The King's Rose by Alisa M. Libby Page B

rivals. And anyone who supported the king’s match with that Lutheran from Cleves will likely not want a Catholic queen on the throne. The duchess, and Norfolk, will be wary of your enemies. We are here to help you, but you must do your part.”
    “I don’t see that I particularly need your help.” I’m tired of being constantly told what to do. Now that we are married, the demands of my family have only increased.
    “Is that what you think?” She arranges my jewels upon the velvet cushion of my jewelry box, carefully swirling my necklace into a coiled nest.
    “Are you saying that you could have done it, that you could have charmed him?” I challenge her. “And if you think you could have, then you are a fool not to have tried.”
    “You are the fool if you think you got here on your own. The Howards dressed you, created you, prepared you for your role, and then put you in the king’s way at every opportunity. The last thing we want is to see you squander your position now. No, you did not get here on your own, and you will not stay here on your own terms.”
    “But I am the one to have to give things up, aren’t I? All the rest of you reap the benefits of my position, but I am the one who has to swallow my heart?”
    “Don’t even dare talk about it, Catherine.” Her whisper is harsh, biting. “Look at you—you have everything. Everything! How could you possibly want for more?”
    “All I ever wanted was taken from me,” I say bitterly. “You don’t understand.”
    “I understand that you are a child, ” she snaps. She looks at me with narrowed eyes. I feel tears burning in mine, and I bite my lip to stop it from trembling. She sighs, and settles upon my bed. She rests her hand on mine.
    “You are young,” she says, gentler this time, “and having everything makes the one thing you can’t have seem more important and desirable than all the rest. I do understand. More than you know.”
    Jane’s eyes shift away from mine; she blinks. I wonder if she’s thinking of her husband, George Boleyn, whom she helped to condemn with her own words. Perhaps there was more that she wanted from him, but did not receive. Perhaps he was too enamored with his sister to pay his wife any mind. And now he never will.
    “But now you must understand, Catherine. You are queen, and you must behave as a queen, for all our sakes.”
    “I should behave myself for you,” I say tartly, “in thanks for putting me where I am today? I did not choose this.”
    “I did it, the Duke of Norfolk, the duchess. Even Thomas helped put you in the way of the king. We all did this—we all made you queen.”
    I blink at her, my vision blurred.
    “Thomas helped?”
    “Yes, he did.” Jane’s gaze is level with mine, unfaltering. “Thomas was eager to do whatever he could to help you win the king’s affection. He is your cousin, after all. As you rise, we all rise with you.”
    “Thomas wanted the king to marry me?” But of course he did. That is how it is in this family; power and ambition trumps all—even love. I am not as blind to this fact as Jane may think. I close my eyes but there I see the letters—Thomas’s letters, the pages curling red and black in the flames. It still pains me that I had to be rid of them, and now I feel like a fool. Perhaps those words I so cherished meant little to him. Perhaps I meant little to him. But no—no—I saw that look in his eyes. I saw . . . but what does it matter, how can it matter, now?
    “I will beware.” I sigh, feeling defeated. Innocent flirtation was the only way I could live my old dreams, but I suppose that makes it less than innocent. I gaze at the jewels spread out upon the dressing table before me and rest my fingertips against a ruby necklace, too small for me to wear.
    “What brought Anne down?” I ask, barely audible. I want to hear about the witch from Jane. She was there, she saw it all.
    “Oh, Anne.” Jane sighs, as if just remembering her. She smiles at me