Chapter 32
Lina
Lina had been enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet, tucked in a chair by the fire, when Anne and Anna came roaring into the suite. Anna was wide-eyed and wringing her hands, and Anne looked fit to kill.
“Cranmer is telling the king everything as we speak,” Anne told Lina. “It’s over.”
Anna tried to lay a comforting hand on Anne’s shoulder, but the older queen shook her off. The German woman turned to Lina, distress written on her features. “We don’t know that for sure.”
With a fortifying sigh, Lina stood. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
Anna relayed the events quickly, trying to avoid angry interjections from Anne. Lina knew her friend was worried and frustrated, but she had to shush her on more than one occasion. It wouldn’t help Kat one bit if any of them lost their wits now.
“Here is what we’ll do,” Lina said, once she had heard enough.
She kept her expression blank, making sure no one could see her own fears.
“Anna, you need to get a message to Kat right away to let her know we are moving up our timetable to tomorrow. I will visit her later today to go over the plan one more time. Meanwhile, Anne, I need you to start looking for any spells that could help us in this situation. We may need a distraction, or worse, if Henry makes a play before we do.”
Anna nodded and hurried over to the writing desk in the corner of the room. Lina kept her focus on the witch, who was clenching and unclenching her hands, giving off the distinct impression that she was ready to cut off another finger for some deadly magick trick.
“Anne?” Lina said, stepping toward her friend. “Did you hear me? We can still make this work.”
Anne didn’t get to answer, for at that moment, Brigid rushed into the room, her face pale and strands of fine blond hair coming out of her braids. Lina had forgotten that the young woman had left about an hour ago with a few of her former friends from the palace.
“Francis Dereham has been arrested,” Brigid announced, nearly breathless. “I saw them loading him into a carriage headed for the Tower of London. He’s been accused of having an affair with Queen Katherine.”
Silence reigned in the room for several long seconds.
Then Anne screamed something too sharp and fast for Lina to hear.
The fire in the hearth crackled and then exploded, all the logs going up in flames in seconds in a strange, blue-green fire.
The sudden burst of heat retreated, leaving the room cold and filled with the acrid scent of smoke.
By the time Lina turned back to look at Anne, she had stormed off, leaving a telltale drip of blood in her wake.
Lina followed the red drops to find Anne pacing the length of their shared bedroom, which had its own seating area and two plush, overfilled mattresses that had given a begrudging Lina some of the best nights of rest in her life.
Her glamour withdrawn, the witch had a dark air about her, and Lina could have sworn her friend was working another curse as she walked.
“It’s moving too fast,” Anne said, not bothering to look up. “Not even a pregnancy can save her now.”
“Henry wouldn’t imprison her or have her killed if he thought she was with child,” Lina argued, though she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. “It’s still our best way forward.”
Anne shook her head. “We have to get her out tonight.” Her feet struck the floor with a sharp, unflagging tempo. “I don’t care about the boy—he made his choices, and if he isn’t smart enough to run, so be it. I can’t be responsible for the both of them, and I’m choosing Kat.”
Lina didn’t want to, but she stepped into Anne’s path, stopping her short. “Take a breath,” she counseled. “Just because Henry has had Dereham arrested doesn’t mean Kat is headed for the gallows.”
With an irritated huff, Anne shouldered past her. “After all this time, are you really so na?ve?” she snapped, crossing the room and throwing herself onto the sofa.
The words smarted, but Lina didn’t let it show.
No, Lina hadn’t had the luxury of na?veté for decades now.
Maybe once she had been young and full of hope, back in those early days with Arthur before it all went wrong.
But that hope had long since shriveled up and turned to dust, and all that remained was sober practicality.
“I understand that you are worried,” Lina said, easing into a chair of her own. “But remember Gisa’s prophecy. Three queens shall save the one.”
Anne shot her a look. “With respect to Gisa, I cannot put all my faith in a prophecy when Henry has an executioner waiting in the wings.”
“If we try to move her now while everyone is watching, we’ll be dead before we make it to Kent, let alone France or Spain or wherever we are planning to stash a runaway queen and her paramour. Henry will hunt her to the ends of the earth to appease his pride.”
Anne acknowledged this with a grumble, which Lina took as a sign to continue.
“Tomorrow, she announces her pregnancy. We follow through with the plan. There is no better place for her to be than in Anna’s care—Anna’s reputation is spotless and her position with the king secure, which will help deter Kat’s enemies.
” With a twinge of guilt, Lina added, “But you’re right, we can’t waste time or resources on the boy. If he is able to run, God protect him.”
“You believe Henry will spare her?” Anne asked, a glint of hope shining in her eyes.
“All Henry has ever wanted is an heir,” Lina answered honestly, hoping Anne wouldn’t recognize the evasion. “Edward is the only child he recognizes at the moment, and firstborn sons have a tendency to die young in England.”[*]
Anne nodded. “Like Arthur.”
“Yes.” Lina’s chest gave a small squeeze, like it always did when she thought of him. “He’s taken both Mary and Elizabeth out of the line of succession, and whatever bastard children he has would never have a chance of taking the crown if something were to happen to Edward.”
Lina didn’t like to think of it often, but Henry’s dalliance with one of her ladies-in-waiting—it was a bad habit of Henry’s, sleeping with Lina’s attendants—had resulted in Henry’s first but illegitimate son, Henry Fitzroy.
Mary was only three years old at the time, and Lina had just had a stillborn daughter—her fifth child who didn’t live to see its first year.
The baby Fitzroy had been a slap in the face, a living, healthy son who could have been the heir to the throne if he’d had the right mother.
Henry had been obsessed with the child, leaving Lina alone in her fresh grief.
“I miss Spain,” Anne said suddenly, causing Lina to look up.
Anne was lying with her head on the back of the sofa, staring up at the painted ceiling.
“I miss Madrid, and the warmth, and the hospital. I miss Gisa and Dr. Al-Bashar and Marguerite. I miss waking up every day knowing I was going to do something good, and that the next day I could do the same.”
Lina didn’t know what to say. They had rarely spoken of their time in Spain since they’d left.
She hadn’t been able to find the words to explain how it felt like a part of her had stayed behind, a part she would never recover.
Lina had written Gisa regularly while they had been staying at St. Margaret’s and later at Hever Castle, but weeks had gone by since she’d been able to send or receive a letter.
Sometimes, those years spent abroad seemed like little more than a dream.
Her life had always been a war against Henry, and this was just one more battle.
To think that there had been a reprieve long enough for her to find family, home, and happiness seemed so surreal that it must have all been in her head.
“I—I miss it too,” Lina admitted haltingly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been happy in England. Maybe right after Mary was born, when it was just the two of us, but since then…” She shook her head. “This country has always been a hard place for me.”
“We’ll go back,” Anne promised, leaning forward and taking Lina’s hands. “When this is over, we’ll go back.”
Lina’s answering smile was small and weary. She couldn’t say how, but she knew deep in her soul that she would never see the shores of Spain again.
“What was Henry like?” she asked, changing the subject and slipping her fingers out of Anne’s in one smooth motion.
Anne rolled her eyes. “Condescending. Egotistical. His usual self. I swear to you, Lina, if it hadn’t been for his guards outside the doors, I would have killed him today just to be done with it all. If he so much as tries to lay a finger on Kat—”
“Yes, yes, I know. You’ll turn him into a centipede and crush him beneath the heel of your boot.”
“Witches can’t turn people into centipedes,” Anne lamented, sounding genuinely upset.
“If we could, I would have done it ages ago. But I have been thinking about creating a compliance curse, something that would allow us to control his words and actions. I used to try different versions when we were married, but the man has a surprisingly slippery mind. I’m reluctant to turn him into a total puppet—it would require a great deal of magick and even more concentration to get through all the decisions a king must make in a day. ”
“Yes, I can imagine.” Lina shook her head; leave it to Anne to wonder about such things.
“I need something subtler, something that makes him susceptible to the right suggestions from the right people.” Anne was out of her seat and off toward her room, where she had stored a handful of the spell books she’d brought from Hever Castle. “Maybe I’ll look again.”
The witch paused halfway across the room and raced back to Lina’s chair. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Anne threw her arms around Lina. Surprised, Lina returned the embrace, patting Anne awkwardly on the back.
“Thank you for coming back here with me,” Anne said, her voice full of emotion. “Whatever happens, I’m grateful to have had you by my side.”
She was gone a moment later, the fading warmth in Lina’s arms the only proof that the unexpected, tender moment had happened at all. Lina almost laughed, wishing she could tell her old self of five or ten years ago that one day, Anne Boleyn would feel like a sister to her.
For several minutes, Lina stayed where she was, allowing a week’s worth of exhaustion to settle over her bones.
Since the moment they had arrived at Hampton Court, she’d felt out of her element, as though her years away from the throne had made her a new person entirely.
She missed that Lina, the Lina of St. Margaret’s and the Lina of Santa Cruz.
She had never known how much she’d hated her life as England’s queen until she had come back to relive it through older, wiser eyes.
The intrigue and posturing seemed so juvenile now, the politics and battles so futile.
The world would never live in harmony, but surely everyone could be a bit more patient, a bit more tolerant, and a bit less self-absorbed.
Lina was willing to bet that would cut down on both wars and executions.
And thinking of executions…Kat’s was nigh if indeed Francis Dereham had been apprehended. With a groan, Lina pushed herself to standing and set off to find Katherine Howard to prepare the young woman for the greatest lie of her life.
Skip Notes
* Having an heir and a spare is the smartest choice for any monarch, even if they are afraid they’ve been cuckolded. It was already known at court that Edward was a frail child, which threatened not just the Tudor legacy but the stability of England as a whole.