Read Online Between Two Kings by Olivia Longueville - Free Book Online

fair complexion. Jane was so serene, so demure, so pliable, and so dear in her light blue gown with silver embroidery on the tight bodice. He liked to hear her voice that was like a silver bell, porcelain and refreshing. She was able to awake in Henry a deep tenderness and a desire to defend her and keep her safe, whereas his aversion and hatred for Anne Boleyn were only growing with every day passing.
    “Jane, I have won only because you were here, so close to me. Your attendance was a good omen for this match with Charles,” King Henry said, looking at her face.
    Jane smiled with a modest, almost chaste smile. “Congratulations on your great victory, Your Majesty. It was a splendid game today,” she murmured humbly.
    Henry kissed her hand again. “My sweetheart, your presence is always like a true blessing for me. You once saved my life when you gave me that small silver strap of cloth before the jousting incident during the tournament. When I was thrown from the horse and hit the ground, the last thing I remembered was your face. As I opened my eyes and realized that I had been on the verge of death, I knew that only your favors, which I wore on the joust, saved me from the grave.”
    “Your Majesty is very kind to me,” Jane responded, with her eyes locked on the ground.
    Edward and Thomas Seymour were watching the king and Jane, their lips curved in smug smiles, happy with the results of their plan to make Jane the beloved jewel of the king’s heart. Their faces then turned bitter as they saw Thomas Cromwell approaching the group. Cromwell bestowed on them an insipid smile and walked forward, away from them, to the king.
    Cromwell stopped and bowed to the king. “My most humble pardon, Your Majesty, for disturbing you from your games,” he began.
    Henry raised his brows in expectation. “What is it, Master Cromwell?”
    Cromwell sighed. “I bring fresh news about Lady Anne Boleyn to you,” he said.
    Henry’s eyes darkened; his body was all in a tremble as black fury slashed through him. He kissed Jane’s hand and excused himself, signaling Cromwell to follow him. Henry and Cromwell quickly left the gaming court and, without any other words, marched down the hallway of the palace right to the presence chamber.
    As they finally reached the destination and entered the room, Henry stood rooted in the center of the room, his gaze piercing Cromwell. For some time, they only looked at each other, Henry in anticipation and Cromwell trying to guess how to tell the king about the event. Both of them knew what Cromwell had come to the king. Henry silently wondered how Anne Boleyn was doing and whether she was still pregnant.
    King Henry held Cromwell’s gaze for a long, long time. Then he glanced away. “What are you going to tell me about the harlot, Master Cromwell?” he asked in irritation. In the past months, he’d had terrible mood swings and sudden rage outbursts.
    “Lady Anne gave birth to a son yesterday,” Cromwell said in an inert, emotionless voice.
    A sullen, deadening silence followed. Only their breathing breached the quiet in the room.
    King Henry sighed heavily. He was numb and speechless. He turned around and came to the window, staring outside, at the naked crowns of the trees. Although his mind was tired, his brain was working very hard. Why did Anne give birth to a son now? Why hadn’t it happened earlier? Then he swiftly put those thoughts aside as he recalled how Anne had betrayed him with all the executed men. That newborn child wasn’t his; it was the bastard child of two traitors, probably even fathered by George Boleyn.
    Henry prohibited himself remembering anything else about Anne. Yet, it was an unusual, uncomfortable feeling for him that at last Anne had given birth to a son, but the boy wasn’t his child. For whatever reason, it was beyond anger and beyond pain to think that Anne had had a child with another man. He persuaded himself that he had all those feelings because Anne