Free The Tudor Secret by C. W. Gortner Page A

much: If you value your skin you’ll stay far from Elizabeth. She’s poison, just like her mother. No good ever came of the Boleyn witch, and none will come of the daughter.”
    He flung the words at me like filth. It was a warning I knew I should heed, but at that moment all I wanted was to get away from him and the Dudleys, no matter the cost.
    “Be that as it may, I have my master’s bidding to fulfill.”
    “If you go after her,” he said, “I’ll not be responsible for it. I’ll not protect you from the consequences. Do you understand? If you go, you’re on your own.”
    “Perfectly.” I inclined my head and walked around him. I did not look back, though I could feel his eyes boring into me. I had the uncanny sensation that despite his threats, he understood what I was about to do, that somehow, in a distant past, he’d felt the same compulsion, and was, in his belligerent way, trying to save me from myself.
    Then all thought of him left my mind as I hurried into the passage in search of Elizabeth.
    The Tudor Secret

Chapter Eight
    I thought I was too late, for she seemed to have vanished into the labyrinth of halls and galleries. My heels struck hollow echoes on the floors as I dashed down one corridor, paused, and turned into another. I was following my instinct, avoiding the line of sputtering sconces spaced unevenly on the walls, braving the darker twists and turns in the blind hope that she would not take so easy a route.
    I nearly sighed aloud when I finally came upon her, standing in an archway that led into an inner courtyard, bunching handfuls of her gown. She’d removed her filigree net; her hair coiled loose, like fire, over her taut shoulders. Hearing my approach before she saw me, she spun about. “Ash Kat, get word to Cecil at once. We must—”
    She stopped, staring. “By God, you are bold.” She looked past me. Panic colored her voice. “Where are my women? Where are Mistress Ashley and Mistress Stafford?”
    I bowed low. “I haven’t seen Mistress Ashley,” I said, using the tone I’d learned to wield when dealing with a volatile foal. “If by Mistress Stafford, you refer to your other lady, she didn’t follow you out. In fact, I saw her go in the opposite direction.”
    “She must have gone to ready my barge.” Elizabeth paused. Her eyes were unblinking, riveted on me as if she might truly divine my purpose under my skin. She abruptly gestured, moving on swift steps into the courtyard, where the shadows lay thick. Glancing back to the doorway, she said, “Why are you still following me?”
    My hand went to my doublet. “I’m afraid I still have my master’s orders to complete.”
    Her face hardened. “Then uncompleted those orders will remain. I believe I’ve suffered enough humiliation from the Dudleys for one night.” In the open air, her indignation echoed a decibel higher than it should. She looked translucent, almost wraithlike. She had come to court to see her brother, only to be disdained, informed in public that the king, no doubt by the duke’s command, had departed for Greenwich. Now here I was skulking after her, a nuisance determined to win favor at any cost. Disgust swept through me. What was I doing? Let Robert and his ring be damned! I’d concoct some excuse as to why I’d failed in my assignment. If I was beaten or dismissed, so be it. I was literate, able. With any luck, I wouldn’t starve.
    “Forgive me.” I bowed. “I did not intend to cause Your Grace any distress.”
    “I’m far more concerned by the distress the duke has caused me.” She fixed the full force of her eyes on me. “You’re their servant. Do you know what he plans?”
    I went still. Master Shelton’s words spilled in my mind: She’s poison. Poison to the core.
    Even as I considered it, I knew I wouldn’t turn away, wouldn’t evade or flee her question, even though it might end up costing me everything. I’d reached that inevitable crossroads that comes in every man’s