A Choice of Crowns

by Barb Hendee

  “And what if I get permission from the queen to marry him?”

  “Marry him? Good gods, girl. If you marry him, your father would disown you. You’d no longer be the lady Olivia Géroux, daughter of Hugh Géroux. You would be Mistress Caron, wife of the commander of the royal guard…and you would lose your chancellorship.” He paused. “You must give him up, Olivia.”

  “No.”

  “Then you must give up the queen and leave her to the mercy of the council.”

  “I can’t.” My voice caught, and in the moment, I hated him for coming here tonight. “In all this world, only two people love me, and I won’t give up one for the other.”

  He stood. “I fear you must.”

  Turning away, he walked to the door and left my apartments.

  Whirling back to the fire, I crossed my arms.

  I won’t give up one for the other.

  * * * *

  But that night, when I entered the hall, I passed Micah on the way in. He stood guard near the archway.

  Ashton was already there, and Guy Sauvage was attempting to engage her in conversation, standing at her side, as if that was his place.

  At the sight of me, her face filled with relief.

  “Will you excuse me?” she said to him, coming to join me and taking my arm.

  He appeared momentarily nonplussed, and then shot me a look of anger. His father watched from halfway across the hall. But Lord Sauvage actually smiled at me. Then he glanced at Micah and back to me.

  For all my protests, my heart was breaking.

  Everything the baron said was true. I could never again risk being found in bed with Micah. If so, I would fall, and Ashton would be alone. I could not marry him, or I would fall, and Ashton would be alone.

  Turning my head, I locked eyes with Micah, and his expression turned quietly alarmed. Perhaps he could see the pain in my face. He did not know it yet, but I had just given him up.

  I was forced to choose between Ashton and him.

  And I chose Ashton.

  * * * *

  The great hall around me vanished, and I found myself standing once again in the alcove, standing in front of the three-paneled mirror.

  As before, I fought to breathe, thinking on all that I had just seen and all that I still felt.

  My aching love for both Micah and Ashton was like a dagger in my chest.

  But the dark-haired woman now looked out at me from the left-hand panel.

  “That would be the outcome of the second choice,” she said. “Now you’ll go back to the beginning again, to live out the third choice.”

  “Wait!” I begged. “Give me a moment.”

  I needed to think.

  “To the beginning once more,” she said. “To live out the third choice.”

  My mind went blank, and the alcove vanished.

  The Third Choice

  Independent Action

  Chapter Sixteen

  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 was dizzy, disoriented, 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.

  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 assassinated. 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.

  From where I stood now, the kitchens weren’t far.

  I ran.

  But as my legs carried me swiftly, I couldn’t stop my mind from turning. What if in the process of me saving Ashton, Genève’s guilt was discovered? She was my most powerful ally. Without her, the only person capable of any control over Rowan would be gone. He’d insist on a marriage to Ashton, no matter what it cost him, and I’d be sent home to my father.

  I had to save Ashton. I would not take the crown at the expense of her life…but I must be cautious in my actions.

  I had to do this alone.

  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, but thankfully, the only guards in sight were all the way out at the castle gates.

  Hurrying toward the old stable, I formed a quick plan. My path here had been swift and via a short route. I was certain that I’d arrived before Soren. All I need do was get into the stable and get Ashton out.

  Soren would never attack her in the courtyard. I would come up with some reason for her to accompany me into the castle. Once I got her to safety, I could seek out Genève and confront her—threaten her if I must.

  She and I would succeed, and I would marry Rowan, but by other methods than this, not with Ashton’s blood on our hands. I would make that clear.

  Just as I reached the door to the old stable, motion from the left caught my eye, and I turned to see Rowan on the other end of the barracks, leading a horse out of the new stable.

  I didn’t want him to see me, and slipped inside.

  Ashton stood alone at table about twenty paces away from me.

  Looking up, she smiled. “Olivia, will you not make preserves with the other women? Have you come to help me?”

  My eyes continued scanning and stopped.

  Soren stood in a half-crouch six tables behind her, dagger in hand, and he’d frozen at the sight of me. I’d failed to reach the stable first.

  “Ashton, run!” I cried.

  On instinct, she followed my gaze and her eyes widened at the sight of a man with a dagger.

  “Run!” I shouted again.

  She flew into motion, running for the doors, but Soren bolted after. I held my ground, with my hands gripping the table directly in front of me. Just as he reached me, trying to catch her, I hefted as hard as I could and turned the table over so that it fell against him, knocking him off his feet.

  Just outside the doorway, Ashton skidded to a stop, looking back wildly for me. “Olivia?” Then she began screaming. “Rowan! Rowan!”

  Soren gained his feet quickly, and his eyes narrowed on me. But I heard the sound of pounding feet. What would happen if he were caught?

  “Run, you fool,” I said.

  He looked at me in alarm.

  But it was too late.

  Rowan came flying in the door, a dagger in his hand. At the sight of Soren, his expression went blank. “You?”

  Soren whirled to flee, but Rowan was faster, darting between the tables and cutting him off. Captain Caron ran in the door, and three guards followed close on his heels.

  With four men behind him, Soren tried to rush Rowan, but Rowan was ready, and instead of attacking, he swept with his leg and watched the man fall. The captain reached them in seconds, falling on Soren and pinning him as Rowan kicked the man’s dagger away.

  Ashton came back to me, but her eyes were on Rowan’s face.

  “Rowan?” she asked.

  My gaze followed hers. As opposed to being startled or righteously angry or even triumphant, the king’s expression was dark with a kind of rage I’d never seen. First, he looked over at Ashton, and an instant of fear crossed his features, as if he were imagining what might have happened. Then he reached down, grabbed Soren by the front of his shirt, and jerked him to his feet.

  “Were you sent to this stable to kill the princess?” he demanded, his voice rasping. “Soren, did my mother hire you?”

  I went cold. Rowan knew his name.


  “My king!” the captain said in alarm, perhaps shocked at Rowan’s accusation of the dowager.

  Soren stared stoically ahead.

  Rowan turned to one of the guards. “Go and fetch the dowager queen. Tell her nothing of this. Just bring her. Do it now!”

  The guard glanced at Captain Caron and then ran out of the stable.

  Rowan leaned close to Soren’s face. “You know me. You know my word is good. You’re a dead man, but you can choose how you die. If you tell me the truth, I swear I’ll make it quick, a single stroke. If you don’t, I’ll have you roasting over a fire for three days, and I’ll feed you water while your skin sizzles, to keep you alive as long as I can. Near the end, I’ll cut you down and gut you myself, and I’ll take my time.” He paused. “Do you believe me?”

  Soren breathed rapidly, and his stoic expression wavered.

  “Did my mother hire you to kill Ashton?” Rowan asked.

  With a single, short nod, Soren answered, “Yes.”

  Despair flooded through me. I’d managed to save Ashton, but otherwise I had failed. Genève’s guilt was known. There would be a trial, most likely followed by an execution.

  I’d lost my strongest ally.

  The rage in Rowan’s face grew darker, and Ashton took a step toward him. “It’s a lie,” she said. “Mother would never do this.”

  Footsteps sounded outside, and the guard who’d been sent off returned with Genève at his side. At the sight of Ashton…and Rowan…and Soren held captive, startled guilt crossed her features. Then it was gone. But it was enough, and Rowan saw it.

  He strode toward her with his dagger still in his hand.

  “Rowan, no!” Ashton cried, stepping into his path. He pushed her to one side and kept going.

  “Stop!” Ashton shouted. “Micah, stop him!”

  The captain didn’t move.

  Perhaps Ashton knew her brother better than Genève knew her son, because Genève did not flinch or even take a step back, as if she had no reason to fear.

  Upon reaching his mother, Rowan grabbed the back of her head and drove his dagger into the hollow at the base of her throat. Blood spurted, and her face contorted in pain and disbelief, but he held on to her and kept pushing with the dagger until she stopped moving.

  She was dead.

  He dropped her body.

  Ashton screamed and rushed at him, hitting him with her fists. The blood and death and raw emotions around me were like nothing I’d ever seen. Reaching down, Rowan swept Ashton up into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as she continued trying to hit him.

  The captain and guards all stood frozen.

  Jutting his chin at Genève’s body, Rowan said, “That was royal justice.” Then he looked to Soren. “Micah, take his head off in one stroke.”

  Turning, he strode from the stable carrying Ashton, heading for the castle.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. Genève’s body lay on the floor with a red pool gathering around her head.

  The captain said to me, “My lady, please leave this place.”

  I was only too glad to obey his request.

  * * * *

  Hiding alone in my room, I tried to ponder the magnitude of my failure. By attempting to act alone to save Ashton, I’d not only exposed Genève but had brought about her death.

  And yet…I had not abandoned hope for my own situation. I might still find a way to force Rowan’s hand into marriage. For one, this afternoon, a wedge had been driven between him and Ashton. She’d watched him murder the woman she viewed as her mother.

  And also, the council would still back me.

  All was not lost.

  A knock sounded on my door. Opening it, I found Lords Moreau and Sauvage on the other side. Both men appeared rattled. I’d never seen Sauvage rattled before. They bowed as a show of respect.

  “Forgive the interruption at this time, my lady,” said Lord Moreau, “but we’ve heard the captain’s account of what happened. The princess is unable to speak to anyone, and we must have some support for Captain Caron’s story.”

  He spoke with deference, and I felt on solid ground, as they still treated me as their future queen.

  “Please come in,” I said.

  “Our purpose is only to protect the king,” Sauvage said.

  This was certainly true. These two men were often at odds, as they had different views on national issues, but they were unified in their mutual support of Rowan. Thinking on that, I realized I could give them what they needed: proof that Rowan was justified.

  “Why were you at the old stable this afternoon, my lady?” Moreau asked.

  This was a perfect opening.

  “Because I had just overheard the dowager queen hiring an assassin to kill the princess.”

  “What?” Sauvage asked.

  I told them everything I’d heard and seen. “She gave him a red velvet pouch filled with money. If you have his body searched, you will find it.”

  Both men stared at me. When the pouch was found, they’d have proof of my account.

  “And that’s why you went to the stable?” Sauvage asked. “To try and stop it?”

  “I ran, but I was not fast enough. The man…Soren was already there. I called out to Ashton, and she called for Rowan. He came running in…and he seemed to know the assassin.”

  “Yes,” Moreau answered. “We’ve spoken to the king. He said this man was someone his mother has used over the years for unsavory tasks, and that she brought him from Tircelan when she married Eduard.”

  Lord Sauvage shook his head. “It’s hard to believe how sly she was. I had no idea.” He paused. “You’d be willing to repeat everything you’ve just told us, and swear to its truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then. The king may have acted rashly, but once the truth is known, he’ll be seen as justified.”

  Moreau shifted uncomfortably and assessed me. “My lady, do you understand why the dowager might have been desperate enough to assassinate the princess?”

  Sauvage shot him a quick look, but I was glad to finally be speaking openly.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “For the good of the kingdom,” Moreau continued, “it would be best to see you wed to the king soon.”

  “Perhaps it’s time someone explained that to him,” I answered levelly.

  Sauvage nodded. “We’ll speak to him.”

  They both made to leave, and Moreau glanced back. “Thank you, my lady. You have been most helpful.”

  “Have the body searched,” I repeated. “You’ll find the pouch.”

  * * * *

  Dinner in the hall that night was canceled, and a serving girl brought me a tray in my room.

  She appeared shaken and nearly dropped it before setting it on a table.

  “Does the castle know about the dowager?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Yes, my lady,” she whispered. “Guardsman Baudine told me the king cut her throat.”

  The guards were gossiping? Captain Caron should put a stop to that.

  “Is there anyone in the great hall?” I asked.

  She hesitated and then nodded. “A few…but the king and Lord Cloutier are shouting at each other because the king doesn’t want the dowager buried in the family crypt.” Her voice caught. “He’s calling her a traitor, but Lord Cloutier says that since there was no trial, she must be placed in the crypt.”

  Oh, for the sake of the gods. Did Rowan have no sense? He was shouting at Lord Cloutier over the burial? Did he not mourn his mother at all?

  “Where is the princess?” I asked.

  “No one has seen her, my lady. I think she is in her apartments.”

  “Thank you.”

  Alone, I picked at some of the food, a rabbit stew with a side of raspberries, but I
wasn’t hungry. I did drink the entire goblet of wine. Regardless of my unforgivable mistakes this afternoon, I still viewed myself as in a solid position. Lords Moreau and Sauvage were indebted to me, and they’d promised to try to make Rowan see reason. He would get away with his reckless act of killing his own mother, but it would place him in a more tenuous position, and marrying me would go a long way toward restoring public confidence in his rule.

  I sat there, thinking, into the early hours of the night.

  A low knock sounded on my door, and it opened without invitation.

  Kamilla looked in. Her normally tidy hair was in disarray.

  “My lady, you’re still awake.”

  I stood. “What is it?”

  “The princess is in a bad way.”

  Ashton? Of course she was in a bad way. She’d watched her brother murder the woman she viewed as a mother—after learning that her mother had tried to have her assassinated.

  “That is to be expected,” I returned. “It has been a trying day.”

  “No, my lady,” Kamilla answered. “She is in a bad way, and she does not need a maid to care for her. She needs family, and you are the closest thing she has.”

  “Me? Would not Lady Elizabeth or Lady Miranda know her better?” The wife of a council member seemed a far better choice than myself.

  “I fear not, my lady,” Kamilla answered. “King Rowan…has discouraged her from fostering friendships with anyone but himself. But you are to be her sister. She needs you.”

  You are to be her sister.

  I had a role to play here, and I’d better play it.

  “Yes, of course. I’m coming.”

  As I was still dressed, I left my room immediately and followed Kamilla to Ashton’s apartments.

  There, I saw what Kamilla meant.

  Ashton sat on a couch before her own hearth, but she stared into the flames without blinking and whispered unintelligible words to herself in an endless stream.

  “She won’t speak to the king,” Kamilla whispered. “She won’t even look at him. When he left here, he was in quite a state, and he ordered me to care for her.”

  How very like Rowan.

  Ashton was in shock, and she was grieving.