The cold stone walls of the Tower loomed around Anne. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the locket bearing Elizabeth’s face. Outside, the crowd gathered, hungry for blood. She lifted her chin, eyes defiant. “Let them watch,” she whispered. “They will not see a queen fall. They will see a woman rise.” The door creaked open. Footsteps approached. The final act had begun — or had it?
Comments
0No comments yet.