He looks to Anne, who gives him a wide-eyed look in return. She whispers to the king. He whispers back and she nods what appears to be grudging approval.
Courtiers jostle for better positions in the crowd so they can hear and see. As a time traveler who has assimilated into dozens of cultures, in many time frames—not to mention a thief who’s had to talk her way out of trouble after being caught in the act—I like to think my performances rival any classically trained actress. This should be a piece of cake. “Very well,” I say. “Are you clever enough to solve this puzzle?”
“One lady conquers her foes on the board, her lord’s life to secure;
A second plays her hand with her love on her sleeve ‘til a suit of four be procured.
A third leads her fellows when they are abuzz, and their insults mightily sting;
Pray, what in common have each of these ladies when fortune kisses the ring?”
“Did I not tell you, sister?” Lady Mary says. “She is so clever, we must have her at court.”
“We shouldn’t be so hasty, sister,” Anne says, admonishing Mary with a sober look. “We must first know the riddle’s answer to see if it is, indeed, clever. What is the answer, Mademoiselle Clémence?”
“I’m sure a great mind such as Your Majesty’s will unravel the mystery,” I say, offering what I hope is my most flattering smile. “If not, then I shall tell you after you bring us to England.”
A collective gasp ripples from one end of the room to the other. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Fagin glaring at me. If it were possible for steam to rise from a human head, Fagin would be a smokestack of frustration and irritation. The room exhales when both kings and the would-be queen roar with laughter.
“Methinks she has, indeed, offered a great challenge to you, my lady,” King Henry says, kissing Anne on the cheek. “Come, sweetheart. Let’s find the answer together.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Anne says. She repeats the first line of the riddle. “One lady conquers her foes on the board, her lord’s life to secure.” She nibbles her lower lip as she thinks; her eyes sparkle. She lifts her chin and regards me with cool confidence. “In chess, which piece has the most power to protect her Lord, the king, from capture?”
Francois chuckles, then elbows Henry in the side. “The queen, of course.”
“Very good, majesty,” I say. “And the second lady who plays her hand with her love on her sleeve ‘til a suit of four be procured?” I raise a questioning brow, eyes drifting from one royal patron to the next.
King Henry’s eyes pop and he grasps Anne’s hand. “Perhaps the queen of hearts in a deck of playing cards.”
“Exactly.” I reward the correct answer with a flashing smile.
“Then, the final piece of the puzzle,” Anne juts her chin into the air, a self-satisfied smile on her lips. “A third leads her fellows when they are abuzz, and their insults mightily sting.”
I nod, my eyes locked on Anne. “And the last line?” Several seconds pass. Fagin walks to my side and loops her arm through mine.
“Perhaps, the last line refers to...” Anne pauses, considering. Then chuckles. “All of these ladies have one thing in common when fortune kisses the ring.” She lifts King Henry’s hand to her lips and plants a light kiss on his signet ring. “They are each a queen.”
“What a keen mind you have, Your Majesty,” I say. “You have guessed exactly right on every count.”
The room erupts in applause, as the royal party makes their way from the dais to the dance floor. Anne glows from the adulation. “You have won your prize, mademoiselle. You have a place with my ladies in our English court.”
“Dancing!” King Francois says, with a wave to the musicians. “We shall have more dancing!”
The music begins anew, and the royals make their way to the dance floor. Before the dance begins, I overhear Anne conspiring with her sister. “At the very least, this French beauty may be a great challenge to our brother’s wife, that little cur. It will be great entertainment to watch Jane squirm when we unleash Mademoiselle Clémence at court.”
As the sisters laugh over plans for their sister-in-law’s humiliation, Fagin hugs me tightly. “You did it, ma petit. There’s the Dodger I know and adore!”
“Well done, kiddo,” Nico says, echoing the sentiment.
I can’t revel in this first victory. My mind is stuck on the Boleyn sisters using me as their weapon of mass destruction against their sister-in-law. Is this arrogant enjoyment of domination just another family heirloom to be passed down like money, titles, and land? There’s no one here to stop them in their cruel games.
Well, that’s not exactly true. There’s me.
Chapter 14
`
I didn’t think it was possible for Becca Trevor to be more grating, more annoying, more Becca than before, but somehow she is. As she stares glassy-eyed into the half-empty mug of coffee in front of her, she punctuates guttural moans with curses.
“Shit,” she says. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Her eyes are red, puffy. She clamps her fists over her ears and throws a murderous glance at Nico as he ambles past on his way from the galley to the cockpit, coffee in hand, to perform the morning system checks. He whistles an effervescent rendition of Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy and gives me a mischievous wink as he whistles louder.
“He’s a sadist,” Becca says, her voice is a sandpaper rasp, the result of a morning spent retching into the toilet.
“You missed a helluva party last night,” I say, raising my voice. I slide onto the booth and clank my coffee cup and bowl of cinnamon oatmeal down hard onto the table. “What happened?”
“You’re both sadists,” she says, flattening her palms against her ears, trying to muffle the noise.
“Are you ill? You were well enough at dinner last night.” I lean across the table and place the back of my hand on her
