The year is 1464.
The War of the Roses rages on; a great showdown between Lancaster and York.
Yet, asleep in her bed, fiery-haired Melissa Woodville dreams of splintered shields, broken swords, and the resounding screams of wounded men in the Battle...
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AUGUST 29TH, 1469 — the Tower of London:
Dressed in naught but her chemise and a woolen overcoat, Queen Elizabeth Woodville hurried down the steps of the Tower of London, torch in hand. The man guarding her destination bowed briefly, before unlatching the little peephole in the door, allowing her to see her intended target: mad old King Henry, to whom she had owed her allegiance to prior to marrying her current husband, Edward of York.
Inside the enclosed chambers, another man — looking as though he would rather be anywhere but there — took the former king's undershirt off, leaving him naked in the firelight. He then proceeded to clean Henry, dabbing away at his skin with a wet sponge. For sure, it was a thankless task, but he nonetheless did his job, and Elizabeth watched on, grim and angry.
"There is no word?" Her mother approached from behind, wringing her fingers together.
The queen shook her head, "Anthony and Richie have ridden north to test support for Warwick, and they may just be captured and meet the same fate as John. And Melissa ... there is no news from her, either. Who knows what has happened by now? Warwick is a snake; would he really hesitate in putting her on the chopping block as well?"
Jacquetta's eyes closed.
"Please, Elizabeth, do not even say that! We must trust that Melissa knows what she is doing. She, perhaps, out of all of us, has the best relationship with George and Warwick."
"How can I help it? Mad King Henry is safe and in comfort, but what are they doing to Edward? To father? To my sister? She may be a duchess, mother, but let us not forget that she is a mere sixteen years old!"
"Melissa is far from stupid, Elizabeth." Jacquetta disagreed. "She will prevail; I am sure of it."
The baroness did not mention her visions, fleeting as they were. In their uncertainty, they would only serve to spook her eldest daughter, not reassure her.
