Read Secret History of Elizabeth Tudor, Vampire Slayer for Free Online Page B

good may it do you. Queen of a realm surrounded by enemies. The only question is, who will win the race to dethrone you?”
    That suggestion stings, coming as it does too close to the truth of my fears. But he is not yet done.
    “You are as stubborn as your mother.”
    “You knew her?”
    I speak before I can stop myself. Dozens, probably hundreds, of people are still alive who once knew my mother, to some degree at least. But only Kat has ever been willing to speak of her to me and then only reluctantly. For the rest, Anne Bolyen might never have existed.
    “I knew her very well,” he says, “but that is for another time. I want to show you something.”
    He reaches out a hand, and to my horror I move toward him. Not because I choose to do so; I do not. I slide across the frozen ground as though I have no control over myself. The lamp falls from my hand; vaguely, I am aware of it smashing on the ground. The thin fabric of my bed gown and robe press against my legs as I am mysteriously pulled toward him. The moonlight falling across the garden begins to whirl as though the whole world has gone mad. Horror fills me as I realize that I am helpless to stop him, perhaps at least in part because I do not wish to do so.
    Mordred’s arm closes hard around my waist. Breath rushes from me. I am engulfed in his touch and scent, his strength, and most alarmingly of all in the stunning sense of recognition that floods through me, as though I have been waiting, yearning for this moment, through unfathomable eons. Every nerve in my body is vividly alive. I feel him as I have never dreamt that it is possible to feel, as though the barriers between us are dissolving. A pulse leaps suddenly in my throat. I arch my neck and moan softly.
    “Elizabeth,” he murmurs with unconcealed satisfaction, then adds, “Hold on.”
    To my astonishment, we rise suddenly into the night sky. Terror and exaltation surge in me in equal measure as the ground falls away beneath me. I am ashamed to say that I cling to him as I feel against my breasts the deep rumble of his laughter.
    “Look at our city,” he says. “Exquisite, isn’t it? I have seen it in so many ages, so many guises, but never like this. It is about to burst free and become a true city of the world like old Rome or Byzantium. London is destined to be the capital of all the world.”
    I steel myself and peer down, only to be instantly entranced by the vision I behold: London, slumbering in moonlight beside the ancient river, steals my breath. I stare in fascination at the vista of the city spread out before me, from the spires of Westminster Abbey past dwellings noble and humble, over the great roads leading into and through the city, coming finally eastward to the Tower, standing sentinel over all. My beloved city and yet not—for laid so gently upon it, as though through a veil, I glimpse a sight I can scarcely credit, a city of vastly greater size and power in which alabaster buildings gleam and darkness itself seems banished.
    “See what is possible,” Mordred says seductively. “Think of the pride and courage that has made this land, the trials that have been endured, the tribulations over which we have triumphed. Think of what that can mean not just here but everywhere.”
    And I do, seeing before me a vision of honor, boldness, and, coming as the sun itself, a golden age that would transform the world.
    All drenched in blood.
    I stiffen against him, struggling to be free.
    “Don’t,” he warns, and tightens his hold. “If you fall from me, you will die.”
    No dream, then. No charmed phantasm of my disordered senses but cold reality instead. As much as my poor mind can barely encompass what is happening, I do truly soar over my island kingdom in the arms of the vampire king. It is beyond belief yet I must endure it all the same. Nor is he yet done. To my stunned eyes, the dark expanse of the channel preserving us from the chaos that is Europe appears and vanishes behind