Someone clapped sharp and quick and sent a hush of quiet over my giggling tablemates. The courtier with the plume strode into the dining hall. His shoes, shiny black, clipped like horse hooves on a cobblestone street.

“Ladies.” He bowed a deep bow. “Once again, it is so good of you all to have accepted the King’s invitation and come to Court.”

I nodded as the fictitious and all-too-familiar speech of thanks rolled off his tongue. Again. In my mind, I mouthed the words along with him. The man never strayed from a syllable.

You are the most desirable women in the whole of England. We are humbled to have shared the company of women such as yourselves.

His plump lips smacked together as he spoke, like two pigs wallowing in the mud and bumping their rears together. “You are the most desirable women in the whole of England.”

A few women fanned themselves proudly.

“We are humbled to have shared the company of women such as yourselves.”

Next, he will say, ‘The King is greatly appreciative and eternally grateful’.

“The King is greatly appreciative and eternally grateful.”

In all his puffed out, done up splendor, the courtier hiccupped and let his drunken stare meet all of ours.

Perhaps that is why nobody else’s mugs were refilled.

When the large room was absolutely silent and every ounce of attention was centered on him, he spoke. “His Majesty, Henry the Eighth, King of England, Ireland, and France, thanks you all.”

One of the Dorset twins began to clap a slow clap. Soon everyone had joined in, everyone except me. I made a show of moving my hands from beneath the table, tapping the top of my left with the fingers on my right.

Perhaps His Majesty will believe I was clapping all the while.

A veil of cold sweat cloaked my forehead.

The courtier held out his hands, successfully shushing the impromptu applause. “In accompaniment to his humble thanks, His Majesty also sends news.” He broke from his standard soliloquy. “Her Majesty, the future Queen of England, sits among you!”

Another round of raucous applause and gasps filled the thick air. I hid a hiccup behind a pasted-on grin. The peacock centerpiece that stared at me from lifeless eyes seemed intent on haunting me.

The courtier grinned. His rotund cheeks were as shiny red as cherries. “His Majesty also sends a message of goodwill. He beseeches all of you to roam about the royal grounds at your leisure and rest well. While he must attend to business outside the castle this afternoon, he assures you all that word will come down tomorrow, answering the question of whom Her Majesty in fact is, in the manner of a formal announcement at breakfast.”

Mother Mary, do not leave me. Please, in your Holy Son’s Precious Name.

“For those of you charming elements of femininity who will not sit upon our country’s throne, His Majesty will gladly write letters of recommendation on your behalf. Your King will ensure that you each gain a husband worthy of your royal stature and ladylike demeanor.” The courtier bowed as low as his paunchy belly would allow. “And my dear ladies, do remember. For one of you today, you shall be roaming about what is already yours.”

He turned sharply on his heel and disappeared, past a tapestry, and out the partially open door into the dark corridors of the castle.

All the girls turned to each other in a cloud of excited, giggling whispers. Even the redhead next to me turned, grinning, to the silent girl from Nottinghamshire whose pale face hadn’t changed expression beneath her glistening raven locks since the morning—until now. All were giddy, enthusiastic.

All except me.

From behind the tapestry that hung almost to the floor, I caught sight of a slight movement. I adjusted in my seat and squinted into the shadows.

The tapestry moved again. This time, it was pushed out from the wall, as if by an arm. A gleam of light from a slatted window glinted off a golden necklace. My breath caught in my throat. An unblinking eye stared back at me.

That be him. King Henry VIII.

A rash of tremors shinnied down my spine. I covered my mouth with one hand as the other girls began to rise from their plush seats. However, staring into the brown eye of my Sovereign Lord, I sat paralyzed in mine.

Before I could rise from my stupor, before I could dip into a curtsey, the brown eye and glinting golden necklace disappeared. I rubbed my eyes.

Did that really happen? Perhaps I was dreaming. Perhaps it was the wine—

The sound of the heavy brown door sliding across the stone floor met my ears.

I wasn’t dreaming.

The tapestry hung still. Quickly as I had spotted him, Henry vanished.

Footfalls, slightly out of step, grew softer as the girls about me chattered on, oblivious to all that just happened.

I rose. The chills icing my body dulled to a warm sweat. Something in my stomach, probably the peacock, threatened to revolt.

Since we were released until morning, I dodged the bright glances from my fellow Ladies-of-Choice and started toward the same door that Henry and the Courtier had used.

Elizabeth spoke loudly to the girls who still circled the table. “Let us make a pact. Whichever of us becomes Queen, she shall appoint the rest of us as her Ladies-in-Waiting.”

Squeals answered her and echoed in the dining hall.

Unable to help myself, I peeked into the dark shadows behind the tapestry. Of course, it concealed no one. At least not anymore. I pushed the heavy wooden door until it slid outward in the same wood-scraping-stone sound I’d heard moments before.

Elizabeth’s musical voice tinkled along the stones behind me, just as it had when we were children together back home at Throckmorton Priory. “That way, we are all ensured a place a Court and not one of us must return home a failure.”

I shook my head as the door closed behind me.

Elizabeth, really.Appoint these women as your Ladies-in-Waiting? Women who want your place on the throne?

I shook my head again and whispered to myself as I picked my way down the halls in a feeble attempt to locate my chambers.

You aren’t even seated upon the throne of England, yet already you make grave mistakes.

The stone hall ended abruptly, the passageway was obviously sealed off some time ago. I turned and started back the way I’d come and let my fingers trace the wall for comfort. Still, I mentally flogged my cousin.

If every woman around you wants your job, chances are she will stop at nothing until she gets it.

I turned another corner, acutely aware that the servants who had been bustling about were no more.

If worrying over the wrath of your husband isn’t bad enough, you would have your ladies to fear as well. One may poison you... or arrange an accident... or sleep with the King and ask him to arrange your murder...

The candelabra above me flickered and sent a shiver coursing over my skin. Lady Rochford’s eerie, familiar smile flashed in my mind.

Stop it Bridget. You’re simply lost and it has been a trying day. I sucked in a deep breath. Now, try to remember—

A hand fell, feather light, upon my shoulder. “Lady Bridget.”