My stomach cramps. This is wrong. So very wrong.
We watch Anne’s eyes dart around the room. She’s fully awake now, too, and looks bewildered. “Uncle?” There’s the hint of a smile on her face, as though she thinks this might be someone’s idea of a tasteless prank—one which would surely cost the jokester their standing at court, if not their head. “What is your meaning? Surely, you can’t believe—”
“I am entirely in earnest, Your Grace,” he says in a tone that suggests this is anything but a joke. “Last evening, the king received information that you have been unfaithful to His Majesty. After questioning several witnesses, a talisman was found in the king’s chambers under his bed, one that was seen in your possession by your ladies. Bishop Fisher has pronounced it cursed with a spell to tempt the king into your bed.”
“Sir, I am no witch,” Anne says, crying out in rage. “The king loves me of his own accord. He knows his own mind and my conscience, in any regard to the king, is clear.”
“Have you no concern for your immortal soul that you lie so egregiously?” Norfolk tugs a piece of parchment free from its place tucked into his belt. He snaps the paper open with a flick of his wrist and reads:
I weep for our lost love as I prepare to marry the king. I beg you, do not exile me from your heart. I could not bear it, if you do. This child I carry is yours, not his.
My heart skips a beat. No. Oh, no, no, no, NO!
“What’s going on?” Fagin cuts in, talking over the hologram audio. “Anne Boleyn isn’t arrested for treason, and executed, for four more years. This isn’t—”
“Sh!” Nico hushes her and points back to the hologram. “Listen.”
“What letter is that you read?” Anne says. A wild and terrified look washes over her face, and she leaps from her chair. “Do you think to accuse me with this falsehood? The child I carry is the king’s!” She snatches the letter from her uncle and scans it, her lips moving as she silently reads.
“This was delivered to the king last evening,” Norfolk says. “We have confirmed the charges with Lady Rochford, and many other witnesses, that you dallied with Sir Thomas Wyatt in your private quarters, and—”
“Falsehood!” Anne screams. She crumples the paper in her hands and moves toward the fireplace.
Norfolk blocks her path and wrestles the letter away from her. “We have Wyatt’s confession.”
Anne freezes in place, her face a mask of horror and disbelief. “No. It isn’t true. You must have tortured him to gain a false confession. Anything he said under the pain of torture is suspect. There is nothing between him and me.”
Out of patience, Norfolk glances at the two guards flanking him on either side. With a quick jerk of his head, he gives the command for the guards to take Anne into custody. “You have offended our sovereign the king’s grace in committing treason against his person, and you are condemned to die for your crimes. You will be imprisoned in the Tower of London until the king’s pleasure is further known.”
Lady Anne wails as the guards drag her from the room by her wrists.
Nico pauses the hologram. For a moment, we stand in stunned silence. My arms and legs feel like they’re weighted down, and a surreal kaleidoscope of images swims through my head as the last twelve hours rewind themselves in my brain. I know the contents of that letter. Faking Anne’s declaration of love for Thomas Wyatt should have resulted in banishment from court, not arrest. Tenterhooks of regret rake through my heart like scalding claws. Did I so badly miscalculate the king’s reaction? What have I done?
Fagin explodes. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” Nico says. “I kept searching surveillance tapes after you both went to bed. The MicroCam in Lady Anne’s chambers is motion-triggered and set to higher priority than cameras in the common areas. When Norfolk entered with the guards, the feed popped up on my auxiliary screens. When I realized what was happening, I called you.”
“This isn’t supposed to happen,” Fagin continues, nervously. “She has to give birth to Elizabeth.” She stops and looks at me. “What was the last thing you saw Anne doing? Did you see any of this going on? You’ve been with her more than any of the rest of us, surely, you must’ve seen something if these accusations are true.”
The cramps in my stomach have migrated to my chest in a radiating, constricting band of spasms in my chest. It’s suffocating me. I have to get out of here.
“Dodger!” Fagin grabs my shoulders and gives me a shake.
I run my tongue over my parched lips and try to focus. I must choose my words carefully; I can’t give anything away. Not right now. “I’ve seen no evidence of witchcraft.” Then, glancing at Nico. “Where’s Trevor now?”
Nico taps the control panel. “Lieutenant Trevor, report in,” he says. There’s nothing, not even static, over the CommLink. He waits a few seconds and tries again. “Trevor, do you read me?”
Still nothing. Nico shakes his head and taps the panel again. He peers at the data onscreen and lets out a long breath. “She’s not onboard. She must’ve removed both her LensCams and CommLink because I have no audio or image feeds from her for the last twelve hours. There’s not even a bio-signature reading. She’s gone completely off-grid.” Nico’s eyes widen in understanding. His eyes sear into mine and I can hardly stand the weight of them. “You think she had something to do with this?”
Until I find out exactly what happened, I’m not getting anywhere
