“I have witnessed the process,” Brandon says. “It is extreme.”
There’s the sound of uneven footsteps: Henry’s, Cecilia assumes, since he is the only one with a limp.
“My friend, are you strong enough?” he asks someone.
“If the Highfather wills it, my body will withstand,” More replies eventually.
Brandon makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, as Cromwell says, “Very well. Shall we begin tonight?”
“No,” Henry says, his voice thick. “Let the bishop rest. You can begin at first light.”
“You will not watch?” Cromwell says.
“No,” Henry says. “You understand, dear friend?”
“Perfectly, Your Majesty,” More replies. Cecilia stifles a sob, though she does not know why.
She presses into the shadows as Henry strides out of the sanctuary. She will wait until More is alone and then plead with him not to go through with whatever terrible experiment Cromwell is inflicting upon him. No one is worth such pain, not even the king of Elben. Not even a god. But Cromwell, that crow of foresight, says, “I will accompany you to your rooms, my lord, and have my men stand guard to ensure you sleep well. We must see that you have strength enough for what is to come. I would hate to see you brought low in the pursuit of such good work for our king and country.”
“That is unnecessary, I assure you.”
“Nevertheless, we cannot be too cautious. I know you have many supplicants, and I would not want them to wake you before it is time.”
It’s a lie. More does have supplicants, but none who would plead with him so early. Cecilia edges closer to the open door, debating whether to simply erupt into the room and drag More to safety herself. If she had been in Perfugi still, in her own place of power, she would have done. But High Hall is different. Something about this place has made Cecilia Tudor uncertain. By the time she has convinced herself to do it, Cromwell and More have left out of the other entrance, taking the quickest route to More’s rooms.
Brandon comes to her.
“Do you have your answers now?”
“You piece of shit,” she hisses, pushing him because she cannot punish herself. He catches her arms and pins them to her sides. “What if he dies?” she says.
“Then he ascends.”
She spits at him. Still, he holds her arms. She stands on tiptoes and bites his cheek, leaving deep crescents in the flesh around his beard. Brandon growls. She wants him to backhand her, so she will have an excuse to push her nails into his eyes. But when he speaks, his whisper is gentle.
“What is more important to you? That queendom your brother promised you, or the well-being of an old man who does not value his mortal body? Think, Cecilia. Put these ridiculous emotions aside and think.”
She still struggles in his grasp, but the weight of his words is heavy and dangerous and calming.
She stifles a sob against his chest.
“He is the only one I truly care about,” she whispers into the fabric.
“I know. That is why I wanted you to hear him. He’s doing this for you as well. He wants you to have your queendom.”
She looks up at him and swallows the lie, relishing its sweetness even though she knows it is rotten. What would she even do anyway? She could never persuade More to anything, just as he could never persuade her.
“Take me to my rooms,” she says. He picks her up, cradling her against his chest as he marches down to the fourth level. Perhaps there is something to be said for the strength and confidence of older men.
Inside her chamber, he lays her on her bed. Her robe falls open, revealing her shift, and before he can move away she grabs his hair and pushes his head between her legs. He makes a sound of surprise but attends to her obediently. She maintains her grip on his hair, as she used to do with Florin, and squeezes whenever the thought of what might happen to More intrudes upon her pleasure.
She has him attend to her until she falls asleep, sated. She never sees More alive again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Cleves
It takes three days, avoiding the scrind road, to reach the borders of Mathmas and the island’s central estates. Parr’s household rests at one of her noble’s estates to make the final preparations for their entrance to the Moon Ball. Parr, Cleves and Seymour, however, ride at dawn on the fifth day of the seventh moon for the Sanctuary of the Blessed Litavis.
