Page 58 of The Rest is History
‘I’m more of a Hilary Mantel man, myself,’ I say, and I swear Elodie rolls her eyes, ‘but wouldn’t Mafia romance be very misogynistic?’
Zara sighs. ‘Very. And we were just discussing our double standards. Like why we’re attracted to stuff in books that would be fuck-off red flags in real life.’
My gaze flits to Elodie and back to Zara.
‘Fascinating. And what did you conclude?’
‘That books are a safe place to explore fantasies that push the boundaries.’
Did they, now?
I’m silent, spearing a piece of tenderstem broccoli with my fork.
‘It’s the wholeI’d burn the world down for youenergy, right?’ Zara continues. ‘It’s so hot. I mean, who wouldn’t want a tough guy to burn the world down for them?’
‘Who, indeed,’ I deadpan.
Elodie’s being very quiet, but Zara doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Of course, you guys both know who’s the ultimate example of that energy,’ Zara says.
Elodie and I exchange a panicked glance.
‘Come on, guys. Henry VIII. He’s the perfect example. I mean, he literally razed monasteries to the ground for Anne Boleyn.’
I can’t allow this kind of reductionism. I set my fork down. ‘The situation was far more complex than that, Zara, and you know it.’
‘Humour me for a sec, Charlie. I mean, God bless him, the guy wasn’t a looker, but I know he cut an imposing figure in his day. And that desperation he had for Anne? That washot.One of the most powerful rulers in the world, used to getting everything he ever wanted, but he couldn’t have her. He was frantic. He would have burnt every monastery in the country to the ground to get her.
‘He broke with Rome—yeah, yeah, I know there was a groundswell of religious reform happening, but she was the catalyst. He executed men who couldn’t get him a divorce. The guy couldn’t think straight. Basically, it feels like he was thinkingwith his dick most of the time. He’d never seen anything like her. She held all the power.’
I close my eyes briefly at the worddickand draw strength from somewhere deep inside me. Jesus Christ.
‘Their relationship was a deeply fucked-up, toxic power play from the start,’ Elodie tells Zara. ‘But she didn’t hold the power, absolutely not. She was the sole focus of a monarch with absolute power in a patriarchal society. She had very little power. What was different about Anne was that the tiny piece of power she held in her hands? She wielded it to perfection. It was like a decade-long chess match.’
‘Elodie’s correct,’ I interject. ‘Anne played her hand like a grandmaster. But it was a constant battle for her. Holding Henry off and keeping him interested for those long years while they fought for the divorce.’ I shake my head. ‘I can’t imagine the toll it must have taken on her.’
Elodie’s head jerks up in surprise. ‘I’ve always thought exactly that,’ she says softly. ‘The push-pull of getting the dynamic exactly right. Keep him hanging on, but don’t piss him off too much. And all the time, with every year that passed, her fertility levels would have been declining. It was such a waste. She must have been so worried that she was heading down a road towards a dead-end.’
She gazes at me before Zara breaks the moment.
‘Dead-end.No pun intended, right?’
I flinch. So does Elodie.
Zara leans forward conspiratorially. ‘Can you imagine, though, what their wedding night must have been like? Henry must have been fuckingunleashed. Imagine finally getting your hands on someone you’ve wanted for that long.’ She shudders. ‘Gives me goosebumps.’
It’s giving me a lot more than goosebumps. My dick stirs at her words. That’s how I felt the other day when I got Elodie tomyself.Fucking unleashed.Being able to put my hands on her. My mouth on her. My fingers inside her. God help me. And the idea of a wedding night with her—of having her laid out for me on a bed with the knowledge that she was mine forever?
Jesus Christ.
Deflection is the only option here. The only way I can keep my cool.
‘You’ve been reading too many romance novels,’ I tell Zara coldly, but Elodie clearly hasn’t got the memo that we should quit this inflammatory topic while we can.
‘Anne and Henry didn’t have a proper wedding,’ she tells Zara. ‘At least, not a public one. We don’t even know when they got married. It was probably January 1533, but it was a private affair. The big event was her coronation.’
Zara looks like a child who’s just been told there’s no Father Christmas. ‘No big wedding?’ She pouts. ‘That’s a bit anticlimactic.’
