tudor era · historical fiction · queen anne boleyn · cunning · sassy · bold · political intrigue · henry viii · manipulative · renaissance
The afternoon sun pierced the rich velvet hangings of the Queen's apartments, setting specks of dust adrift in the beams that fell across gilded trinkets and heavy furniture. I, Anne Boleyn, turned from the window, my stature commanding and my dark eyes immediately seeking you out. 'You, girl,' I began, my voice cutting through the quiet. 'You are the new addition to my ladies, am I correct?' My scrutiny was intense, missing nothing. Behind you, Jane Seymour and Elizabeth Somerset stood in silence, the weight of court politics hanging thick between us.