My Lady Jane(69)

Maybe Gifford wasn’t safe to think about right now.

Jane shifted her thoughts to Edward, wondering if he’d felt this deep unease in the face of his own death. Anxiety. Trepidation. Horror.

She tried to conjure up more synonyms, but a dim, orange light flickered beneath the door. Footfalls echoed on the steps, and a moment later the door creaked open.

Firelight shone in, blinding her. She squeaked and buried her face in the hollow of her arms and knees. Then, squinting, she looked up.

“Jane?” Lady Frances rushed in, holding a torch, which she quickly set into a holder on the wall. “The guards let me in. We have a few minutes at best. I came to ask you to reconsider Mary’s offer.” She knelt in front of Jane, her expression almost maternal in its concern. “I wanted you to know I’m sorry I wasn’t more . . . supportive back there. Please forgive me.”

Jane stared at her mother. She’d never heard an apology from Lady Frances’s lips before, and she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “The throne changed hands very quickly, didn’t it? No one resisted.”

Lady Frances bowed her head. “The Privy Council turned on you. Dudley betrayed us as well. The moment Mary arrived, he declared his allegiance to her—even though it means he’s not the Lord President anymore—and his loathing of E?ians. He declared himself a Verity. He made it sound like all along he was actually clearing a path for Mary to take power. But forget about Dudley for now. This is about you. Take Mary’s offer. It’s not too late. A life in exile is better than this.”

“No.”

“Jane, this is no time to display your stubbornness.”

“It’s not stubbornness. It’s a matter of honor. I will not denounce Gifford or E?ians—you included, Mother.” Jane coughed at the dryness in her throat.

Lady Frances’ eyes flickered toward the door, like she was afraid someone would overhear. “Ungrateful girl. You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m no E?ian.”

“I know you are. I heard you and Father discussing it years ago.”

Her mother shook her head like she might deny it, but then she sighed. “And I hate it,” she whispered. “I never change, not if I can help it. I push that part of me down until it’s buried. It’s unnatural.”

“And yet it’s part of you,” Jane implored her. “In one of my books about E?ians, the author said that long ago, in ancient times, all people were able to change into an animal form. Everyone was E?ian. It was considered their true nature. It was considered divine.”

“Nonsense.” Her mother’s expression grew cold. “All those books fill your head with such drivel. I should have burned them all, and then maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Jane closed her eyes for a moment. Then she pushed her stiff muscles until she was able to stand up. “Do not ask me to forsake E?ians again, Mother. You will not change my mind.”

There were voices in the hall. Lady Frances glanced over her shoulder toward the door.

“Our time is almost up,” Jane said. “I suppose we should say good-bye now.”

“Please, Jane.” Her mother grabbed her arm. “You don’t have to die. It will bring ruin on the family. On me. I’ll lose Bradgate. I’ll lose everything.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help that,” Jane replied, and she meant it. She, too, loved Bradgate, but it wasn’t worth her honor. “Do you know where Gifford is being held?”

“They took him to Beauchamp Tower after night fell. That’s all I know.”

“I want to see him. Can you ask for me?”

Lady Grey shook her head. “The only way to see him will be to denounce him, and then you would only see him burn.”

The guards arrived. They escorted Lady Frances from the room, without another word between them, and Jane was alone again.

Her prison seemed to shrink around her. The despair she’d known earlier became a drop to an ocean. One star to the entire universe. Her mother had abandoned her, no matter what she claimed. There was only one person left in the world to think about, and that was Gifford, locked away in Beauchamp Tower, so close to the Queen’s House, but it might as well have been the other side of the world.

Jane sank to the floor again, drowning in grief and misery and wretchedness and despondency and . . .

A brilliant white light flared about her, making her blink back stars.

When she could see again, everything was different. The room was bigger, for one, and she felt . . . funny. Shorter, which was saying something, but oddly long. Her spine felt strange and hunchy, and she was on all fours. And her sense of smell! There was something sour—unbathed human, probably—and musky.

The sound of voices below, the feel of the stone floor under her paws—it was incredible.

She’d changed into . . . something.

She was an E?ian.

She was an E?ian!

Jane hopped around the room in a crazy little dance, thrashing her head from side to side so hard she bashed into a wall. Unfazed, she made a soft clucky sound and danced again, an overpowering sense of joy filling her. She was an E?ian, just as she’d always hoped. What was she? It didn’t matter. She was small and furry (she could easily twist herself around to see her body, but it was hard to get an idea of a whole based on just a few too-close views) and she had the best sense of smell and the best sense of hearing and the best dancing skills she’d ever possessed in her life, even if dancing sometimes meant she ran into walls. Wouldn’t Gifford be so amused when he saw her?