“I am king, Anne.” He said, his face and hand becoming aggressive as he pounds the card table, sending all of the cards flying. I hurry to rescue them, but the one that I pick up first is a crowned queen. The king card has fallen to the floor. But I do not have time to muse upon this as he continues to rage.
“And I will require all of my subjects to sign and swear the oath of succession, acknowledging you as queen and Edward as Prince of Wales. First it will be Edward. Then Elizabeth. Then Henry Fitzroy. Mary will not be in the line of succession.” Henry says.
“And what about my next child?” I say, patting my belly as I rise, saving the cards from his wrath.
“That remains to be seen, Anne.” Henry says. And with that, he turns on his heel and abruptly leaves. I am left with scattered cards. Other than the two I saved, I call for my ladies to pick up the rest. I do not tell them what happened, other than it was an accident. But in spite of my disdain for superstition, I wonder at the crowned queen of hearts.
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