In which Nora of Lancaster continues to fight for her family and their rightful place on the throne of England, despite all that she has lost already.
THE WHITE PRINCESS
BOOK TWO IN THE COUSIN'S WAR SERIES
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The next morning, Lizbeth traveled to the King's Wardrobe, which had been burnt down by her several months before.
She found Henry there, causing her to feel uneasy.
"Scorched brick and burning wood," Henry informed her in a calm tone, "It smells of war."
"I know the smell," Lizbeth whispered, flashes of the aftermath of the Battle at Bosworth running through her mind.
She had run through the aftermath of the battle when she fled the war camp while trying to outrun Henry's men. She still dreamt of it. The smell, the sight of the bodies, the blood, the dismembered body parts. It was something she knew she'd never forget. It was scarring.
"If I close my eyes, it's as if I'm back at Bosworth, and no time at all has passed," He explained and Lizbeth tried to hide her uneasiness.
"Bosworth is a long time passed," She reminded him, despite neither her nor Henry believing it.
"You never knew the whole truth of how your brother Thomas died," Henry informed Lizbeth, who was quick to argue.
"He was beaten to death. You told me yourself," She replied, only to frown when she saw the look on Henry's face.
"I lied," He admitted in a whisper, causing Lizbeth to look concerned, "He was beaten, but not to death. He was beaten and beaten, but he wouldn't die. Arthur took his last breath, thinking Thomas was dead, too, but he wasn't. Not yet."
Henry sighed, beginning to walk around the room while Lizbeth tried to contain her sadness at the thought.
"One eye stamped from his head and the other still rolled and blinked," He explained, tears beginning to form in his own eyes at the thought, "He was still breathing, blood bubbling on his lips. The men violated his body again and again and I did nothing. I didn't stop them. I could have, but I didn't. I stood there and did nothing as they did everything you could imagine to Thomas. Like animals, they tore at him."
"Please, stop, Henry, I beg of you," Lizbeth pleaded, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
"I must tell you. Please, let me tell you," Henry insisted and Lizbeth sighed, saying nothing as he continued on, "We rolled him into a pit and threw earth on him and he was still alive when it hit his face. And I thought..." He trailed off, his breath becoming shaky, "Is this what happens to someone of royal blood?"
Lizbeth stared up at Henry, trying to maintain composure as she held back the tears that so desperately wanted to spill from her eyes.
"He rises in the morning and he is above all men, third only to the King and God himself, and by nightfall, he is an obscenity of flesh and splintered bone, choking on the mud that stuffs his mouth," He explained, tears spilling down his face, "Is this what happens to someone of royal blood?"
