The Tudor Witch Book 1 Mistress

1524 New year (Edited)

The Queen sits gracefully, watching down from her dais. Her auburn hair holds the telltale signs of aging, and her face is beginning to thin. Yet, despite her obvious signs of senescence, her gray eyes remain fierce. Leaning to the side, she whispers to her current favorite, Mistress Darrell. The girl giggles in response to the Queen's words while she glances down at me.

I curtsy as low as I can, as a sign of respect. They both stare at me until my calves begin to ache, then, at last, she welcomes me to her chamber. I take a seat, grateful to no longer be standing, and relieved to not be under scrutiny.

I think she believes me to be her husband's mistress. This suspicion was only one of a dozen rumor-based reasons for the Queen's contempt towards me, but it is the only way I can explain her cold behavior towards me. I sigh in frustration. You would think in a court such as this one, with spies aplenty and hollow walls, she would have been better informed on who is currently bedding the King.

I glance up at the Queen, whose eyes only a moment ago bored down on me. I had been told that she was a gracious and virtuous woman. Perhaps, I had been misinformed, for she has been nothing but cold these past weeks, and she sure knows how to make a woman feel unwelcome and shunned down. I realize now that any love she may have given me due to a fondness of my sister is now gone. She has written me down as a woman not to be trusted and I will always remain that way.

"You should not be surprised by the Queen's behavior," Mary, Anne's sister, whispers to me.

I glance at her. She is sat next to me, attempting to tidy up her needlework. "I do not deserve such shunning," I say back.

"Of course you do," she says pleasantly.

I should have expected this. The King's wife and mistress have both felt threatened by the gossip of the King's new mistress. Both have been abandoned by the same man, and because of this, have resorted to connive against their common enemy: me.

"Mary, I have not been with the King," I say adamantly.

She looks at me, studying my expression. "I know you and Anne both planned to bed the King," she whispers.

I take a minute to think of a response. "We both planned to, but once you had gained his affections, neither of us pursued the matter. We both knew he and you were together; it would have been pointless and hurtful to bed him."

"What then of the turning of the New Year?" she asks, her hand pressed to her stomach.

"What of it? He partnered me for a dance. There was nothing to it," I say. I can see hope gleam in her eyes, so I push on.

"We all know he is infatuated by you, Mary. He would not even know my name if you asked it of him. You are, after all, the fairest among us and, most importantly, you are carrying his child."

She smiles at that. Anne had told me she is always pliable when coaxed with sweet adoring words, especially when it highlights carrying the King's child—the greatest honor of all, supposedly.

"It is true. I do carry his child and he will love me more when the child is born a boy," she says, barely audible as she strokes her stomach gently.

I make myself smile for her sake. I do not add that the King, although happy that she is carrying his child, no longer holds interest in bedding her now that she is pregnant. She may have held his attention with her fair looks, but she is no longer suitable in his mind to play the part of a mistress.

* * *

It is nearly time for dinner, and the corridors are nearly empty. Everyone is either getting ready for the nighttime meal, or occupied with pressing business. No one gives me a second glance as I walk the now familiar passageways. Guards in Howard livery let me through, recognizing my familiar face.

I smile when master Ashley comes into view. His hard-set face softens when he sees me. He trails behind me as I walk towards my chamber. I stop short of entering. He falls into the shadows, and towers above me before leaning in and kissing me softly, his unshaven stubble tickling my face.

"You taste so sweet, Katherine," he whispers.

I giggle like a girl at his words, biting my lip in response. His breath sharpens at my action. A soft growl emanates from him as he leans in once more, covering me in sensual kisses.

"I must leave you. We can not be seen like this." He breaks away.

I frown at his words, and drag him closer, my hand searching for the door behind me. He sees my action and grabs my hand. "Not in there. If caught, it would ruin you, Katherine."

He is right and has been every time for the past serval weeks. When we find ourselves in an amorous situation, I wish to continue further. He always stops me, always being the gentleman knight I know him to be, but there is a desire which has me aching for the rest of the night.

One fact is certain: I no longer wish for the King's interest. I have tried to play dumb when drawn into another man's conversation with me. I have refused my brother's lame attempts to dance and perform, for I only want Master Ashley's attention, not others'.