot see why. Anne is stunning to me. I strive to let her know this often. "This is good news."

  To my surprise, her eyes are filled with tears. Is she truly crying over the husband who wanted to kill her? I must remember that I have never had a husband, and therefore the loss of a spouse is not a sort of pain I could understand.

  Her fingers gently brush my cheek. Anne's gaze is soft, quiet, unlike most of the time. This is one of those looks she reserves only for me. I consider myself honored when she looks at me so. "He is dead. . ."

  I sigh. She is feeling a myriad of things, not least of which is most likely betrayal. "Elizabeth needs her mother, and now she has you for a while yet."

  "And you?" She counters ever so softly. "What about you, Bella?"

  I gaze at her for a long few moments, my heart aching once more. Unbidden images reenter my mind, of her head being cut off, of her blood spilling across the scaffolding, of the crowds praying for their queen after she is already gone.

  "I need you."

  With those three little words, Anne's lips are against mine. I expected a softer kiss, but her mouth is demanding against mine, her hands possessive and quick over my skin. The warmth of the fire reaches my skin as I reciprocate, hand coming up to cup her cheek. I love Anne with all my heart, and it's moments like these where I know without a doubt that my love is returned. That Anne would do anything for me. It's moments like these that I can almost believe that God wanted Anne and me to love each other the way a man and woman are supposed to love. "I love you."

  "And I love you, my queen."

  I rest my forehead against hers for a moment, one hand pressed to my stomach as I regain my breath. "Do you wish to stay in here?"

  She has to think for a moment, closing her eyes. If we stay in her chambers, people will wonder why the queen didn't come to the king's bedside. If we do venture out, we must act grieved, and I for one feel anything but. Anne, however, has always been an excellent actress. That is yet another thing to love about her.

  "No. Not visiting Henry will cast suspicion on me."

  Anne pulls away from me, smoothing her nightgown down and appearing to think. It is an unspoken rule that we will both act sad. "Make yourself presentable."

  I turn to the mirror on her bedside table and check my face. I touch up my smeared lipstick, and all I can do is hope people accept my flushed face as being from stress and shock over the king's death.

  "Did he suffer?"

  That is unexpected. I did not expect her to ask that so soon, and I place her handheld mirror down. I turn back to my queen, finding her staring at me expectantly. The mixture I used, which has been my signature poison for years, must be given in small doses if it's to look natural. I didn't have time to make it look natural—but I did enjoy seeing Henry's suffering after he downed his goblet of wine.

  Because the poison is meant to work in small doses, and slowly, I had to improvise. His goblet barely had a touch of wine, which he didn't notice as he was already drunk, and was filled with mostly poison. He pissed himself and, among other quite nasty symptoms, began throwing up blood soon afterward. It was sickeningly satisfying to watch him beg for my help.

  'Your life for hers.'

  I had wanted him to know exactly why I was killing him.

  I give Anne a smile. "For several minutes."

  She turns away, but I catch a glimpse of her smirk. I move behind her, skirts rustling around me as I do so, and I stop right at her shoulder.

  "Long live Queen Anne," I murmur.