A Choice of Crowns

by Barb Hendee

  With a curt nod, he took in a breath and walked to the cradle, but once there, he shifted his weight back and forth between his feet as if he would rather be gone.

  “A fine child,” he said. He did not smile or rejoice or even attempt to lift our son and hold him.

  My heart began to sink, and I ventured, “I thought to name him after my father, Hugh, or perhaps my brother, Henri?”

  I believed Rowan would turn to me and insist we name the child Eduard, after his adopted father.

  But instead, he nodded once. “As you wish.”

  For the first time since the day of our marriage, I knew the feeling of true regret. His lack of love for me extended to a lack of love for his son. He didn’t see the child in the cradle as remotely connected to himself. The baby was not Ashton’s.

  Genève’s words echoed in my ears.

  Can you stomach that for the rest of your life?

  Yes, I could stomach it, but reality was proving much, much harder than the image I’d held back then in my mind.

  Rowan turned back toward me. “And you are well? You are recovering?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good.” He started for the door. “I have a meeting with Lord Sauvage. I will inquire after you tomorrow.”

  He was gone.

  Rising, I walked to the cradle and looked down at my beautiful son. I loved him more than I could express.

  “Henri,” I whispered.

  That was his name.

  * * * *

  By a week later, I’d recovered from the birth enough to hold a scheduled gathering in my apartments. Three or four times a month, I hosted the wives of city council members, the wives of merchants, and wives of members of the artisan’s guild for tea, cards, embroidery, and other pastimes. At first Genève had protested, as she would never have entertained women who lacked noble birth in her private apartments.

  But then she saw what I doing and fell silent.

  Though these women were “only” wives, most of them ran the family businesses. They were glad to share knowledge with me and to keep me informed—as I often now sat alone as the head of common court. I was becoming concerned that Rowan had raised taxes again, and his measures were becoming a burden for many of the people.

  Emilee Martine was my strongest ally in this faction. I’d earned her friendship by assisting her with Ashton’s charity work as best I could. I handed off the mantle of creating the lists of needy recipients to her, but I worked actively to help keep the donations flowing.

  Today, about fifteen women had gathered in my sitting room, and I’d kept baby Henri with us. We spent several hours drinking tea, eating cakes, and sharing information. Henri received no end of attention. Five women had set up a game of cards at a table, and Emilee’s adult daughter, Merry, was working an embroidery pattern I’d given her.

  I’d just sat down to offer thoughts on a choice of thread when Kamilla entered and came to me.

  “My queen. Captain Caron is here, and he’s asking permission to see the child.”

  Something about this caused me to draw a quick breath. Micah was just outside asking to see Henri?

  “Oh, please let him come in, my queen,” Merry begged. “The captain is ever so handsome, and we could use a man’s company about now.”

  The other women laughed.

  “Merry!” Emilee admonished. “Don’t be coarse. Remember where you are.” But her eyes were lively, and I could see she agreed with her daughter.

  Nodding to Kamilla, I said, “Show him in.”

  A moment later, the tall captain walked into the sitting room. These chambers were a world for women, from the low couches to the porcelain teacups to the tiny sugar cakes to the embroidery frames. Any man would have seemed out of place, but Micah was the soul of masculinity with his close beard and his height and his chain armor. Thankfully, he’d forgone his sword.

  Upon entering, he bowed to me, but before he could speak, the chattering women surrounded him, leading him to the cradle where Henri lay. I remained seated on the couch.

  Micah’s face broke into a broad smile, and to my amazement, he reached down and picked up my son, cradling the infant with some skill. I wondered where he’d learned to do that. I knew for a fact he wasn’t married.

  Rocking Henri back and forth, he spoke to the child a loving voice. “Well, young prince. You must grow swiftly. I’ll soon teach you how to use a sword and ride a horse.”

  The women laughed happily, and the happiness spread to me.

  “Not too soon, I hope,” Emilee joked.

  “You can never start soon enough,” Micah answered. He cooed over the baby like a woman, and in between coos, he looked over at me with more smiles. He was so comfortable with Henri.

  As I sat there, watching him, unwanted images filled my mind.

  I thought of a life with a man like him…a decent man. I might live in a small home perhaps, but I’d have a pure marriage with a man devoted to me, devoted to his family. I wondered how the soft hair around his mouth would feel if he kissed me. His kiss would be gentle, of that I was sure.

  Walking over, Micah leaned down to hand the baby to me. “Come and see your beautiful mother,” he said to Henri.

  The words were like daggers in my heart as I fought to push all the unwanted fantasies away. This was what I’d wanted from Rowan.

  Micah’s eyes flashed with concern. “My lady? Are you well? Would you like me to leave?”

  I forced my face into a serene expression. “I am well, and don’t wish you to leave. We are all glad for your company. Sit down and tell us more of your plans to teach Henri to ride. How soon should we find him a pony?”

  The concern didn’t fade from his eyes, and the last thing I wanted was his pity.

  “Merry,” I called. “Please bring the captain some of those cakes.”

  The chatter continued, and we went on with our afternoon.

  Chapter Nine

  A month later, Rowan called a formal meeting of the council, and he asked for a vote to invade Samourè. He never once mentioned Ashton’s name. From what I understood—via snippets I was told later—he recounted brutal tales of raiding parties crossing our borders to burn homes, kill men, rape young girls, and steal crops and livestock.

  I don’t know how much of it was true.

  I only know that it worked, and with Lord Sauvage’s added urging, the council voted to give the king a free hand. Only Baron Augustine argued for another strategy, as apparently Amandine—who was now King Amandine—had offered financial reparation, and his offer was ignored.

  Genève told me she’d gone to Rowan and argued fiercely that he abandon this path, but he ordered her from his rooms. This came as quite a blow to her. She’d intended to rule through him, at least in part, and she’d now lost any semblance of control.

  And I’d been right on the night Ashton died, that Rowan would want blood. It took him a year, but he was on the verge of wetting his sword. He wanted to make Samourè’s council suffer, and he wanted them to know what horror they’d brought down upon their own lands. Our army was larger and stronger. Yes, some of our own people would die, but I had no doubt that Rowan would kill a good deal more of theirs. He wanted revenge. He wanted retribution on a grand scale.

  However, in order to avoid resorting to conscription to fill the ranks, he had to sell his war to our people.

  At the next session of common court, he sat in his chair and passed out decisions, and at the end he stood and held up both his hands to signal that he would speak. The great hall was especially crowded. I think perhaps word had spread that news was imminent.

  “My people,” Rowan began. “Our kingdom faces a threat. You all know I have been to the north and back myself. I do not rely on the eyes of others in this matter. It is too important. Raiding parties from Samourè have been attacking our c
itizens with no regard to life or honor. I’ve seen girls no old older than twelve who were raped and murdered, lying on the ground with blood between their legs. I’ve seen the bodies of their fathers and brothers. I’ve seen homes burned and livestock killed for sport and left in the fields to rot.”

  Everyone in the hall listened in silence. Again, I knew some raids had taken place, but I didn’t know how much of Rowan’s account was true.

  “They are pressing inward,” Rowan called. “And they must be stopped! We will gather an army and invade them first. I only ask this of you to protect your own families.” He raised a fist. “We will stop them before they press further!”

  A roar in the hall went up. Word of this speech would spread quickly. He had the people at his back. They would sacrifice money and lives.

  We were going to war.

  * * * *

  It took Rowan another month to raise a full army. Men like my brother, Henri, and others in the royal military were his helping hands in this effort.

  All the nobles sent men from their own lands, including my father. Many of them even sent personal guards. Samourè would surrender in a matter of days…if Rowan would accept surrender.

  Strangely, all of this seemed distant from myself, almost unreal.

  My days rotated around the running of the castle and the raising of my son. He was the light of my life, and every day he grew stronger and more aware. I could not seem to spend enough time holding him and gazing into his eyes.

  Finally, though, he was old enough that Genève insisted he sleep in the nursery, at least at night, with maids to tend him. “Your affection for him is admirable, but it grows unseemly,” she said. “You have responsibilities.”

  I knew she was right.

  Then she added, “And of course you will be breeding again soon. He must have a brother. The nobles will expect it. The people will expect it.”

  She must know Rowan and I had not shared a bed since Henri’s conception. I didn’t think myself capable of ever going through that act again.

  By early fall, Rowan was ready to lead his army. Again…our world at the castle would not change much, as we would not lose all our men. Captain Caron and the royal guard would remain here, exactly as before.

  But I ached for the women of our kingdom, and the wives of Partheney. Their men were leaving, and some would not return.

  The night before Rowan’s departure, I sat up late in my apartments, gazing into the fire.

  Near midnight, a knock sounded. Puzzled, I stood up and answered the door.

  Rowan stood on the other side.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “What has happened?”

  As with him, so many months ago, his presence outside my door in the middle of the night suggested an emergency or a tragedy.

  But then I saw his face. It shone with a mix of shame and desperation.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said quietly. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. One more time, would you…would you do what you do.”

  I couldn’t mistake his meaning. He wanted to come in and close his eyes and have me whisper in his ear and conjure the image of Ashton. He wanted to spend himself inside me while imagining I was her.

  The thought made me ill, and my first instinct was to tell him to go away.

  But his mother was probably having him watched, and so was the council. I couldn’t send him away.

  Wordlessly, I stepped back and let him in.

  * * * *

  A week following Rowan’s departure at the head of his army, I held a gathering of noblewomen in my apartments. In Rowan’s absence, Baron and Lady Augustine had taken up temporary residence at the castle, as had Lords Paquet, du Guay, Moreau, Cloutier, and their wives. Lord Sauvage and several other members of the council had accompanied their king.

  All the ladies, including Genève, met in my apartments for embroidery and companionship. Henri was with us in his cradle, and today, I’d arranged for a special surprise. An hour into our gathering, I’d invited the men to join us, including Micah. Though he held no title, he was one of the few in a position to walk in both social worlds.

  When Genève was queen, she would never have included the men, but I was not she.

  Though the ladies feigned shock at the men’s arrival in my feminine apartments, I could see everyone was pleased, and we were a merry party.

  The servants brought fresh tea and pastries. Within moments, Micah hefted Henri from his cradle and carried him around.

  “He’s gaining weight, my lady.”

  What a good man he was.

  I tried not to think on that last night before Rowan’s departure, of the depraved acts I’d committed on the floor of this same room. Instead, I counted my blessings.

  I had friends here in Partheney.

  I had the loyalty of a fine captain.

  I had my beautiful son, who was the light of my world.

  And most of all…I was queen.

  * * * *

  The lavish sitting room around me disappeared. I found myself standing once again in the alcove of the castle, staring into the right-hand panel of the three-paneled mirror.

  Pressing my back against the wall, I fought to take in air, thinking on all that I had just lived through.

  But the dark-haired woman was now looking out from the center panel.

  “What was that?” I gasped.

  “That would be the outcome of the first choice,” she answered. “But now those memories will vanish, and you’ll go back to the beginning, to the moment of the crisis, to live out the second choice.”

  “Wait!” I cried. “I won’t remember anything of what I just saw?”

  “Back to the beginning once more,” she answered. “To live out the second choice.”

  My mind went blank, and the alcove vanished.

  The Second Choice

  Instant Resolution

  Chapter Ten

  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 disoriented and touched one side of my head, but when Soren turned to leave, I flew into motion, dashing to the nearest alcove to hide from sight.

  He walked past me.

  A few moments later, so did Genève.

  An assassin was about to seek out Ashton in the stable and kill her. I was desperate for the crown. But not at this price, not for Ashton’s life, and I had to save her. From where I stood now, the kitchens weren’t far.

  Without hesitation, 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 about for any help, but the only guards in sight were all the way down at the castle gates, too far way.

  Running toward the old stable myself, I resolved to do anything necessary to save Ashton. Just as I reached the door, I turned my head in time to see Rowan leading a horse out of the new stable.

  He would have been my last choice. He was too unpredictable and too rash when it came to Ashton, but I needed help to save her…and I was determined to save her.

  “Rowan! Hurry! Ashton needs help!”

  Upon hearing me, he turned his head in alarm. Captain Caron came running out of the new stable. He must have been inside, right behind Rowan.

  I dashed inside the open door.

  Ashton stood about twenty paces from me, next to a table piled with coats. “Olivia, was that you shouting? Whatever is wrong?”

  My gaze continued moving and then stopped. Soren was only about four tables behind her. Sunlight coming in an upper window glinted off his shaved head. He carried a long knife, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of me.

 
“Ashton,” I cried. “Run to me!”

  On what must have been instinct, she followed my gaze and saw Soren. With a gasp, she ran toward me as he flew into motion after her, but then Rowan came skidding into the stable with a thick dagger in his right hand.

  At the sight of Soren, his features shifted to shock. “You?”

  Shock was replaced by a snarl that curved his mouth, and he charged. Ashton reached me. Grabbing hold, I pulled her up against the wall.

  The captain skidded through the doorway with his sword drawn.

  “My king!”

  Rowan reached Soren, and the assassin slashed with his blade. Slashing back, Rowan tried to sweep the man’s leg with his foot. He succeeded, but Soren grabbed him and both men went down. The next thing I knew, Soren was partially up, and as he thrust hard, his blade pierced Rowan’s rib cage, sinking up to the hilt.

  Ashton screamed, fighting to break away from me, but I was stronger and held her back.

  Three more guards came flying through the open door. The captain reached Soren and kicked him off Rowan.

  Rowan’s eyes were open and unblinking. He didn’t appear to be breathing. The repercussions of this hit me with a jolt.

  As Soren fell backward, the captain raised his sword, but I cried, “Don’t kill him yet.”

  Though his face was a mask of murderous rage, somehow Captain Caron stopped. His men rushed, and they pinned Soren to the floor. While this distracted me, Ashton broke away and ran to her brother. A cry of pain escaped her, echoing off the walls of the barn.

  “No!”

  Her fingers were on his throat and then his chest, but as I walked up behind her, I knew she’d find no signs of life. The blade must have gone right into his heart.

  King Rowan was dead.

  Ashton began keening and leaned over to press her face against his body. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never loved anyone enough to experience such loss.

  In alarm, I looked to the captain for help.

  But he jerked Soren to his feet. “I’ll make your death last for days,” he rasped.

  With stony eyes, the assassin remained silent, and my thoughts churned. Rowan was dead. My entire world shifted in less than a minute. Genève had been my most powerful ally to force a marriage with her son, but now he was gone, and I was unwanted baggage…and she’d told me in detail how she’d arranged to have Ashton kidnapped. I knew too much.