Chapter ElevenGreenwich Palace
Amethyst entered the king's inner chamber. He hadn't summoned her this time, but the guards let her through. His ushers and pages bowed to her, with the usual reverence, but with solemnity.
“Do you wish to sup with me, sire?” She approached him, sitting in his favorite velvet seat before the fire, reading a book. “Utopia” read the title on the spine. Who wrote that? she wondered. “Matthew sent some barrels of dry-salted beef and mutton from his neighboring farms along with his delicious apples.”
Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she chased away goosebumps in the damp, chilly chamber, for the fire was sputtering out but he hadn't bothered ordering his chamberlain to refuel it. He put the book down and faced the dying embers, deep in thought.
Not want
