by Barb Hendee
The madness in Rowan’s face faded as he looked at her. She trembled and wept and held up her gown. One side of her mouth was bleeding. He hadn’t struck her, so I assumed he’d cut her with his teeth. Then he looked down at his own hands as if stunned at what he’d been about to do. For the first time, he turned his head and really looked at me.
I held my right hand out to Ashton.
“Come with me now,” I said. “I cannot decide on a gown by myself.”
Her eyes focused on my hand, and she ran forward, grabbing it like a lifeline. I grasped her fingers tightly and began walking back the way I’d come.
“Where are your rooms?” I whispered.
“In the tower ahead, one floor below Mother’s apartments.”
Even though I didn’t think Rowan would come after us, I kept her moving swiftly up the stairs, and at the top, we passed a young serving girl. “Go and fetch Kamilla straight away,” I ordered. “The princess has fallen and injured herself.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Yes, my lady.”
She ran off.
Continuing onward, I took Ashton toward her rooms. She didn’t speak.
* * * *
I stayed with Ashton only until Kamilla arrived to take over. I might have saved Ashton from rape, but I was worthless as a nurse. I told Kamilla the same story about her having fallen. After one glance at Ashton, Kamilla did not appear to believe me, but I didn’t care.
“I can get myself dressed tonight,” I said. “Stay with her until dinner.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Upon leaving Ashton, I once again made my way up the corridor toward the center of the castle. When I emerged into the circular entryway, I stopped at the sight of Rowan speaking to Captain Caron.
Rowan seemed in control of himself again. “All right. We’ll go over the watch rotation later,” he said.
“Yes, my king.”
At the sight of me, the captain nodded and left quickly.
Rowan glared at me. We both knew what I’d just witnessed, and I walked straight to him. It was time he started to learn who I was.
We were alone, and before I could say anything, he spoke first.
“Do you still wish to marry me?” he challenged.
“With all my heart,” I answered coldly.
He leaned closer. “You enjoy rough wooing?”
Did he think I’d respond to threats? I had no personal fear of him. He would never grasp the back my head and kiss me like he’d kissed Ashton. Nor would he ever tear my gown. That sort of act required passion.
I whispered in his ear. “Say what you like. Do what you like. But know this. I am not leaving. I promise, no matter what you do, I am here to stay.”
His eyes flashed hatred.
Good. I hated him too.
Turning, I swept off toward the west tower.
* * * *
At the conclusion of dinner that night, Rowan stood up and walked down the table to lean over Ashton. Previously, after dinner, I’d only seen him call to her to join him.
Tonight’s action must have been unusual, because Genève watched. Reaching out, he touched Ashton’s back, and she flinched. She wouldn’t look at him, and he grew agitated, whispering into her ear with determination. After a few moments, she finally nodded once.
“We’re off to play chess,” he said to his mother.
Silently, Ashton rose and let him lead her from the hall.
Genève turned to me, searching my face with her eyes. I’d never seen her alarmed before…but she was alarmed.
“What was that?” she demanded quietly. “She was afraid of him just now.” Her eyes shifted back and forth. “That cut on her mouth. Did he do that?”
I hesitated. She seemed to have guessed I knew something.
“Nothing happened,” I said. “Nothing of consequence.”
“But he…did he try…?” she trailed off.
“Nothing happened,” I repeated.
The crack in her control vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and she was serene again, but I’d glimpsed a hint of desperation.
* * * *
The next morning, I slept late, as I’d tossed and turned in my bed much of the night. I had a feeling something explosive was about to happen in this castle. I just didn’t know who would light the fire.
The only thing I knew was that I had to succeed.
Near noon, Kamilla came to help me dress. I’d been told yesterday that an abundance of strawberries had been picked, and all of the noblewomen were gathering in the kitchens this afternoon to help the serving women make preserves. This was an old custom, and we even practiced it at my father’s keep. In the heart of winter, preserved fruit had more value than gold. The poorest of our kingdom’s people lived on flatbread and salted fish, and they often grew ill from the lack of variety in their diets.
I doubted Ashton’s mother knew of her penchant for giving away last year’s supply to fishermen and the wives of unemployed stonemasons.
Normally, I enjoyed the practice of making preserves. Today I was filled with trepidation. Something in Genève’s face last night worried me. But what did she have to fear if Prince Amandine’s retinue was scheduled to arrive? Some of the things Ashton had said in the alcove yesterday were true. Rowan could not thwart the will of the council if he wished for their future support, and he’d already risked several international incidents in refusing marriages for himself. Turning away a royal guard that had come to escort a new queen home—after negotiations were completed—would be a great insult. Wars had been fought for less.
“Pull out my oldest wool today, Kamilla. I’ll be working in the kitchens.”
“Yes, my lady. As will I.”
Her manner was a bit subdued this morning, but thankfully, she didn’t bring up Ashton’s torn clothes or cut lip. Instead, she dressed me in silence.
“I’ll do my own hair,” I said, wanting her to leave.
“Very good, my lady.”
She slipped out.
I brushed my hair and pulled it back in a sensible braid. Looking in the mirror, I saw dark circles under my eyes. Those would not do. Father wouldn’t approve. I’d need to put powder under my eyes before dinner tonight.
Upon leaving my guest room, I made my way down the curving stairwell. Once on the main floor, I knew I had to head north for the kitchens. I passed a few servants along the way, and then entered an empty corridor. Without thinking, my steps slowed and my walk became silent. I passed an alcove almost without noticing it, for I was not truly focusing on the alcoves this morning, until I heard a distinctive female voice ahead.
“You’ll enter the stable from the back and make certain that no one sees you, especially Rowan. Do you understand?”
It was Genève.
“I know what I’m doing,” a gravelly voice answered.
An alcove awaited on the right.
Silent but swift, I rushed to one side to listen and carefully peeked between the corner and a balustrade. Inside the narrow chamber, Genève stood speaking to a middle-aged man with a shaved head. His features were sharp. He wore chain armor over a wool shirt but no tabard.
“She’ll be alone this morning,” Genève said. “I gave her permission to forgo making preserves today so that she might sort some donations for tomorrow’s wagons. Whatever you do, don’t let her scream. Just cut her throat and slip out the way you came. And remember, you cannot be seen by Rowan.”
I froze.
She was speaking of Ashton.
“I told you,” the man said. “I know what I’m doing, and I don’t need a lecture from you.”
Genève assessed him and handed him a red velvet pouch. “This isn’t only about money. The good of the kingdom is at stake. Most of the nobles are sheep, but there are several wolves. If Rowan falls, it could mean civil
war. Do you want that, Soren?”
Soren? She knew him by name.
The man hefted the pouch. “Doesn’t make any difference to me, so long as I get paid. But you need not fear. I’ll get it done.”
When he turned to leave, I panicked. Whirling, I ran back up the corridor and dashed into the first alcove just in time to avoid being seen. Listening to their steps, I heard him stride past. A few moments later, Genève walked in the other direction.
I was alone in an alcove while an assassin was heading toward the old stable to kill Ashton.
I stood there, listening to my breath. What should I do?
Suddenly, the air inside the alcove began waver. Alarmed, I tried to step back, but there wasn’t much room. The motion of the wavering air grew more rapid, and then…something solid began taking shape.
I drew in a harsh breath.
There, right in front me, stretching from one wall of the alcove to the next, a great three-paneled mirror now stood where there had been only empty air an instant before. The thick frames around each panel were of solid pewter, engraved in the image of climbing ivy vines. The glass of the panels was smooth and perfect, and yet I didn’t see myself looking back.
Instead, I found myself looking into the eyes of a lovely, dark-haired woman in a black dress. Her face was pale and narrow, and she bore no expression at all. But there she was, inside the right-hand panel, gazing out at me.
Had I lost my hold on reason? Was this place and these people driving sanity from my mind?
“Do not fear,” the woman said. “There is nothing to fear.”
I couldn’t help my rising fear, but I also could not seem to speak.
“You are at a crossroads,” she continued, “with three paths.” As she raised her arms, material from her long black sleeves hung down. “I am bidden to give you a gift.”
Could this be real? Was it truly happening?
“You will live out three outcomes…of three different choices,” she said. “Three paths await you. Three actions…or inactions you might decide upon. Then you will have the knowledge to…choose.”
I shook my head, finding my voice. “Wait! What are you saying?”
Lowering both hands to her sides, she said, “The first choice.”
My thoughts went blank, and the alcove around me vanished.
The First Choice
Hesitation
Chapter Five
I was in a corridor, outside an alcove, listening to the plans of a murderer and an assassin.
“Doesn’t make any difference to me, so long as I get paid,” said the man called Soren. “But you need not fear. I’ll get it done.”
I felt dizzy, disoriented, as if I’d forgotten something and needed to remember, but when Soren turned to leave, I flew into motion, dashing to the nearest alcove and hiding from sight.
He walked past me.
A few moments later, so did Genève.
My mind raced. This man…this Soren, was about to seek out Ashton in the stable and kill her. Of all the possible actions Genève might have taken, it never once occurred to me she would have Ashton removed via assassination. Genève had raised Ashton as her own daughter.
She must be more desperate than even I’d realized. But what should I do?
I must stop it. Of course I had to stop it. And yet…
I hesitated.
What if I did save Ashton and in the process Genève’s guilt was discovered? What would Rowan do? If the truth came out, he could call for her execution—and he would win. Where would that leave me? My most powerful ally here would be gone. The only person capable of any control over Rowan would be gone. He’d insist on a marriage to Ashton at any cost, and I’d be sent home to my father.
I stood there for long moments, frozen in hesitation, lost in the possibilities.
With Ashton gone…the path would be cleared for me.
Shaking my head, I came back to myself. No! I could not wear a crown bought with Ashton’s blood. But time had been lost, and I would have to hurry. From where I stood now, the kitchens weren’t far, and there would be a door near the kitchens leading out into the courtyard. All kitchens had an exit.
I ran.
Upon reaching the archway to the kitchens, I looked ahead to a door and hurried through it. Once out in the courtyard, I cast my eyes about for any help, but the only guards in sight were all the way down at the castle gates, too far away.
Flying into motion, I ran toward the old stable myself, not certain what I’d do when I got there. Just as I reached the door, motion from the left caught my eye, and I turned to see that Rowan had led a horse out of the new stable, and he was adjusting its bridle. Captain Caron was coming out behind him, leading a roan stallion.
Again, I hesitated.
I would rather not involve Rowan directly. He’d be the most dangerous in seeking out the truth. But I had to do something. I’d already wasted too much time, and at this point, I would need help.
Stopping near the doorway, I shouted, “Captain Caron! Come quickly!”
Upon hearing me, the captain turned his head in alarm.
Then…Ashton screamed. I could hear her terror.
The captain and Rowan both bolted, running toward me at full speed, and I hurried into the stable.
To my surprise, it was now quiet inside. I saw no one, only long tables piled with goods and dust hanging in the air.
The captain skidded through the open door first.
Then Rowan came pounding in behind, casting around for the princess. “Ashton!” He carried a thick dagger in his right hand.
I hurried forward, looking both ways. Where was she? Could the assassin have dragged her off when he’d heard me and realized he was about to interrupted? Rowan and the captain were both searching too. Rowan was in a panic and moving the fastest down the tables to my right.
Then he stopped and went pale.
A sound I’d never heard before, like something from a wounded animal, escaped his mouth. He dropped from sight, and both the captain and I hurried toward him, navigating two tables piled with dusty overcoats.
Upon reaching Rowan, I looked down at the floor and wanted to close my eyes.
He knelt beside Ashton’s body. Her throat was slashed open and blood flowed in a stream across the floor. Her beautiful black hair lay around her head, and her eyes were closed. Rowan picked her up and pulled her tightly against his chest, rocking back and forth, making long keening sounds. The look on the captain’s face was unbearable. I could see sorrow warring with pain…and guilt. His job was to protect the family.
I couldn’t seem to move my feet, and I wanted Rowan to stop making those awful sounds. I wanted him to put Ashton’s body down.
Thinking back to her scream, I realized the assassin must have been almost upon her when he’d heard me call out for help. He’d been forced to rush events, and she’d seen him coming. He’d killed her quickly and then moved out of sight.
Had I arrived here a few moments earlier, she might be alive.
My hesitation had cost Ashton her life.
* * * *
After that, events took a morbid turn.
Once more men arrived in the old stable, Captain Caron ordered two of them to lock down the castle gates. By that point, his sorrow had shifted to anger. He wanted someone to punish.
Rowan would not get up off his knees, and he refused to let go of Ashton or allow anyone else to touch her or remove her body. I didn’t even try to reason with him, and instead sent a guard to bring Genève.
Before long, the dowager queen stood in the doorway with more guards at her back, and then she approached, glancing at me and looking down at the scene of the floor. Her face was unreadable.
“Has the assassin been caught?” she asked the captain.
“Not yet, my queen. But he wil
l be.”
“This must be the work of someone on Prince Amandine’s council,” she said with a slight break of sorrow in her voice. “There was great resistance to his impending marriage.”
I had to admit she was good. She was very good.
He nodded slowly, considering her words. “I will hunt down whoever did this.”
Rowan had fallen silent, but he continued rocking back and forth, still gripping Ashton tightly. Her blood ran down his left arm.
“My son,” she said slowly. “Put your beloved sister down so that her body might be properly attended.”
He ignored her, and she stepped closer.
“Rowan,” she ordered. “Put her down.”
Turning, I left. I couldn’t bring myself to watch the outcome.
* * * *
After returning to my own room, I remained there until evening, sitting and thinking.
At one point, a serving girl arrived with a tray. I’d given no thought to food, but I hadn’t eaten all day.
The tray contained bread with butter, a slice of cheese, a bowl of strawberries, and a large goblet of wine. Looking at the simple meal, I was surprised to find myself hungry.
“Did the dowager queen order this?” I asked the girl.
“No, my lady. Kamilla sent me.”
That made more sense. Kamilla may be stoic, but she was thoughtful. Then I noticed tearstains on the girl’s face. She’d been crying.
“You know about Princess Ashton,” I said.
“Yes, my lady. The whole castle knows.” Her voice broke. “The captain had his men bring a door down to the stable, and they carried her body inside and to the cellars.”
Well, that was something. At least she was being treated with dignity now. It was normal to carry a body to the cellars, where it was cooler, for burial preparation.
“Where is the king?” I asked.
“In his rooms.”
“And the dowager?”
“In her rooms.”
“Thank you.”
I sent the girl away, and then I ate slowly. My father’s quiet voice sounded in my ear.
Good. Keep up your strength. Your path is clear now.
