The Tudor Witch Book 1 Mistress

1523 Kent (Edited)

The wine here is different. It does not have the same thick, velvety taste as the wine I am accustomed too. However, this does not stop me from drinking. I sip on the red liquid slowly, as we sit in Joan's chamber next to the warming fireplace, gossiping like fishwives. My sister's face flushes—from the fire or the wine, I am unsure. She has found a liking to the bitter liquid, for she is drinking it in larger gulps, and is already on the verge of becoming giddy from the wine.

I move closer to the fire, stretching my hands out towards the hot flames. The nights are colder in England. A cool breeze can materialize in the atmosphere, then inadvertently turn into a harsh wind—speckled with rain—in the blink of an eye. It would then cook up a storm like those over the English channel—storms powerful enough to sway ships and shake the foundations of houses.

I have only been here a few days but I feel like I have never been parted from my sister. We were close as children, and like most siblings, we have drifted apart over the years, only to restore our the powerful bond we'd had now. She appears older than I remember, even though only a few years have passed. I can only assume marriage is the reason. She still laughs like the girl I know and jests with me relentlessly but I can see something missing in her eyes, the joys of blissful youth snuffed out.

"Philip will be coming in a few days to collect you, then escort you to court," my sister says.

I take a sip of the bitter drink. "Finally. It has taken him long enough to make his way to see me." I remark.

Joan smiles at me. "He can not help himself. The women adore him. He is a fine sportsman—very handsome, too—and he is a companion to the king."

"Let me guess . . . mother's encouragement?"

"No. Mother has requested his presence back home more than once. I am surprised father has not dragged him back to France to marry a wealthy woman,"she replies.

I smile at the thought of father traveling to collect his reprobate son from the king of England. She smiles back as she grabs the jug to refill our glasses. "How am I meant to compete with these women, Joan?" I wonder aloud.

"You will be fine. You are beautiful, Kat. You're kind and modest . . . Just be yourself. He will find it refreshing to have something new." She runs her hand through my hair as she speaks.

I am not sure if I believe her encouraging words. "Will you help me, Joan?" I plead.

A dry chuckle emerges from her throat. "Help sister, in what way? You wish me to seduce the king for you?"

I give her a gentle push on the arm. "If you would not mind." She looks at me blankly "I am only kidding. I mean, advise me if I am doing something right, or if what I am doing is wrong. Let me know if he notices me. Things like that, Joan. Guidance."

"I can give you guidance," she says simply. "I am happy you are here, Kat. For once, my husband has to take me to court with him. It would be unseemly if he took my little sister to court without a female chaperone."

"Why does he not take you to court?" I ask, intrigued.

"He is seeing someone behind my back. It is easier to leave me behind here, so he does not feel as guilty for cheating on me." She replies, catching me off-guard. "I will help you in your task, Kat, if you help me find out which English woman has taken my husband from me."

I look at my sister. I notice the fatigue around her eyes. The transition from France to England has been hard on her, more so than I realized. Her husband has not been faithful to her. I bring my sister into an embrace and she lets the few built up tears escape her eyes.