The Seaward

But you’ll wake and you’ll fake your surprise when you see her grab that helm from your hands as she reclaims the seaward.

Boleyn

Laura Ashworth

Private, he granted me that but I cannot say that I am grateful as I prepare myself for death with my red dress sitting on my skin the blood of the fabric sticking to the sweat of fear and I am queen until the head chopped off will roll and I do not know where they will put my body after the breath, leaving and he can only love when love produces a child I had, dead, and it is my fault that the blood fell and did not, stay, inside he said, until the guard comes.