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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MELISSA WAS OVERSEEING the organization to her new chambers when the summons from Duchess Cecily came. Bidding her ladies to put the final touches on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, she made her way to the older woman's receiving room, wondering what she could possibly want.
Upon entering, the first thing she noticed was that the king's mother was bereft of her usual cumbersome headdress. Instead, she wore a far lighter coronet, her dark hair braided away from her face with silver netting. She was standing behind a sizable oak desk, which had various papers, letters and missives scattered across it, a thoughtful look on her face.
"Come forward, child." The duchess beckoned her son's redheaded inamorata. "We have much to discuss."
"Duchess," Melissa curtsied, doing as she was told.
"Has that sister of yours told you anything about a queen's duties?"
The Woodville girl did not need to ask which sister the duchess meant, for it was quite clear by her disdainful tone.
"No, madame. She has not."
"Just as well, for I do not believe she does anything significant in this court, other than prance around on my son's arm." Cecily scoffed, before palming at a letter and picking it up. "There is much more to queenship than that, my dear. You surely expected that?"
"I had," Melissa began carefully. "However, I do not think to comprehend the true responsibilities my sister should be undertaking."
"Should be," the dowager duchess agreed. "Should be, but is not. And for that very reason, the job is left to the other women in Edward's inner circle, including his sisters and myself. One day, I should hope to include George's wife in the management of this court, and Richard's as well. Which brings us to why you are here."
