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A knock sounds on the door, and King Henry’s features tighten.
“Who dares to interrupt?” he snarls.
The door creaks open, followed by hurried footsteps and the sound of knees hitting a stone floor.
“Begging your pardon, Sire,” says a desperate voice from beyond the bed curtains. “A messenger from King Louis is at the door, ordering you to return his wife upon threat of war.”
“What?” King Henry roars.
“I’m afraid it’s true,” the man says in a much smaller voice.
King Henry turns to me, his eyes hard. “Hasn’t King Louis taken enough from you? First your honor as his wife, then your daughters. Now, he wishes you to remain a spinster so they will inherit your lands.”
I give him a weak nod and remember that Elenor of Aquitaine was a powerful woman in her own right. As the Duchess of Aquitaine, she owned a significant chunk of France.
“Stay where you are.” The king places a hand on my shoulder and gives me a firm squeeze. “I will send King Louis a message he will never forget.”
Before I can muster up a reply, he slides out of the bed and disappears behind the curtains. Multiple footsteps rush inside, and I hear the sound of splashing water.
I crawl to the end of the mattress, peek through a chink in the drapes, to find a small army of servants dressing King Henry in a long, purple robe with a red cloak.
“Damn,” I whisper. “Who knew their marriage caused such controversy?”
After they place a small crown on his head, King Henry strides out of the room with his entourage.
I’m about to fall back on the bed when a woman slips inside wearing a floor-length green gown, her hair covered in a white headdress. The long sleeves and elaborate belt resting on her hips tell me that she is no servant.
“Your Majesty?” she ask.
I poke my head out from between the curtains. “Hello?”
“Thank the goddess.” She places a hand over her chest and exhales. “I see the love enchantment I placed on you is waning.”
My eyes widen.
“Wait—what did you just say?”
She bustles around the side of the bed and parts the curtains. Up close, she has unlined skin, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes that says she’s far older than she appears.
The woman climbs up on the bed, reaches beneath her cloak, and extracts a black velvet sack that stinks of lavender.
“We don’t have time.” She glances over her shoulder as though she’s expecting King Henry to return. “Lie back. Now that you’re full of his seed, I’ll be able to make the enchantment permanent.”
“Are you a witch?”
She purses her lips. “Have you changed your mind?” Her gaze rakes down my body. “Forgive my forwardness, but once the magic fades and your nineteen-year-old husband sees that the wife he married is in her thirties…”
The woman falls silent, leaving me to fill in the gaps. I vaguely knew Eleanor of Aquitaine was older than her second husband, but I never dwelled on the age difference.
Footsteps approach, and the woman stiffens. She leans forward and whispers, “As an experienced midwife, let me remind you that women your age are usually barren or die in childbirth.”
My breath quickens. Even though I’m only twenty-one and have had the best possible healthcare, part of me wonders if I’ll have to spend the rest of my days as a long-dead English queen.
“If you don’t want another annulment, you’ll lie back and let me help you conceive a son.” She reaches into her cloak and extracts a velvet sac that clinks with the gentle thuds of stones.
“Could you help me?” I ask. “I’ve come from another time.”
She purses her lips. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into such a powerful spell. Now, you’re affected by your husband’s delirium.”
