A Note from the Author
Marguerite d’Angoulême
It should come as no surprise that our story does not end there. For Kat, Anna, and Brigid, there was a fresh start. But for Anne and Lina, there was still bad blood binding them to England and the man who sat upon its throne.
If I could have killed Henry myself, I would have. (Not with my own hand—that would have invited more danger and drama than even I could stomach. The Hellebore Sisterhood is at war every day, but I couldn’t very well spark an actual war between England and France.)
But I could have found an assassin, after all that transpired with Kat.
Henry was aging, ill, and rarely in control of his temper or faculties.
No one would have been surprised if a man of his health and drinking habits dropped dead.
More importantly, no one would have mourned him, at least not in their hearts.
And yet, even then, I hesitated. I had rarely ordered death, preferring more subtle means of change, and never for someone so powerful.
Looking back now, I see I made a mistake. One of the countless mistakes I have made, and no doubt will continue to make. But this mistake cost us all.
Dearly.