The year is 1464.
The War of the Roses rages on; a great showdown between Lancaster and York.
Yet, asleep in her bed, fiery-haired Melissa Woodville dreams of splintered shields, broken swords, and the resounding screams of wounded men in the Battle...
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THREE DAYS AFTER meeting the king, life in Grafton had already become much more eventful. The Rivers family continued on with their daily lives, but there was tension lying beneath the surface; one that hadn't been there before.
Early that morning, sitting by the riverside where her mother wove spells, curses and destinies, Melissa Woodville stared out into the distance, her hand brushing over the cool steel of the Yorkist sword she had been gifted.
"I do not know what is to become of us, lady mother," she admitted, tapping into Melusina's spirit, who always lingered by the waterside, listening to the woes and troubles of her young descendants. "I do not know what to do. With this strife between Lancaster and York, with my sister's relationship with the king, with the battle at Bosworth..."
She sighed, her thumb brushing over the white rose of York on the hilt of her sword. "Just give me an answer, a clue. Tell me what to do, lady mother."
There was silence, except for the slow flow of nature, the rush of the river and the chirruping of birds. No answer was forthcoming, as was typical with Melusina. Melissa knew she would have to wait before her ancestor answered her plea; it could never be as easy as the breath of a wind or the fall of a leaf. Magic was much more complicated than that; that, she was very aware of.
Placing the sword down on her lap, the redheaded Woodville girl reached into the fold of her cloak and pulled out the brass key that she had retrieved from the very river.
"A key," she murmured. "But what does it stand for?"
It was a conundrum. Unlike Elizabeth's token, which had been fairly straightforward — a ring-sized crown ("I wonder what that means," Melissa couldn't help but think to herself sarcastically) — hers was the epitome of confusing. An old, brass key. It looked to be the miniature of something, with faded little inscriptions carved into it, but they were too tiny to decipher. Melissa had tried looking in their library, even consulted the priest at St. Mary's Church near the manor, but no one could tell her what it meant.
