Featured Excerpts

Arrival at Middleham

At the mention of the hated French Queen, Richard himself flinched. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering his mother’s comforting words only days ago. He reminded himself he was here to train to be a knight and there was no place for childish fears. Taking a steadying breath, he reached out, resting a hand on Anne’s arm with a calm assurance he did not really feel, and gently guided her aside.

Anne looked at him earnestly, her sobs quieting.

“I can promise you, there is no longer any need to fear,” Richard said softly.

Anne looked up at him, her trust evident. Richard’s words softened her tears, and she nodded, taking his words to heart.

A New Queen

Edward looked out over the assembled nobles with obvious pride. “My lords, ladies,” he announced, his voice dropping as if in awe. “I present to you the most beautiful queen ever to grace a throne: my wife, Elizabeth.”

George rolled his eyes as he stole a sideways glance at Warwick, whose jaw tightened while he fought to retain the smooth veneer of diplomacy. The king was unabashedly smitten, his voice nauseatingly adoring of his wife. Particularly unseemly in a king.

Queen Elizabeth regarded the assemblage. Her smile remained fixed in place, her eyes skimming over the finely dressed nobles with a distinct superiority. Warwick was infuriated that, merely weeks ago, this woman had been a virtual commoner and now sat beside the king of England, regarding the highest in the land as though they were beneath her.

To Rescue a King

With deft confidence, Richard guided his mount up the castle steps. He then continued on through the main doors and into the Great Hall itself. Hooves clattered on the flagstones, then Richard wheeled and reared his horse. The nobles had dismounted and followed him inside, spreading around the hall, their presence filling the chamber, a passive message that they were there to reclaim their king peacefully.

Richard raised his chin defiantly as he looked up to the astonished group at the top of the stairs.

Edward allowed himself a smile, his eyes meeting his brother’s in gratitude. Edward admired Richard’s steadfast presence, his poise and challenging stance.

“Darned if I know why people think my little brother is irrelevant.”

Uneasy Bedfellows

George spun around. “Whose marriage?”

“Whose marriage?” Isobel echoed.

Warwick looked at his youngest, beaming.

As every head in the room turned to face Anne, her heart sank with horror.

“You will marry Prince Edouard,” her father confirmed, the two words sounding nothing less than a death sentence.

The words hung in the air like a death knell. Anne staggered back, shaking her head in disbelief.

Warwick’s gaze was steady, unyielding. “It’s decided,” he said, his tone cold.

Before Battle of Tewkesbury

But it was Anne’s face that steadied him, her memory a lifeline in the storm. Her laughter, soft and melodic, came to him as vividly as if she stood beside him. Her smile, the crinkle of her eyes when she teased him—these were etched into his soul, giving him a reason to press forward. She was his anchor, his purpose.

He lingered a moment longer, his gaze fixed on the distant abbey, before turning back towards the camp. Fires flickered low, their embers casting warm, golden light over the soldiers seated around them. Some sharpened swords or axes with deliberate focus, the rhythmic scrape of metal on whetstone cutting through the quiet. Others murmured prayers, their voices blending with the faint crackle of the flames.

Tewkesbury Abbey

Anne’s eyes teared up, and she met the king’s kind gaze with a look of wonder, hardly believing this could be true. Edward gave her a nod, pointing towards the door, where Richard stood with a smile on his face.

Anne’s legs almost gave way, staring at the man she had dreamed of for so long. He was here, in this abbey with her, so close she could walk over and touch him.

Her breath caught as tears welled in her eyes, filling her with an overwhelming surge of emotion.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Edward said, breaking their trance.

Sanctuary

Richard stepped back. “Break it down.”

His men began banging their sturdy bodies against the wooden frame, and after a few attempts, the wood splintered. The door crashed open.

The dust cleared.

Anne’s eyes were squeezed shut in fear of what fate waited for her behind the banging and crashing on the locked door, but when she opened them, Richard stood before her. She gasped, rushing into his arms with loud shuddering sobs.

As he wrapped his arms around her small frame, Richard felt he could finally breathe. He folded his arms around her, holding her against his chest, so tight, as if he would never let her go.

Anne couldn’t speak. Sobs wracked her slender frame. She buried her face deeper into Richard’s chest, clutching at the fabric of his cloak.