Way to go, Emmeline Eleanor WTF-have-you-gotten-yourself-into Grace.
Now, because of my mistakes—and my deluded, naïve belief in love—the wrath of Nicholas the Ironheart would make sure that I wouldn’t leave Tudor England alive.
Nightmares invaded any sleep I managed that night, filled with horrific sounds and images of wild spectators howling for my head at Tower Hill. If only it was still winter with a delayed sunrise to bless me with a few more hours of life. But spring had arrived and dawn would come quickly, bringing with it my execution.
As soon as the inky-black sky through the stained-glass window began to lighten, there was zero chance of more sleep. Frail with terror but determined not to be dragged outside in the nude, I tied on my plain, mint-colored kirtle and sat on the end of the bed. I lowered my head into a meditative position and tried to switch off my mind. I’d seen movies where criminals were in such a numb daze by the time they climbed the gallows that they didn’t look afraid anymore.
No such luck. When a key twisted in the lock, and the wooden door swung heavily toward me, my anxious stomach surged and heaved, emptying bile onto the painted floor tiles.
“Wash that in haste,” a velvety voice commanded the door guard.
I glanced up into the sunlit features of Nicholas the Ironheart. Immediately, I slid away as if looking directly at him would kill me right there. I felt his brilliant, deadly eyes assessing me.
“Go away…just go away,” I whispered lifelessly. I resisted the urge to puke again as the guard scrambled in with a bucket and cloth. Nick stood with his arms crossed, glaring at the guard, who gave the spot a token cleaning before escaping again. The king charged at the door, heaving it shut before twisting a key in the lock.
I finally found my voice. “Get OUT!” I screamed. How dare he show his face to me? I was so physically livid that I could feel my skin burning and my teeth grinding.
Nick held out a shaky palm. “I bid you to be calm.” It took me back in time to the similar words he’d said when we’d first met, when I was a prisoner in the Tower of London last time. “Be calm,” was the first thing he’d ever said to me. We’d officially come full circle.
I opened my mouth to reply, but the torrent of abusive things that I wanted to yell became confused in my throat. My jaw clenched until it hurt. Even if Nick had sorted out his messed-up head and was here to issue an eleventh-hour pardon, it was too late. I’d been publicly shamed and sentenced to die as a traitor, a witch, and an adulteress. Not even the king had the power to turn back the clock on that.
“How could you do this to me?” I eventually gasped. I wanted to shout the words, but my throat was too choked, my eyes too thick with tears.
“I pray that you hear me,” said Nick, sinking to his knees until our faces were level. “You must know the cause of mine actions.” His visible regret flooded me with more rage.
“You do feel bad,” I realized with horror. “You feel guilty about what you did to me in one of your insane tantrums, and now you want me to forgive you so you’ll feel better after it’s over. You’re off your freaking rocker!”
When he opened his mouth again, I cut in first.
“Why didn’t you just let me go?” I pleaded, my voice shredded. “No one would have looked for me in the gardens at night. I’d have just fallen asleep. I’d have disappeared. There were so many ways you could’ve swept my memory under the rug and moved on. I gave up everything for you—my entire life! Why would you punish me like this?” My face crumbled with more stinging tears. Worse than the punishment itself was the thought that Nick had instigated it…that had always been the most painful part.
“Forgive me…I bid you to cry not,” he said throatily, reaching for me. I jerked away so violently that his hands shot up in defense.
“Don’t you ever tell me what to do,” I spat. “And don’t you ever touch me again. Just get the hell away from me!” I crossed my arms over my knees, forming a tight ball. I’d stay that way until they dragged me down to the executioner’s block. I was no longer human. I was ready to die.
A thundering of raging voices surged from a distance below, wafting through the window that was slightly ajar.
The crowds are already waiting for me. My nightmare is coming true.
I tried to shut out the hideous chants with my hands over my ears but to no avail.
Nick had moved to the window. “Do you hear that?” he said.
I threw him my most colorful foul-mouthed response.
Despite the modern language, I could tell he grasped the sentiment. He bit his lip and edged the windowpane further open with his elbow. “Listen closely,” he said, watching me.
He actually wanted me to hear the bloodthirsty Emmie-haters crying for my head. What kind of sicko was he? Before I could reply, the drumming of feet from afar was chased by three cries of “God save the king!”
Nick swallowed tightly. “It is now done,” he said.
“What’s done?” I could’ve slapped him.
“The traitor, Henry Howard, has been beheaded.”
“What?”
I didn’t think I’d heard right. The room was whirling in all directions.
Nick stepped closer to me, his voice thick. “Last night, Henry Howard was tried, charged, and convicted of high treason against the King of England for launching a plot of rebellion and for plotting the poisoning of Mistress Lucinda Parker.”
He took a shaky seat beside me on the bed. All I could do was gape at his ashen face, his soft scent of roses infuriatingly close to my nose. I hated myself for how much I still wanted to touch him. Why couldn’t I be free of that at least before he killed me?
A shimmer of tears coated Nick’s eyes. “Emmie, I did not permit you to vanish from the garden the night of your arrest because I was in need of time. I had to make new a record of my last will and testament so I could make no error in naming the Princess Catherine Tudor as my successor. Kit was plainly my heir apparent, but I needed to make the line of succession certain if I am to surrender my kingship. I was also in need of time to gather the evidence to ensure that Henry Howard would be convicted of treason.” His distressed eyes could hardly meet mine. “I pray you will forgive me. You needed to believe it to be true as much as my subjects or their faithless army may have killed you in haste. I had to make certain there was no suspicion of any plotting between us.”
I lowered the arm that had covered my eyes as if it could protect me from Nick’s insane words. My voice was a faint line. “What on earth are you talking about?”
He glanced up at me, and our eyes seared together, drawing heat to my cheeks. Nick’s breath wavered as he spoke. “The instant that I learned of Howard mounting his assault on the castle—meaning to take you from me—I was certain that I would boil alive every last one of them. Not only the men, but their brothers…their fathers…their sons.” His cheeks reddened with shame. “I cannot bear to handle this beast I have inside me. You know there is true darkness in me. But the blacker the darkness, the brighter the light that shines upon it.” He slid closer, his presence rattling me from the inside out. “I have tried to forget you, more than once. I did consider removing you from my world that night in the garden—bidding you to leave with my blessing—but all I see without you is intolerable darkness.” His forehead tilted so close to mine that I could taste the mint on his breath. “Therefore, if you must take leave of this kingdom and I cannot bid you to stay, then—with your consent—I will leave with you.”