reasoning with her,” Jane said as they made their way to the throne room.
“Do you think it will do any good?” Gifford was pale, but she could see he was trying to be brave.
“I don’t know. Just let me do the talking. Everyone knows that Mary hates E∂ians.”
“She can’t tell just by looking at me, you know. It’s not like I have a tail hidden in my trousers.”
“Even so. Now would be a fantastic time to learn to control your gift.”
They reached the throne room, which was packed with soldiers and nobility alike. Her ladies-in-waiting were all there, a few looking faint on account of all the excitement, while others had their noses turned up like they’d never thought Jane made a good queen, anyway.
Her mother was there. She looked up as Jane and Gifford entered, but didn’t meet Jane’s eyes. A guard poked Jane in the ribs to get her moving toward the throne.
Where Mary waited.
Edward’s eldest sister reclined in the throne, Jane’s crown already gracing her brow. She wore a voluminous gown of crimson damask, with roses embroidered along the blue background of the hems. She looked regal, as though she’d known her whole life that this was what she was meant to do.
“Jane.” Mary’s tone was sweet as she leaned forward. “You haven’t been harmed?”
Jane stood before her own throne. She kept herself as straight and tall as possible and let her eyes sweep over the assembly near the throne: dukes, members of the Privy Council, and standing at the front, John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland.
“You,” Jane murmured. “Whose side are you on now?”
His only answer was a slippery smile.
“Jane.” A note of irritation snapped in Mary’s voice. “You haven’t been harmed?”
Jane turned her eyes back on Mary. “You’re sitting in my chair.”
A few people in the crowd gasped, but Mary only smiled. “Jane. Dear one. Surely you know that it was only through the plots of others that you managed to sit here at all. The throne was always meant to be mine until Edward”—her voice cracked at the late king’s name—“produced an heir. Unfortunately my brother never had that opportunity. He was taken from us too quickly. The law states that I am next in the line of succession.”
“Edward amended his will. It was his final act before he died.” Jane didn’t look at Lord Dudley again, but hadn’t that been exactly what he’d said? Now he was just standing there, accepting Mary as queen?
“I feel sorry for you, Jane.” Mary nodded to herself. “You were caught in this game without the smallest hint how to play it.”
“Edward left the throne to me.” Jane kept her voice soft but firm. “He revised the line of succession.”
“My brother was ill and persuaded to do nonsensical things by certain parties who had everything to gain.” Mary looked pointedly at Lord Dudley. “Those parties were given a choice—the same choice I’m going to give to you.”
“But the crown is not your right,” Jane said, in spite of feeling—just days before—that it wasn’t her right, either. Jane at least knew it, while Mary seemed to feel entitled to the throne.
“The Privy Council disagrees.”
The Privy Council had voted to give the crown to Mary? Jane prickled. How dare they turn on her? She could not believe it. After listening to them brag about themselves for hours on her first day as queen, she rather felt she’d earned their respect and loyalty.
“As I said,” Mary went on, “I want to be fair. I’m giving everyone a choice to bow to me.”
Gifford, who had been quiet all this time, suddenly leaned toward Jane until his mouth was against her ear. “I have to get out of here,” he said urgently. “It’s almost morning.”
He was right. She could sense the glow of dawn behind the windows. And Mary was not turning out to be very reasonable.
“Give us until tonight,” Jane pleaded. “We need time to consider—”
“There’s nothing to consider,” Mary said. “It’s a simple yes or no.”
Gifford shifted from foot to foot. “Jane—”
“I haven’t slept or eaten,” Jane argued. “Before I make such a decision, I need to rest. To think. Please, if we could just—”
It was too late. The first ray of sunshine breached the window. Next to Jane, another kind of light flared. There was the sound of clothing tearing and hooves clapping against the marble floor.
The crowd let out a collective gasp of horror. Guards rushed forward, swords in hand.