I was only two when my father, the king, executed my mother, Anne Boleyn. People say she was a witch who stole his heart with her dark enchantments, but I can remember nothing of her. Yet still the malicious rumours of others haunt me. Now the gossips are saying vile things that threaten me. I am being held captive in my own palace until I admit that their lies are true. I try not to show I'm afraid, but if I cannot prove that I am innocent, I will be condemned to die... Like mother, like daughter?