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“The queen will have my hide when she discovers that the man died before revealing his secrets, but I no longer care. Like most humans, Elizabeth finds it easy to turn a blind eye when it suits her,” he said. “Who was he?” “A witch,” Seven said flatly. “His neighbors reported him for having a poppet with red hair. They feared that it was an image of the queen. And the queen feared that the behavior of the Scottish witches, Agnes Sampson and John Fian, was encouraging English witches to act against her. No, Diana.” Seven gestured for me to stay where I was when I stepped forward to comfort him. “That’s as close as you will ever be to the Tower and what happens there. Go to the parlor. I’ll join you shortly.” It was difficult to leave him, but honoring his request was all I could do for h
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