by Barb Hendee
“Forgive me,” Lord Sauvage said. “I asked simply out of concern.”
As I didn’t think him capable of concern, I wondered what he was up to.
“Is there anything else, my lords?” I asked.
“No,” Lord Cloutier answered. “You may go.”
* * * *
The following day, Genève was pronounced guilty of treason and sentenced to death.
I would be expected to attend the execution—as would every noble at the castle. It was considered our duty to watch a traitor die.
However, I made a formal request to the council that Ashton not be required to attend.
My request was granted.
The execution was held in the courtyard, and the morning dawned warm and clear. A platform had been set up, with a simple wooden block positioned on one side. The axman wore a black hood.
About two hundred people gathered around the platform. The crowd was a mix of nobles, guards, city leaders, and merchants. Everyone spoke in hushed tones. I’d heard sometimes these events could take on an almost carnival atmosphere, but not this one. The king was dead, and his mother was about to die for the crime.
As I stood near Baron Augustine, I scanned faces around me until I spotted Captain Caron. Slowly, I moved in his direction until I stood beside him. He looked down at me with bleak eyes.
Then Genève was led out the castle doors by four royal guards. I’d not seen her since that day outside the alcove.
Walking with her head high, she appeared defiant, wearing a gown of golden silk.
Once up on the platform, she cast her gaze around at the crowd, stopping briefly on me before moving on. I wondered if she knew the part I’d played in her conviction.
“I am innocent of treason,” she called clearly. “I loved my son. What I did, I did for him and for this kingdom.”
Even in the end, she couldn’t accept the smallest responsibility in Rowan’s death. I found this lack of self-knowledge somehow tragic.
The executioner motioned to the block, and without fear, she knelt and laid her head down. She had courage.
But I tensed for what was to come. I’d never seen a beheading, and had no wish to be here. Something lightly touched my left hand. The captain’s fingers wove through mine, and he gripped my hand. I gripped back.
“Close your eyes,” he said quietly.
I did as he asked, and a moment later came the sound of the chop. Even without sight, I couldn’t help wincing. After a few breaths, I opened my eyes to see Genève’s headless body on the platform. Blood flowed from the stump of her neck.
Quickly, I pulled my hand from the captain’s before anyone saw, but I was grateful to him.
Chapter Twelve
Two more days passed.
What struck me as most strange about my situation with Ashton, was that it did not feel strange. Her apartments were less lavish than Genève’s, but they were more comfortable, with softer couches, piles of pillows, and thick carpets.
I remained with her during the days, and then I would go down to dinner. Once there, the council members and their wives often questioned me about her state, and I tried to answer ambiguously.
But I was necessary, and this mattered.
No one even mentioned sending me home.
At night, I returned to our rooms and slept with Ashton in her bed. We spoke of little things, and I protected her from everyone else. She needed time to heal.
On that second day following Genève’s execution, I was setting out a light lunch of fruit, bread, and cheese for us when Ashton looked at me directly.
“Kamilla said my mother hired that man in the stable to kill me. Is it true?”
This caught me off guard. Had Kamilla been so blunt? As of yet, Ashton and I had not spoken of realities, but I nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I lied.
“Is my mother dead now?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She was executed.”
“Where you there?”
“Yes.”
“Did she suffer?”
“No,” I assured her. “It was quick.”
To me, this seemed a breakthrough on her part, and I would have answered anything she asked. As Genève had died as a traitor, her body had not been buried in the family crypt, but I didn’t know what became of it. I wondered if Ashton might ask, but instead, she glanced away.
“I have no memories before Rowan and Mother,” she said. “My first clear memory is the day they arrived. The hall was so crowded, and there were guards everywhere, and a great dog standing beside me began to bark. I saw someone with dark hair, and I ran to him. Somehow…I knew he would keep me safe. He would always keep me safe. He picked up me and held me. That was Rowan.”
It was then that I understood why Ashton and Rowan viewed each other so differently. He’d been twelve years old upon arriving at this castle, with memories of a prior life and a prior father. He’d never viewed Ashton as his sister.
Ashton could only see him as a beloved brother, her protector. She’d never known a life without him. In our time here together, in these apartments, she’d never mentioned that day in the alcove when he tore her gown while she wept and begged him to stop, and he’d cut the side of her mouth with his teeth. She seemed to have pushed this from her mind.
I knew he would keep me safe. He would always keep me safe.
This was how she chose to remember him, and now that he was dead, I saw no reason to remind her of his darker side.
However, well before the dinner hour that evening, I grew restless and dressed early to go down.
“Won’t you come with me?” I asked Ashton.
She was sitting by the fire again, staring into the flames. She’d been wearing her nightgown and robe all day. “Not tonight. Soon.”
She’d said this for the past three nights.
Knowing that pressing the matter was hopeless, I slipped from the room and descended the tower to the main floor. As always, I slowed and moved silently down the corridor. For my part, this was more instinct and deeply ingrained training from my father than from any wish to overhear a conversation. No voices drifted from the alcoves.
When I reached the entry chamber before the great hall, I resumed my normal walk, heading toward the archway, but a voice came from just inside and to the right of the arch.
“How soon do you think he will move?” Baron Augustine asked.
The hushed, furtive tone of his voice caused me to stop. Father had also taught me that numerous conversations of value took place in public. He taught me to listen for the tone, for the sound of someone who did not wish to be overheard.
“As early as tomorrow, I fear,” Lord du Guay answered. “Sauvage has never been known for subtlety.”
Quickly, I moved to the wall outside the archway and crept to the corner to peer inside. Though I couldn’t see either man, the hall was alive with the activity of servants setting up dinner.
“How much support does Moreau have?” asked Baron Augustine.
“Not enough,” du Guay answered. “Sauvage is determine to head the provisional government, and I think he has the votes. Moreau may try to roust him, but too many on the council don’t trust a man with his gambling debts. They’ll back Sauvage.”
“The gods save us,” Augustine said. “The people won’t like it. Ashton is too well loved. But with the king dead and the princess lost to us, Sauvage has precedent. I don’t know if he can be stopped.”
I drew away from the wall and hurried back to the corridor. Every word of their conversation echoed in my ears. It all made sense. Lord Sauvage had been suggesting that Ashton had “lost her wits,” and she had done nothing to alter this perception.
Forcing away my father’s careful training, I ra
n down the corridor and up the curving stairs to Ashton’s apartments, slipping through the door.
“You must get up!”
Still sitting by the fire, she turned to me. “What’s wrong?”
I walked straight toward the back of the couch. “Lord Sauvage intends to set up a provisional government and name himself as the head.”
“What?” she asked in disbelief. “Why would he do that?”
“Because with you shut away in here, the kingdom has no ruler.” Stepping around the couch to face her, I pressed on. “Can you imagine Lord Sauvage in control of our military? With absolute power over the lives of our men? Can you see him up on the dais of the common court dispensing rulings to the people? Is that what you want, Ashton? Is it?”
She stood. Her eyes moved back and forth. A light seemed to come on inside her. “Sauvage in common court…no. I do not want that.” Though she wasn’t power-seeking like Rowan, she cared deeply about the people. “Olivia…what do I do?”
“Let me call Kamilla. Don your finest gown and have her pile up your hair. Walk into the great hall tonight and take Rowan’s chair in the center of the first table. Let everyone see you there. Be the queen.”
A long moment of silence followed. Then she nodded.
* * * *
I savored the look of utter shock on Lord Sauvage’s face when we walked through the archway into the great hall.
It was gratifying beyond description.
Ashton wore a rose-colored gown with a split skirt and burgundy underskirt. Her hair was elaborately coiffured, and she wore a diamond tiara. Though diminutive, she was every inch a queen.
There were about forty people in the hall, and Lord Moreau reached us first. “My princess,” he said, bowing. “Are you well? It is a joy to see you.”
She smiled. I don’t know how she managed a smile, but she did. “I am well, as you can see. Would you act as escort and show me to my chair? I should like you on one side of me and Olivia on the other.”
He bowed again. “It would be my honor.”
A sea of inquiries and well wishes followed us to the table.
Moreau was quick-witted, and he pulled out Rowan’s chair for Ashton. She sat gracefully, as if this place was her due—which it was.
Sauvage’s face went pale. Standing before her on the other side of the table, he actually had the nerve to say, “You take the king’s chair, my lady?”
She gazed up at him innocently. “Of course. I will soon be queen.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “The council holds a meeting at noon tomorrow. Perhaps you might be good enough to join us?”
“It would be my pleasure,” she answered.
With a curt nod, he walked down the table to find a seat. Ashton’s countenance remained serene, but I could see her hands under the table. They were shaking.
* * * *
The next day, Ashton dressed with equal care, choosing a gown with a flowing blue skirt and a cream bodice. She chose to wear her hair down, and I wondered if that might be a mistake, as she already looked younger than her age, and leaving her hair down made her appear as a girl.
I gave little thought to my own appearance and wore my tan muslin.
“Come downstairs with me,” Ashton said. “I need your strength.”
I was glad to walk with her to this meeting. She was about to go alone into the lion’s den with her kingdom at stake. Her success was my success at this point, and I had to make myself indispensable to her. Yes, playing nursemaid to Ashton was quite a step down from my recent ambitions, but I would have done almost anything to avoid being sent home.
And…I didn’t mind helping Ashton.
Together we descended from the tower and made our way to the council chambers. Some of the men were already inside and some were milling about out front. Baron Augustine smiled at me warmly. As of yet, everyone appeared to be laboring under the impression that my care of Ashton was entirely selfless.
“Shall we begin?” du Guay asked, starting for the chambers.
“Lady Olivia will be present for this meeting,” Ashton said, taking my hand and leading me past him.
Taken aback, I followed, but I was on uncertain ground. She wanted me in the gathering? Several men inside the room must have heard her and watched us enter.
“Princess…” Lord Moreau began. “It would be best if Lady Olivia waited outside.”
“Why should she not be present?” Ashton returned. “She would have married the king and been my sister. She would have been queen in my place.”
While this was true, Rowan’s death had rendered me less than useless here at court. I was now nothing more than an extra daughter of Hugh Géroux.
“She has a right to be here,” Ashton continued as she turned to an attendant. “Please get Lady Olivia a chair.”
The young attendant scurried to obey, pushing a chair up beside the ornate chair at the table’s head. Ashton sat in the ornate chair and motioned me beside her. Still uncertain of this, I obeyed. Until now, I’d been nearly invisible to the council—caretaker of the princess in her grief. This would bring me to their full attention.
Though nonplussed, the twelve council members began to sit. This entire situation was so unprecedented that my presence here may not have seemed worth a battle. The king had been murdered, the dowager queen beheaded, and now the path forward was unclear.
Only Lord Sauvage glared at me. The others appeared to forget my existence.
I had no idea how this would begin, but the moment all the men were seated and the door was closed, Ashton stood up.
“My lords,” she said. “In the privacy of this chamber, let us not mince words. I understand your concerns and your recent decision to consider setting up a provisional government. But the people of our land are loyal to my family, and they will expect me to be crowned as queen, and you need the goodwill of our people.” She paused. “In turn, I need your goodwill and your support to rule. So, I believe we are saddled with each other.”
The room was dead quiet while every man listened.
Her expression softened. “Though no one has spoken the words, I know as well that you are reticent to crown a girl not yet twenty years of age. Who could blame you? But I am aware of my age and my gender, and I do promise to be counseled by you in all things and to depend upon your experience.”
She had their attention. She was right in one thing. The people of this kingdom would expect to see her crowned as queen. She was the heir. All the men here knew this.
But now, many of the expressions shifted to various states of interest, and my hopes rose. I looked at her through their eyes and saw the image she was painting. She had promised to be counseled by them. They saw a pretty figurehead whom the people loved. They saw a biddable girl who would stand on the dais of common court and keep the people happy while they governed behind the scenes.
“My lady,” Lord Moreau said carefully. “It is common for a reigning monarch to appoint a chancellor. Would you consider this?”
What was he after?
“My brother did not,” Ashton answered.
“No, but he was ten years your senior, and your father made certain he had experience in the workings of the council and the military. We suggested he choose one, but in his case, we did not press the matter.”
This was a threat. Compromises were being considered here, but Lord Moreau was insisting she take on a chancellor if she wanted his support.
“Who would act as chancellor?” Lord Sauvage challenged.
“She would choose for herself,” Moreau answered.
“And you assume she would choose you?”
“I assume nothing,” Moreau answered.
“My lords,” Ashton said. “I am not opposed to choosing a chancellor, but I’ve not yet read the bylaws. Must I choose a member of this council? I would no
t wish to be seen as showing favoritism. Could I choose someone like Baron Cornett or perhaps Viscount Bretagne?”
Another moment of silence followed, but I could see them mulling over her suggestion, and no one appeared displeased. It seemed they might even approve her idea of choosing a man who was not on the council—therefore not disturbing the balance of power. Viscount Bretagne was getting on in years, and Baron Cornett was known to enjoy his pleasures a bit too much, but both men were of noble blood, loyal to the kingdom, and friends with every man on this council. Neither was objectionable, and either one could keep her in check.
Baron August spoke up, “Yes, princess. According to the bylaws, you may choose someone not on the council. He need only be from among the noble families and a landowner.” He paused. “And there is no rush. You need not choose until after your coronation.” He looked about the room. “Are we all agreed in this?”
I held my breath.
Coronation.
The men of the council nodded one by one, even Lord Sauvage, and I exhaled.
She had them.
Ashton would be queen.
* * * *
The next morning, Ashton and I were having breakfast in our sitting room while Kamilla reorganized our gowns in the bedroom.
“You’ll want to give extra thought to your gown today,” Ashton said. “We’re due at common court in an hour.”
I knew today was a bimonthly common court day.
“You wish me to attend?” I asked, taking a sip of tea.
“No. I’ve made arrangements with Micah for the chair placement. I want you up on the dais beside me.”
I set down my cup. Last night at dinner, I’d noticed several members of the council glancing at me askance, perhaps wondering about my growing influence. My presence in the council chambers yesterday was one thing, but this could create powerful enemies.
“Ashton, I can’t. I have no royal title.”
“Well, I can’t do this alone, and I need you up there with me. I need your strength.”
Me? Sitting beside the future queen on the dais? Though a part of me feared the repercussions, another part slowly began to revel in the image. In addition, my survival here depended on Ashton continuing to need me. I was the one who’d started down this murky path, and I couldn’t stop now.
