Before Anne Boyeln, there was another. This is her story.
Scarlett, an orphaned, seventeen-year-old girl grew up on England's monarchy, tending the stables. Scarlett's gift of beauty soon becomes a curse as she catches the eye of the most powerful...
My heart froze in disbelief. The King, how did he know, better yet... Why hadn't he warned the guards to stop us sooner?
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"Tyson, leave us." The King spoke down to Tyson, as his grip tightened around my trembling hand.
"Never." He spat back, dismounting his horse as if he were ready to enter battle.
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"Really boy? Do you not see I have not called on my guards to return you to your cell and imminent doom? If you do not let me speak alone with Scarlett, I will call them at once." His eyes were focused, he was not bluffing.
I faced Tyson's unyielding stance. "Tyson, it's ok. Go prepare the horses."
He looked at me, cautious, muddled. He then shot his glance towards Henry "If you hurt her, I will end you."
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Henry just chuckled in response, as his gaze followed Tyson until he vanished within the stables. "You think of me so poorly that I would underestimate your determination?"
"I guess I underrated you," I replied; my mind chaotic. How would this conversation end?
"You hate me for sending away the man that took you from me, don't you?"
"Your grace, I do not hate you. Hatred vanished long ago." I abide in a confident manner.
"Then why did you fall for another. One word of adoration from you will silence my tongue forever."
