Chapter 27
Lina
Lina had found hell on earth. This was her punishment for faking her death, to be sent back to the site of her greatest miseries and be tortured by her past.
“You are looking morose, dear Mariana,” Anne said. When Lina glared at her, the witch’s eyes widened. “I take that back. You are looking murderous.”
“I hate it here,” Lina groused, taking a deep drink from her goblet of wine. “I hate everything about it.”
They had arrived at Hampton Court Palace the day before, and all the unpacking and arranging of their suite had offered shelter from the storm.
Even Lina had to admit, begrudgingly, that the palace was beautiful.
Her husband had spent the final years of their marriage overseeing the rebuilding and expansion, and Lina was disheartened to find that the project had come to an admirable conclusion.
Anna’s suite was expansive, tastefully decorated with vibrant wall hangings, plush furniture, and beautiful chandeliers.
The rooms overlooked the inner courtyard from one side and sprawling gardens on the other, and Lina marveled at what a high position Anna retained for herself at court, especially since the woman seemed to despise this place as much as she did.
That evening they were entertaining a group of noblewomen on behalf of the former queen—“a bunch of monsters” as Anna had called them, and Lina was inclined to agree.
She saw the sidelong glances and smirking whispers when the ladies looked at Anna.
She was nothing like the happy-go-lucky woman Lina had known at Hever Castle, bundled in her unattractive gown and making awkward small talk with a heavy German accent, but that shouldn’t have made her the recipient of everyone’s derision.
How had the female sex become so willing to tear one another down?
Had it always been like this, or had Lina been protected by her title, too far above it all to see the pettiness and jealousy?
And the men were worse. The kingdom had been given over to the Cromwells and Norfolks of the world, with every man fighting tooth and nail for a bit more gold or land or favor from the king.
In fact, maybe it could all be chalked up to the influence of Henry’s rule.
He happily embraced his baser instincts: dismissing religion and spending extravagantly, flaunting mistresses and killing wives.
Anyone who didn’t agree with him was a traitor, and they soon found their way to the Tower of London.
What were people to think if this was the behavior modeled for them by their king?
The man was undoing generations of societal progress, and Lina sometimes wondered if he could singlehandedly take England back to the Dark Ages.
It was far easier for humans to devolve than to evolve.
“Breathe,” Anne advised, breaking Lina’s dismal train of thought. “Not one of these women would guess who you are, even if you stood on top of a chair and shouted it at them.”
There were more new faces in the room than those she recognized, but she was glad for Anne’s glamour. The magick itself was unsettling, like having a veil draped over her face, and even after a few days of getting used to her new appearance, Lina still startled every time she looked in the mirror.
Lina snorted. “I’m not worried about being caught. I’m worried about having to spend another moment listening to their inane rambling. Was everything always about men and fashion and jewels and gossip?”
Anne’s answer was a shrug. “I never made friends here.”
“Maybe because you stole my husband,” Lina retorted, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“And maybe if you don’t gather a bit of patience and endure the inane rambling, then we’ll know less about Kat and have to stay here even longer.” Anne arched a brow. “Is that what you want?”
No, it wasn’t. Lina drained her goblet and set it down on the mantel with more force than was necessary. “Fine. But I do hate you for this.”
Anne smiled. “I know.”
They split up, as had been the original plan before Lina had found herself sulking in a corner.
The four of them—Lina, Anne, Anna, and Brigid—were to do their best to get information about Henry’s newest bride and the royal marriage before coming back together at the end of the evening to look for flaws they could exploit.
Despite Marguerite’s suggestion[*] to bring Katherine under the wings of the Sisterhood, Anne remained firm in her desire to get her cousin far, far away from Henry.
Lina felt herself inclined to agree. A rescue was the surest way for Katherine to live to see her twenties.
And so Lina forced herself to remember all the rules of courtly communication.
From somewhere deep inside, she found the pleasant but false smile that sat on her lips with the same slippery feeling of Anne’s glamour.
She summoned her memories of family trees and politics that were appropriate for a woman to discuss.
For the next few hours, Lina mingled with the ladies who had seen one, two, three, or even four queens come and go, hoping to learn what they knew about queen number five.
When their guests were gone, the four women closed the door to Anna’s bedchamber and faced one another with somber expressions.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Anne asked, flopping back onto the four-poster bed.
“It is…worse than what we would have predicted,” Lina replied diplomatically.
In reality, the rumors were much, much worse. Lina had been expecting to hear that the new queen was immature or flighty or self-indulgent—anything you’d expect when you had a teenager wearing a crown.
Instead, several of the ladies Lina spoke with hinted at something far more problematic.
“I heard she has been largely absent since the royal wedding when not on progress with the king,” Brigid said softly. “They say she travels around to her estates with a group of both female and male courtiers.”
“A courtier named Thomas Culpeper?” Anna ventured, looking like she hoped the answer was no.
Brigid nodded, and Lina did too. That was the same name she had heard, paired with remarks that the two of them had become quite close.
No one was so indelicate as to outright suggest an affair, but that was clearly the insinuation.
One or two other men had been mentioned in Lina’s conversations as well, and she had filed their names away for further digging.
But Culpeper was already known to her from her research before returning to London.
He was one of the youngest members of the king’s privy chamber, thought to be smart but not overly ambitious, and by all accounts he was handsome and charming.
What his designs were with Kat, Lina couldn’t guess, but she could see how a young woman could be swept up in a romance with someone like Culpeper, especially given the alternative.
Still on the bed, Anne flung an arm over her eyes and groaned. “Kat, you sweet fool, what have you gotten yourself into?”
The next morning, Lina dressed warmly for a stroll through the winter gardens with Anne.
They had stayed up well into the night going over every conversation from the party in torturous detail, only to keep arriving at the same conclusion: Kat was in serious trouble.
Whether from lack of sleep or worry, Anne was scattered and short-tempered, and Lina had suggested a walk to clear their heads.
Lina didn’t blame her—learning that Kat was carrying on an affair, especially one suspected by the public, made their mission much more difficult.
Kat would be in grave danger if the rumors were to reach Henry, for a queen sleeping with another man was treason, while a king sleeping with another woman was nothing out of the ordinary.
Lina didn’t dwell too long on that double standard, lest she lose what little leash she had on her temper these days.
Ever since they had begun planning their return to court, Lina had felt like her icy heart was melting, giving way to blazing fire.
Perhaps this was how Anne felt—bottomless anger burning just hot enough to cover all her fear, for it was far easier to be angry than to be afraid.
She hoped that an hour spent out in the winter air would return to her the comforting, cold detachment she had come to rely on.
Little was said as the two women wove through the knot gardens, hedges turned brown and streaked with hoarfrost. A large pond stood to one side with thin sheets of ice collecting in the shallows, and eventually the manicured gardens gave way to a park full of old trees swaying leafless in the wind.
Lina pulled her cloak tighter and took a deep draft of the cold air, letting it spread from her lungs to her heart.
The chill made her think more clearly, awakening the part of her mind that thrived on intrigue and politics.
She had been born and bred to solve any problem that came her way, and she’d be damned if she failed now.
“We’ll need to get her out of here immediately,” Lina said. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes, but Anne knew who she meant. “This will be extraction, pure and simple. Henry cannot find out.”
“But how can we do that?” Anne asked. Lina sensed the resignation in her tone. “We can’t kidnap a queen.”
Lina’s mind leaped from idea to idea, then landed.
“If she were to announce a pregnancy, she would be sent somewhere comfortable for her confinement and lying-in. Henry’s wives have lost too many children for him to be anything but careful, and he wouldn’t dare move against her when she was with child, even if he heard about the affair. ”
Anne quickly picked up the thread. “That would give us months to develop a way out. Likely we’ll have to fake her death in childbirth, but Henry would be no stranger to that either.”
Yes, Lina thought as the pieces clicked into place. This could work.
“And who better to host Kat than her predecessor, ‘the king’s sister’?” Lina suggested. “If Anna will allow it, of course. Marguerite could send us physicians to forge reports, and everything could be tied up neatly before Henry even knows what’s happened.”
Anne looked impressed. “If she’s with Anna, we’d be able to separate her from her ladies-in-waiting.” Her face fell slightly. “But what about my uncle?”
Lina frowned too. Norfolk was a complicating factor.
Kat was his ticket to wealth and power—especially if she were about to give the king an heir—and Lina doubted he would let her be spirited away without his approval.
He would be within his rights to demand that she complete her pregnancy on a Howard estate attended by her family members, which would dash their plan to pieces.
“I don’t know,” Lina admitted. “We’ll have to deal with Norfolk when the time comes.”
They rounded a turn in the garden, the cold biting enough that Lina was ready to return to the firelit warmth of Anna’s suite.
When she looked up, she saw a young woman approaching them on the path.
The woman was in her midtwenties, her face pale and stern and framed with copper hair beneath her hat.
Lina stopped dead in her tracks, all the air vanishing from her lungs.
It was Mary.
Anne noticed a second later and tucked Lina’s arm in hers, propelling them forward without breaking her stride. Lina allowed herself to be dragged along, for what else was she to do? Stand there and gape? Break down in tears? Wrap that beautiful child, now grown into a stranger, in a hug?
But oh, how her soul ached from being so near to her daughter.
With every step the pressure in her chest grew until Lina truly feared something inside her would rupture.
It was too much feeling, too much love, suppressed for all these years and now ready to burst out of her.
Her mouth opened and closed, ready to cry out or scream or whisper, she didn’t know.
Anne’s grip on her arm grew tighter, and Lina fought to breathe, to put one foot in front of the other, until she was standing before her daughter.
Woodenly, she followed Anne’s lead and dropped into a curtsy, as was appropriate for greeting the former princess. Mary may have had her birthright stripped away, but she was still the child of the king.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” Anne said, her voice smooth.
Mary nodded. “Ladies.”
Just that one word…Lina hadn’t heard Mary’s voice in seven years, and though it had changed as Mary had grown, Lina still heard the echo of the girl she’d raised.
She couldn’t help herself—she raised her eyes to meet Mary’s, hoping that despite everything, her daughter would somehow see through the magic, that they would embrace and all those stolen years would vanish like a bad dream.
But Mary simply gave Lina a polite smile and stepped around her, continuing on her walk.
The pain nearly brought Lina to her knees, and if Anne had not been there to catch her elbow, Lina would have certainly fallen to the snow-dusted ground.
She bit back a sob, pressing her hand against her mouth until she was certain she wouldn’t make so much as a whimper.
Anne met her gaze, sympathy reflected back in her bewitched face.
Lina had the sudden urge to rip away their glamour with fingers and nails until they were left with shredded vestiges of their true selves.
The feeling passed a moment later, and Lina felt the ice she had been looking for settle back around her heart, building a frozen wall of protection that no one would ever penetrate again.
All her anger, all her fear was smothered by the cold, leaving nothing but the bitter chill of frostbite in her soul.
For this was Lina’s reality. She was no longer a queen or a mother.
She was a ghost, a tool of the Hellebore Sisterhood here for a single purpose.
There was no joyful reunion with Mary in her future, no redemptive arc for her to follow back to her old life.
There was only obscurity and subterfuge and sacrifice and vengeance until there was an end.
And so Lina drew herself tall, pulled her arm from Anne’s grip, and walked back to the palace alone.
Skip Notes
* Marguerite’s explicit direction, but that seems to matter little.