In the Shadow of Lions by Ginger Garrett Page B

tried to pull her hands out from his but he drew her closer yet. She was crushed against his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist, with her looking up at him, the sunlight burnishing his red hair and making his eyes glisten like embers.
    “I will not be won. Only, do not abandon me, Anne. Swear it. Swear allegiance to your king.”
    “Do not say that, my lord,” she whispered.
    He crushed her tighter. “Swear allegiance to your king!”
    “I swear my allegiance,” she said under her breath, thinking the pressure would cause her to black out.
    She could smell his robes, anointed with cinnamon oil and spices, as the heavy gold and jeweled chain around his shoulders crushed into her skin. The shining hurt her eyes, and the world spun. She let him take more of her weight.
    “Wolsey, More, the men of the Star Chamber, they would choose tranquility with her over my conscience,” he said. “I am suffering, but do you see me complaining in the streets? No. As a man, I do not matter. I do not exist. It is as king that I must act, and I must do what is right.”
    “As must I,” she said, finally pushing him away. “I cannot lie with you. I cannot receive your gifts. You must not try to persuade me again. Let me return to the court and marry Lord Percy.”
    He looked stung, but the look deepened as if the venom found a quick vein. “Lord Percy does not wait for you. He married another last week, did you not hear? A woman of excellent name.”
    Anne gasped, her mouth hanging foolishly. She prayed she would not cry in front of him and bit her lip.
    “I have brought you to my table, Anne, and given you a brace of cards. Whether you lose or win is your decision, but you are in the game. And you will wear that,” he said, pointing to the ring.
    They walked back out into the sunlight, Anne clutching him harder. Her legs were weakening, and she had no energy to support her throbbing head. The guards and courtiers all averted their eyes. Wolsey walked to them.
    Henry grabbed her hand and presented it, with the fat emerald upon it.
    Wolsey’s mouth puckered. “Well.”
    Henry burst out laughing. “ Well ,” he mimicked.
    “You will not be dissuaded? You know the type of woman she is. You know what she brought into your courts,” Wolsey said with a shake of his head.
    Henry bowed to her, a great embarrassment in front of the malicious court, and began his walk into the palace.
    Wolsey began to follow him, but Anne grabbed his hand. It was cool in comparison to her own. Wolsey’s eyes narrowed, and he shook himself free.
    “Please, Cardinal,” Anne said, “this is not my work.”
    “What do you want from me, Anne? You have more influence with the king than I in this matter.”
    “No! You have more influence,” she replied. “And you have the Pope’s ear.”
    He studied her. “I thought you did not want to be a queen.”
    “I do not want to be a mistress! Only you can protect his name, and mine.”
    Wolsey looked at her, his eyes watery and soft in the bright sun. He had a kind face, Anne thought, too kind for this work. This was not the age for men of compassion.
    “You have shown yourself as an enemy of the realm, Anne. In time Henry will see it too. This is a prophecy as certain as anything in that black book you secreted away in your trunk.”
    He took his leave of her without another word, and Anne was left alone while yet surrounded by courtiers and guards who did not speak to her as they moved past. She waited for her attendant to find her and show her which room at Greenwich was to be hers and tried to keep from crying in front of any of them. She bit down on the inside of her cheek and clenched her lips together.
    The sun bore down strangely, and sweat beaded along her lip and down between her breasts. She shrugged, trying to make herself comfortable as the heat grew remorseless. A cough rattled her chest—not the deep cough of a winter cold, but a choking, bloody cough. She saw the sleeves of her