The Tudor Witch Book 1 Mistress

1524 Spring II (Edited)

I stare at Mary's waddling form as she wanders back to the palace. As I turn my attention to the page, the man grimaces in apology, as if it is he who has created this awkward situation and not the King of England and his petulant mistress. I act confident as I follow him to the King's tent. It is a struggle, for I am as nervous as I can possibly be. I have not even seen the King, so I did not for one moment think that he would notice me.

I brush my hands over my silk bodice. I think somewhere deep inside of me, some part of me has felt him catching stolen glances of me, as I have seen him do to other ladies of the court. Passionate lingering stares, which he holds for only a moment, before being distracted by someone or something else. I have seen that gaze before on Mary, and then upon her protruding stomach.

I notice the tent's silk flap is closed, though I do not recall it being so before. He stands holding it astride, but does not enter himself. He only gestures for me to go forward, to which I oblige. My palms begin to sweat. There were only three people in the tent: the King and his two attending gentlemen.

The king is nearly fully appareled in armor, the metal brightly polished and inlaid with gold. He is nearly ready for his turn in the joust. He turns towards me when he senses my presence. His face breaks into a beaming smile as he takes me in. His piercing blue eyes hold my gaze until I break away.

"Mistress Champernowne, thank you for coming," he says.

"It is an honor to be called upon, your Majesty," I say, my mouth dry.

He walks towards me. I am still unsure of what to do.

He grasps my hand in his, and lowers his face until he meets mine. I can't help but notice his height and his robust arms. I feel fragile in comparison. He is a handsome man, I see it now. His skin is smooth, and he has a charming smile. He falls into laughter quite easily. In the light, his auburn hair appears more red than brown.

He leaves me to stare, for he knows it can only do him good. The stories say he is the most handsome prince in Christendom, and for once, I think they may be right. He has an aura of absolute power surrounding him and he knows it. He has probably never been denied anything in his lifetime.

"Is there something you request of me, your Majesty?" I ask before realizing how chaste I sound.

Compared to the king, I must seem like an amateur. He must have bedded hundreds of women and courted thousands more. He is a master huntsman in all games of courtly love, whereas I am a floundering fish out in shallow water, easy pickings for one so skilled as he. I will be chewed up and spat out.

"I do require a small token from you," he says smoothly.

I pause and look up at him. In my head, I anticipate the worst possibilities. I imagine he would ask for a kiss, and it takes me a moment to realize how silly it sounds.

"I wish for your ribbon to wear in the joust."

My ribbon. My hand instinctively climbs to the top of my bodice, where a thin ribbon lays nestled, just in case a gentleman should ask for this request. My lace is of pale blue, like the sky, embroidered in white K's and surrounded in pretty blossoms. The King is known for asking this of his Queen. I suppose he still will, though he still wishes to request for mine privately. He would not want to envy the Queen by asking for my token publicly instead of asking for hers.

He takes the ribbon from my fingers, then kisses it before tucking it underneath his breastplate, out of sight. My brow furrows at this. He laughs, then remedies the situation swiftly. "Close to my heart, for safe keeping. I shall return it to you after the joust." I smile at his quick save. He truly has a way with words.

"Will you be there watching the game?" he asks.

"I can not. I have promised Mistress Carey that I would attend to her in her room."

It is his turn to furrow his brow. "And where is she now?"

I blush slightly, finding myself perhaps not in the right topic for conversation with the King. "She went on without me when I was asked to attend you," I say sheepishly.

He nods and sighs. I forget that she was his mistress. He must know her better than most. He is probably familiar with her whiney attitude. His exasperated expression suggests he is tired or it as well.

"You will watch the joust. She is probably already in her rooms and will no doubt be speaking of you angrily. I would not want you to spend a sunny afternoon stuck inside with an air as dark as that."

I can not refuse his command, and to be honest, I do not want to do so either. Mary, has been rude and I feel like I can not obey Anne's request while she is like this.

"I will stay and watch," I say.

His smile returns. "You must go and take a seat in preparation for the game."

I smile like the foolish girl that I am and run to take my seat before the joust begins anew.