Lost in Time: A Visitor in the Tudor Court

The weight of the pouch lingered in Naomi's mind long after she had set it aside. The jewels were far too extravagant, the note too cryptic. She couldn't accept them. She wouldn't.

But first, she needed to know who had sent them.

Sitting among the stacks of parchment and scrolls in the steward's chamber, she worked silently, unrolling document after document. The handwriting in the note had been elegant, precise. Someone well-educated, Someone with influence.

Her fingers brushed against a scroll containing inventory records. She scrutinized the script. Not a match. She moved to another. Not even close. The flickering candlelight danced across the inked letters as she worked methodically, comparing strokes, loops, and the slant of the penmanship.

She was so focused that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

"You always look so serious when you're up to no good," came a deep, teasing voice.

Naomi startled, her heart lurching as she turned to find Charles Brandon leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a slow smirk curling his lips. His dark blue eyes glinted with amusement, but there was an unmistakable sharpness behind them.

"What are you doing, love?" His tone was casual, but the question was anything but.

Naomi scrambled for an excuse. "I-I was just reviewing records. The steward wanted some calculations checked."

Brandon arched a brow, stepping closer. "Mm. Is that so?" He glanced at the scrolls before her. "Odd. These don't look like accounts. They look more like..." He picked up a parchment and studied it. "Handwriting samples."

Her stomach twisted.

"You wouldn't happen to be searching for something-or someone-would you?" he asked, voice laced with knowing amusement.

"I-I just noticed an inconsistency," she said quickly, trying to feign nonchalance. "It's part of my work."

Brandon chuckled, shaking his head. "You are an absolutely terrible liar, Naomi."

Her lips parted, but before she could protest, the door burst open.

A courtier strode in, his expression grim. "Sir Charles. The spy has been caught."

The air in the room shifted.

Brandon's playful smirk vanished. His expression hardened into something sharper, more dangerous. "Where?"

"In the dungeon. His Majesty has requested your presence." The courtier hesitated before glancing at Naomi. "Her as well."

Naomi's breath hitched. "Me?"

"Yes. His Majesty wants you there."

She exchanged a glance with Brandon, whose smirk was back-this time colder. "Well, love," he said, extending a hand toward the door. "Shall we?"

The air was damp and heavy with the scent of blood and sweat. Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting jagged shadows across the room.

The spy-a wiry man with bruises marring his face-was bound to a chair. His clothes were torn, his breathing labored. Around him stood King Henry VIII, his advisors, and a handful of guards.

Naomi stood beside Brandon, suppressing the shiver that crawled down her spine. This was real. Too real.

Henry turned his piercing gaze on Brandon. "Make him talk."

Brandon rolled his shoulders, stepping forward. "With pleasure, Your Majesty."

Naomi watched as Brandon circled the spy like a predator, his voice smooth yet edged with menace. "You know how this ends," he murmured. "Speak, and you might leave here breathing."

The spy glared up at him but said nothing.

Brandon sighed. "Very well."

What followed was brutal.

Brandon worked with methodical precision, delivering pain in calculated doses. The spy groaned, his body writhing against the restraints, but he held firm.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

No answers.

Naomi turned her head, swallowing hard. She had seen enough.

"I need some air," she murmured, stepping back.

Henry's voice cut through the room. "Where are you going?"

She froze.

The King's gaze pinned her in place.

She had no choice. "To fetch the physician," she said, an idea already forming. "I know a way to make him talk."

Henry's eyes narrowed. "And what method would that be?"

Naomi took a steady breath. "Let me show you, Your Majesty."

When she returned, she held a small vial in her hand.

The King arched a brow. "What is that?"

Naomi uncorked the vial and poured its contents into a goblet of water, swirling it lightly. Then, without hesitation, she approached the spy.

"Drink," she commanded softly, pressing the goblet to his lips.

He hesitated but, dehydrated and desperate, he obeyed.

Silence stretched as they waited.

Five minutes passed. Then-

The spy's body sagged slightly. His pupils dilated, his breathing slowed, and his face slackened.

Naomi stepped forward. Without warning, she straddled him and slapped him-hard.

A sharp gasp echoed through the chamber.

Every man in the room, from Charles Brandon to King Henry himself, was utterly stunned.

Naomi gripped the spy's collar and lifted him slightly, her voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.

"What do you know?"

The spy shuddered. His lips trembled. And then-

He spoke.

The words tumbled from his mouth like a dam had broken. He confessed everything-the plot, the names, the meeting that had taken place in secret.

Naomi let him go, stepping back, her heart pounding. "There it is," she said, turning to face the King.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then-

Henry let out a deep, satisfied laugh. "Remarkable."

His eyes gleamed with something Naomi didn't quite understand. Amusement? Intrigue? Desire?

Beside him, Brandon stared at her, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than usual-but laced with fascination.

"Where," he asked slowly, "did you learn to do that?"

Naomi wiped her hands on her skirts, forcing a nonchalant shrug. "A woman must know how to survive."

Brandon's smirk returned, but this time, there was something darker beneath it. "Oh, love," he murmured. "You are full of secrets."

The King stepped closer, watching her with unnerving interest. "And I intend to uncover every single one."

Naomi felt the weight of their gazes on her, twin storms of power and intrigue.

She had just made herself indispensable.

And far more dangerous.