The Traitor's Daughter

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

King Owen couldn't sleep. He had tossed and turned for what felt like hours, had even called Isabel Morton to his room to help put him to sleep as well, but nothing seemed to work. He laid in bed and faced the sleeping blonde-haired girl next to him, his mind lost in his thoughts. Days earlier, he'd been informed that the woman he was certain he loved, Elizabeth Ashbury, or rather, Elizabeth Ledford, was an imposter and was truly plotting to destroy his life, perhaps even kill him.

He was certain that she was behind the attempted poisoning of his daughter, the near successful assassination of his wife, and the death of his unborn child. He wasn't certain anymore if Anne and Edward Hastings were truly guilty, as well as his former page that he had had put to death as well. In fact, he blamed her for every little thing that went wrong in his life ever since she had come into it months before, and he couldn't help but feel immense hatred towards the woman, considering how she had tricked him.

The king would never admit it, but he was embarrassed by the fact that he hadn't seen through the woman's façade, by the fact that a woman had been able to deceive him. He had shared a bed with the woman, had gifted her with her own home, as well as priceless pieces of jewelry. He had been vulnerable, and, given the chance, he was sure that Elizabeth had been close to killing him at any moment. He counted himself lucky to still be alive.

The king turned onto his back and stared up at the canopy on his bed, a frown on his face.

Now, he thought. It's your turn to fear for your life, Elizabeth Ledford.

All he had to do was wait. He had already signed her death warrant, but he didn't know where the vindictive woman was. Sir Richard had told him to be patient and that he would take care of everything when it came to finding her and getting a confession, but the king didn't care about a confession. He had heard enough from what Sir Thomas had told Sir Richard, and he wanted the woman's head on a pike so everyone could see.

Of course, he wouldn't really inform his courtiers of Elizabeth's true crimes. No. He would simply tell them that she was a traitor to the crown and leave it at that. He wouldn't let his courtiers know that he had believed everything that Elizabeth, her 'mother,' Mary, and his so-called friend, Henry, had told him. And he wouldn't let anyone else know that ever since he had found out about Elizabeth's true identity days ago, he'd woken up in a cold sweat every night since, screaming for mercy. It was all because of the same recurring nightmare.

Every night in his dreams, he was running from Elizabeth, who always seemed to find him, no matter how good his hiding place was. His guards who were supposed to be protecting him were useless and nowhere to be found, and Elizabeth came charging into his hiding place wielding a sword. Each time, he'd wake up before she'd plunge the sword into him with a sick grin on her face, and each time, he would wake up screaming at the top of his lungs, which caused his guards to come into his room searching for an intruder who wasn't really there.

He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in days, and he knew that he wouldn't until Elizabeth and the rest of her traitor friends were dead. He didn't even necessarily care so much about the others as much as he cared about Elizabeth. He wanted to have her tortured to the fullest extent, would even pass a law that allowed him to torture women if necessary, then he'd see that her head was swiftly removed from her body and left to be eaten by the birds, as most traitor's heads were. She would die the same death as her father, which brought a smile to his face.

At first, when Sir Richard had brought the news to him about Elizabeth, the king had laughed in his face. The small, terrified blonde-haired girl reminded him nothing of the grown, sophisticated woman that he currently knew. But when he had really thought about it, he saw similarities that he couldn't dismiss. The day that he had nearly strangled Elizabeth, had nearly taken advantage of her and scared some sense into the woman, was what had convinced him. The look of fear on her face when she realized what he meant to do was identical to the expression that she had had on her face ten years ago when Sir Richard had dragged her onto her father's scaffold and forced her to watch his execution. And to think, if he hadn't realized that sooner, it was possible that he would be dead by now.