Page 102 of Six Wild Crowns

Aragon quells the protest with a look. The princess glares at Boleyn as she leaves her post.

“You have a very good daughter,” Boleyn comments when they are alone. “I only hope that mine grows up to be as loyal.”

Queen Aragon purses her lips. There is little she can say that wouldn’t be beyond the bounds of courtesy – after all, Aragon never wanted Elizabeth to be born at all.

“I think we both wish the best for our daughters, do we not?” Boleyn says.

Aragon inclines her head. “Of course.”

“Lord Wolsey is already plotting Elizabeth’s marriage. At least my brother George had some say in choosing his spouses. I doubt Elizabeth will have that luxury.”

“It is the price of being a princess,” Queen Aragon says. She holds her arm out, and her monkey clambers down it, batting at theguirnaldanow looped around her wrist. “Your brother had a choice because he is not a prince. Or even a lord, if I remember correctly.”

Boleyn clenches her fists in her lap. She tries another way of sweetening Aragon. “I understand you have made Daven very prosperous since your marriage.”

“I have the wealthiest territory in Elben, yes.”

“And that was all through your own management. I am full of admiration. You have enriched Henry’s coffers significantly.”

Aragon looks at Boleyn through narrowed eyes. “Enough, Mistress Boleyn. Your attempts at charming me are clumsy. Let us speak honestly. My daughter, who as you have noticed is loyal to me, is guarding the door and will ensure that no one overhears us.”

She gestures to the table of wine. “Since we’re without help, would you be so kind as to pour me a drink?”

Boleyn does as she says, bringing them both goblets. Boleyn has no intention of touching hers – her head is already thick from the first. Aragon, however, drinks hers as though it’s honeyed tea, closing her eyes and taking deep inhalations between each sip. Boleyn tries not to notice as she tells her what she knows about the queens and the goddess. Aragon doesn’t pass comment, only listens, eyes mostly closed. If she’s shocked, she doesn’t show it, but that means nothing. She is a stateswoman – she will have learned not to betray her emotions.

“So do you think it possible for the six castles to form an agreement?” Boleyn finishes.

“Well, you certainly won’t catch Queen Parr without my involvement,” Aragon says. “She follows me in all matters political.”

“That is not an answer,” Boleyn says. If the oracle is right, she needs at least one of them on her side if she is to defeat Henry, otherwise she may as well not even try.

Aragon finally opens her eyes. She studies the goblet in her hand.

“My husband gifted this to me as a wedding present,” she says.

“It is very beautiful.”

“It’s made from Gythean silver. Do you know how precious that is? It’s only found in one place in the known world. At the very top of Mount Sancasias, where the old religions thought their gods dwelt. Only the very strongest can climb that high without losing their minds. It’s called the god’s metal. I think it might be the finest gift a king has ever given a queen, don’t you?”

“Our husband can be very generous when he is pleased.”

“He has never been anything but pleased with me.”

Boleyn sits back in her chair and looks around at the walls. The portrait she’s looking for sits above the fireplace – a huge painting of Queen Aragon, holding her daughter the Princess Tudor as a baby, her little round head covered in a bonnet embroidered with roses and pomegranates – the symbols of Elbenese and Quistoan royalty.

“I do admire that portrait. Although I wonder – could Henry not spare the time to stand with you and the princess?”

Queen Aragon flushes, and Boleyn knows she has her.

“Elben was at war with Capetia that year,” Aragon says. “He had to attend to his military duties. You would have been too young to remember.”

Boleyn pours more wine for them both, but when Aragon tries to take the goblet, Boleyn holds it out of her reach.

“If this lie is allowed to continue, the princess will be shipped off to goodness knows where as the consort of a stranger, when she could inherit Daven from you and rule as an equal sovereign.”

“I was shipped off to goodness knows where to be the consort of a stranger, madam, and I do not regret my life.”

Aragon tries to take the goblet once more, and once more Boleyn holds it out of her reach.

---