Pray for Reign (an Anne Boleyn novel) Read Online Free PDF

his horse with skill, tilted with ease. Anne watched as
the horses rode hard toward each other, and in an instant swerved away by just
inches. Grand Dieu , but he was good. Anne peeked at Catherine who sat
stiffly in her seat.
    "How lucky Catherine is to have such a man for husband;
kind, attractive, athletic." A large cheer went up from the crowd even as
she spoke, followed by an equally loud hiss as Henry took a heavy blow.
    "Yet she seems to care not," Anne continued.
    Mary, who’d been busy craning her neck toward the field,
followed her gaze.
    "It’s her way. She’ll no more show an emotion on her
face than she’ll refuse to give alms. She's older than Henry, and more settled.
Besides, she has the added burden of trying to provide the country with its
heir."
    "I suppose there’s truth in that; I hear she’s lost too
many babies to keep her youth. She looks positively ancient next to Queen
Claude."
    Mary shrugged, obviously uninterested, then leaned in
conspiratorially. "Yes, yes. Enough about Catherine. Let’s speak of the
King."
    "The King?" Anne grew suspicious. "Which
one?"
    Mary pouted, her pretty, winning pout that always meant
sarcasm. "Henry, you fool. Do you think I’d choose to discuss Francois?
That beast."
    Anne grinned her answer, biting her lip to keep control of
her sarcasm. She knew Mary could speak of Francois far more intimately than any
woman in England could.
    "Is he not handsome?" Mary grimaced as Henry’s
opponent fell from his horse.
    "I suppose." Anne agreed. "But rather like a
peacock. Why, he barely looks ruffled, even after his challenges. I can say
naught as much for the Breton." She rose when she saw the Queens step down
from their seats. Her skirt snared on a splinter of wood and she pulled at it
crossly.
    "Shouldn't your concern be for our King?" Mary
arranged her skirts and stepped from the platform onto dry sun-baked dirt.
    " Pourquoi ?" Anne's eyebrows rose in
pretended bewilderment. "Yours left the field untouched."
    "Because you're English, Anne. You should at least have
cheered him on." Mary held out her hand to help support Anne's descent.
The skirts really could be tricky to maneuver without getting them stained with
mud and dung.
    "He didn't need it—it was obvious from the beginning
that our side needed all the sympathy."
    "There you go again. 'Our side', is English, not
French."
    "English, French... We're all the same in God's eyes.
But if I choose to consider myself French, I shall."
    "I won't argue with you. You always get your way."
    Anne, her hopes blown of a promising debate, opted for an
alternative topic.
    "About Henry, Mary..."
    "Oh, yes, I was about to tell you something." Mary
lowered her voice as they left the field, walking arm in arm through the
quickly dispersing crowd who seemed bent on hurrying to the wine-filled
fountains. Anne suspected it would be more of how handsome Henry was, so
allowed her attention to wander. She regretted it almost instantly when she
caught the gist of what Mary was saying.
    "I beg your leave?" she asked, thinking she’d
better hear it again to be sure.
    "Henry and I... we've been... well..." Mary's
voice, even lower than the whisper Anne had nearly missed, revealed nothing,
but alluded to something Mary felt no embarrassment over, and which
uncharacteristically displayed discretion by its low tones. That meant just one
thing to Anne.
    "Are you saying that you are Henry’s mistress?"
She lowered her voice to a hoarse bark. The effort scratched her throat and
made her cough.
    Mary nodded, smiling. "Yes." Her abrupt giggle
reminded Anne of a young girl. "For about a month now."
    She pressed her lips close to Anne’s ear and her whisper was
so hoarse with excitement, Anne almost pulled away. "There’s a secret
passage between the temporary lodgings and the castle of Guisnes so he may take
his reprieve of the festival—and gain some privacy."
    "And you... use it?"
    Mary’s bawdy smack and lifted brow gave Anne her answer.
With a