Two Tudor Thieves

Anna of Cleves

Anna smiled at the young waitress, she was incredibly pretty with her pink and brown hair and intelligent eyes. Though Anna couldn't help noticing how she looked a little distressed like she was uncomfortable.

The two soldiers took a seat at a table near a window, where they could watch the town slowly wake up, "That waitress is pretty." Anna said, craning her neck to see where the girl had gone.

"She looks young." Cath frowned, "Ninteen maybe?"

"I'm only twenty-one." Anna focused back on her companion, "Not that far off."

Before Cath could respond the waitress came back, "Okay," She gave them a warm smile but Anna could see that it wasn't genuine, "What can I get for you?"

"Two pints."

The girl nodded and walked over to the bar where Anna could see her pour the drinks.

"Jeez," Cath laughed a little, "Goggle much?"

Anna quickly averted her gaze, "Hey, she's cute. But something's up."

"Yeah..." Cath studied the girl, and Anna focused on the way she held her arm like it had been hurt, and how one of her cheeks was red like she had been slapped.

"Do you think we should ask if she's okay?" Anna looked at Cath, genuinely not knowing what they should do.

"If she really is hurt it could just be nothing." Cath frowned, "and if it is something then I doubt she will tell us."

The girl walked over and placed down two glasses, "Here you go." She forced a smile.

"Hey," Anna looked a Cath before continuing, "Are you okay? You look a little hurt."

The girl's eyes widened and Anna saw a hint of fear flash across her face, "No!" She said this a little too quickly, "No, I'm fine."

Cath and Anna exchanged a glance, "Are you sure?" Cath inquired.

"I'm fine." The girl quickly walked away, hiding from view as she rounded a corner to a part of the pub Anna couldn't see from where they were sitting.

Anna frowned, "I don't think she's okay."

-

Now, dear reader, you might be wondering what Anna will do to help Kitty, but that's not what's important right now. What's important is what's going on a few feet away. A hooded figure sits just below the stairs, hidden, out of sight. If anyone would pass by, unless they were looking, wouldn't even know someone was there.

This person holds a quill in one hand and has a book balanced on their knee. The quill they hold has a golden tip and body, the feather a dark blue. The book is blank, its pages longing to be filled. The cover was a blue that matched the quill, with golden embroideries etched into the leather.

The quill scratches silently at the parchment with the person's hand to quid it. The letters scrawl onto the page, clean and bold, without a blemish in sight. The quill wrote, though there was no ink, and the paper seemed to hold such an unearthly power, that you could sense it from across the room.

Now, you may be wondering who this person is and why they are of such importance that I would take the time to describe them to you. And the answer, dear reader, is one you will have to find out yourself. I could just tell you who they are, I could do it right now in this paragraph, but where is the fun in that? A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting.

So reader, who this person is, is a question you will have to answer yourself. Look for clues, look for phrases. Why would I, the author, create such a character? After all, there must be a reason, right?

As we find out more and more about this character you will find yourself questioning me, and what I have intended for them and the queens. But please, do not lose all faith, I know what I am doing.