Before Anne Boyeln, there was another. This is her story.
Scarlett, an orphaned, seventeen-year-old girl grew up on England's monarchy, tending the stables. Scarlett's gift of beauty soon becomes a curse as she catches the eye of the most powerful...
This new accommodation, or room I should say, consisted of a double bed in the centre of the room that rested dark sheets, covered in the elaborate embroidery of a shady violet, matching the dark chocolate dresser marvellously. On the side tables against the bed stood two lilac candles. The windows were printed gold glass, producing an auburn glow that complemented the room. Inside the drawer was nothing but matches and a Bible; I'm afraid not even God can save me now.
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Though this room was decorated with ornate fixtures, it could not disguise the veracity of what it truly was; a prison cell. Nevertheless, this room was a definite upgrade from my last lodging that consisted of six petite, chipped-wooden bed frames and five other orphaned slaves.
I moved over to the window within ten foot-steps and peered at what would be my view; the stables. I then continued my search towards the dresser. As I grasped the floral designed handles, I exposed my eyes to six new gowns; deep green, violet and inky blue, all with matching ribbon and undercoats. What was the point of dressing me up like a porcelain doll? It would not change the way the kingdom saw me - as the King's mendicant mistress.
I returned to the window, trying to force it open. It would not budge, it wasn't meant to. I collapsed down onto the rigid, taciturn ground, wiping my tears with the bottom of my pale-white attire. Whilst being confronted by the realisation of this modern perdition, I was interrupted by a tall man.
As our eyes met, he bowed his head. "Good day." He whispered, before heading out.
"Wait." He stopped in his footsteps. He turned to face me, his eyes permanently cemented to the ground.
"Yes, my lady." His undulating, brown, shoulder length hair swayed across his forehead. His clothes painted in the palette of chestnut almonds.
I don't really know why I called him back, but his emerald eyes uplifted my crumbling soul for that slight moment...I didn't want to let him go. "Umm, could you please help me up, I seem to have tripped over the rug?" I forged a smile.
"Of course." He hurried over and lifted me from my elbows. Being in his embrace for that limited amount of time made my cheeks turn crimson. He held me for about three seconds too long. "The King sent me to ensure you were settling in. If you need anything, just consult the guards in the halls, or your chambermaid Maria. Good day." The clearing of his throat broke the obstinate silence, followed by his dawdling exit.
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"I have seen you before?" I called out to him. "Do you remember me; I worked down in the stables." I probed this fine young man.
The man's bottle-green eyes studied my face; his brows creased in disbelief. "Scarlett?" His husky tone gently rolled my name around his tongue, intriguing me more of his presence.
"How do you know my name?"
"I asked one of the younger boys you were working with, Elliot I believe it was." He fathomed, stroking his thumb against his slight stubbled jaw.
"Yes, Elliot." He was one of the younger orphans, only eight. He was like a younger brother to me, one I was never fortunate enough to meet. "May I ask your name?"
A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "My name is Tyson, my lady."
"Pleased to meet you, Tyson." I smiled, curtsying. I suddenly felt self-conscious about my current attire.
"And you, dear Scarlett." He alleged as his desirable lips softly placed a kiss on my hand. He bowed as his jade eyes once again peered deep past my soul.
