The year is 1464.
The War of the Roses rages on; a great showdown between Lancaster and York.
Yet, asleep in her bed, fiery-haired Melissa Woodville dreams of splintered shields, broken swords, and the resounding screams of wounded men in the Battle...
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APRIL 9TH, 1469: It was Richie who brought her the news, grim-faced and exhausted from two non-stop days of riding. After making sure her twin was fed and rested, Melissa received the information from him firsthand, reading the king's letter over and over again, dread rising in the pit of her stomach.
"A ... Robin of Redesdale?" She repeated, for what seemed like the thousandth time. "A fanciful name for someone who has caused such unrest. Who is he really?"
"We do not know for sure." Richie shook his head. "But all the signs point to Warwick."
"Warwick," Melissa shut her eyes in despair. "He has set this Robin off to test England's loyalty to Edward, am I right?"
"Unfortunately so," her brother nodded grimly. "George Neville's dismissal as Lord Chancellor seemed to be the last straw."
The duchess' expression soured, remembering how — in 1467 — Edward had dismissed the Archbishop of York from his position. Not only was he that, but he was also Warwick's brother, and the thoughtless act, clearly done at Elizabeth's behest, simply could not be tolerated. The earl had retreated to his estates in the north, only rarely seen at court, and even his letters to Richard — whom he was said to deem as a son — grew few and far between.
"It is as I suspected, then. Isabel's marriage to George was not enough."
"No," Richie sighed. "Too many Neville relations scorned, too many of ours favored over theirs ... the culmination of it all was simply too much."
Melissa stood up, pouring herself a goblet of the finest Burgundian wine — a gift from Meg, with whom she had maintained regular contact.
"So, what are we to do, now? Does Richard know of this?" Her husband had been summoned to the king's presence a little less than two weeks ago.
