The Boleyn King Read Online Free PDF

importance.”
    “Perhaps. And perhaps it was something else.” He’d looked at her and smiled. “Perhaps it meant that we are all important. Even you and I.”
    And then Dominic had begun to tell her a story.
    Once there were four stars who shone very near one another in the skies over England. They danced and laughed and twinkled as stars do, until the time came for them to jump into the world and become human.The biggest, boldest star went first, promising to catch those who came after. The next star to go was the quietest, though she shone with the clearest light.The last two remained together for a time, until the day came for the brightest star to go on. He prepared to jump into this world, and hesitated. For the last star—she who was sweetest and merriest of them all—was weeping, her tears streaking in flashes of light across the sky.“Don’t leave me behind,” she begged.And so, though it was early for her yet, the brightest star enveloped her in his light and they jumped together.Pleading tiredness from travel, Dominic excused himself and left the stables pondering his reaction to William’s unexpectedly generous gift to Minuette. He wanted to believe his discomfort was because of what the court might say. But beneath that entirely practical reason, Dominic felt something less laudable: he could not help comparing the magnificence of the horse with the star pendant he’d left in Minuette’s room.
    As he came through the entrance into Clock Court, a page presented him with the message that Lord Rochford wished to see him at once. It was not a request. George Boleyn, Duke of Rochford, was not only Queen Anne’s brother but Lord Protector of England until William became king in fact as well as in name. Rochford was the most powerful man in England—and well he knew it.
    Dominic had never liked the duke much, though he’d spent his childhood as Rochford’s ward. It had been an honour accorded Dominic because of his blood—Boleyn by his mother, royal by his grandmother. But the year Dominic turned seven, his blood seemed likely to be his undoing. His paternal uncle, the Marquis of Exeter, committed treason and the estates that had made Exeter the largest landholder in England after the king were confiscated. The marquis himself went to the block, while his wife and twelve-year-old son were imprisoned.
    Dominic had known nothing of his own father’s subsequent arrest until Rochford had come to see him a month after Exeter’s death. Young as he’d been at the time, Dominic had never forgotten it. Rochford’s black stare could make grown men sweat, let alone a seven-year-old boy.
    Rochford had not troubled to be gentle. “Your father is dead. He died of a fever in the Tower.”
    Dominic had felt his lower lip tremble, but he’d met Rochford’s gaze unblinkingly as the duke continued. “It is fortunate for you, for nothing had yet been proven against him. Better the son of a possible traitor than the offspring of a proven one. But not much better. You would do well to remember that.”
    For a time Dominic’s future had hung in the balance, though he had not been aware then of how close he’d come to being sent away. But King Henry, ever unpredictable in his enthusiasms, had taken a liking to Dominic. Thanks to the old king, Dominic was placed in the Prince of Wales’s household and thus had begun his friendship with William. Rochford had not been pleased, and Dominic knew the duke had watched him closely ever since—presumably to ensure he was not another Exeter, just waiting to betray his king.
    Dominic’s spine straightened automatically as he approached Rochford in the long gallery outside the chapel. The Lord Protector was speaking rapidly to a clerk, no doubt giving orders related to one of the hundred projects in his control. He jerked his head in acknowledgment of Dominic’s presence but did not stop talking.
    Dominic wondered how Rochford would adjust to his diminished role when William