After that meeting with Marie, Lorenzo came to give his farewells to King Henry.
The audience was brief. Formal. Cold.
As Lorenzo bowed and turned to leave, Henry's voice cut through the chamber like a blade.
"Prince Lorenzo."She paused but didn't turn.
"A word of advice."The king's voice dripped with false concern. "Unmarked land is open to be conquered by others. A wise man stakes his claim... before someone else does."
The threat hung in the air, barely veiled, utterly clear.
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
She wanted to turn.
Wanted to tell him exactly what would happen if he touched Marie.
But she was a guest. A diplomat. A prince with no power here. So she said nothing. Just walked away, leaving Henry smirking at her retreating back.
The king watched her go, already tasting victory.
Then he called out lazily to his attendants. "Fetch Thomas Boleyn. And his brother."
---
Moments later, the Boleyn men approached, bowing low.
Thomas could barely contain his excitement. This was it, the moment he'd been positioning his family for. "You summoned us, Your Majesty?"
Henry paced a slow circle around them, hands clasped behind his back like a cat toying with cornered mice.
"You have ambitious children," the king said casually. "Anne is... promising. A delight. Quite the beauty."
Thomas puffed up like a peacock. "Your Majesty is most generous."
Gilbert stood straighter, scenting opportunity.
Philip's eyes gleamed with barely concealed eagerness.
Matthew, standing behind his father, straightened at the anticipation of what might come.
Henry continued, voice deceptively light, "I have been considering rewards. Power should go to those who demonstrate loyalty."
Thomas's eyes shone with hunger.
Henry turned to him fully, letting the silence build. "I will make Anne a duchess."
Gilbert nearly choked on air.
A *duchess*.
Not just a lady-in-waiting, but actual Nobility.
"And Philip,"the king added smoothly, "a permanent member of my court. A young man with such charm belongs at my side."
Philip's face broke into a broad, grateful grin. Finally. *Finally.*
"And young Matthew..." The king's smile sharpened. "I will see him rise. Captain of my royal guard, perhaps. A position worthy of his... zeal."
Matthew's chest swelled with pride. Captain. Him. After years of being overlooked, now he could stand as part to that Italian thief who was taking Marie from him.
Thomas was trembling, overwhelmed. "Your Majesty...this is...this is beyond what our humble family"
Henry raised one hand. The words died in Thomas's throat. "There is... one condition."
Silence fell like a coffin lid slamming shut. Thomas's mouth went dry. "Anything, sire."
Henry's smile turned wolfish. "Marry off Marie. Quickly. Quietly. To anyone suitable enough to keep the peace."
He paused, letting each word land like a stone. "And then... she will join me."
The words hung in the air. Not as wife. Not even as companion.
*Mistress.*
He didn't need to say it. They all understood.
Matthew went rigid, face draining of colour.
Philip's smugness flickered and died.
Thomas felt the room tilt, but ambition that, relentless, ravenous thing, kept him upright.
"Sire," Thomas stammered, hating how weak his voice sounded, "Marie is...she is still..." "A pretty thing," the king interrupted, voice dropping to something hungry and possessive.
"Untouched. Innocent. Sweet as summer fruit."His eyes gleamed. "And I want her."
He stepped closer, close enough that Thomas could smell wine. Close enough to see the absolute certainty in the king's eyes.
"Give me the girl," Henry whispered, "and I will raise your entire house to glory."
His voice dropped even lower. "Deny me... and watch everything you've built turn to ash. Your titles. Your lands. Your precious Anne's position." A cruel smile. "Everything."
The threat wasn't subtle. It was absolute. A king's whim dressed as generosity. Thomas's fists clenched so hard his nails bit into his palms. His mouth opened. Closed.
His mind raced, Marie's face, her trust, her innocence against everything he'd worked for, everything his family could become.
Gilbert leaned in close enough that only Thomas could hear. "Think of the family. Think of Anne. Of Philip. Of everything we could become." His grip on Thomas's shoulder tightened. "One daughter for an entire dynasty."
Matthew's voice cracked with something that might have been heartbreak.
"She's a means to power," Gilbert hissed, cold and pragmatic. "Nothing more. She'll be seventeen soon of age. Perfect timing."
Philip said nothing. Just looked away, jaw tight with guilt he would drown in wine by morning.
The king straightened, his smile broad and satisfied, already tasting victory.
"I will expect your answer by morning,"Henry said pleasantly, as if discussing the weather. "Though I believe we all know what it will be." He turned and swept from the room, leaving them standing there, shaken, breathless, trapped between ambition and whatever shreds of conscience they had left.
Thomas stared at the floor, feeling like he was falling.
Gilbert's hand remained on his shoulder, steadying him. Guiding him toward the only answer that made sense.
The only answer that preserved everything.
Matthew looked sick. Philip couldn't meet anyone's eyes. And somewhere in the estate, Marie slept peacefully, dreaming of winter-blue eyes and promises whispered in moonlight, unaware that her family had just decided to sell her to a king.
---
By dawn, Thomas had made his decision.
He'd spent the night pacing, drinking, trying to find another way. There wasn't one. There never had been. He found the king in his private chambers, attended only by a single servant.
"Your Majesty," Thomas said, voice hollow as a drum. "I accept your... generous offer." Henry's smile was triumphant. Predatory. "Wise man. You won't regret this."
*I already do,*
Thomas thought but didn't say.
"There is... one condition." Thomas said hesitantly
The king's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You presume to negotiate?"
Thomas swallowed but pressed on, knowing this was the only mercy he could offer his daughter. "I ..Iiiii...would nNNever, YOUR MAJESTY. The choice of husband must come naturally. From Marie's own acquaintances. I will place suitable men in her path, arrange circumstances for them to meet... but I will not force the choice upon her. She must believe it was her decision."
Let her have that, at least.
Let her think she chose.
Henry considered this, swirling wine in his goblet, watching the red liquid catch the light.
"Very well," he said finally. "As long as she's married and in my bed within the year, I care not how you manage it."
His smile turned cruel. "Though I suggest you work quickly. My patience has limits. And when I lose patience..." He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Thomas bowed, sealing the bargain that would break his daughter's heart. As he left the chamber, he told himself he was being merciful. At least Marie would have the illusion of choice.
At least she wouldn't know she'd been sold like cattle at market. At least she'd never know her father had traded her innocence carelessly for a duchess's coronet.