A Choice of Crowns

by Barb Hendee

  Walking over, I leaned down to touch her shoulder. “Princess?”

  She didn’t respond or acknowledge I’d spoken. Her whispering continued. No wonder Kamilla had gone for help.

  The problem was that I had no idea how to offer comfort.

  Then I remembered a night when I was twelve years old, and my brother Henri had tried to offer comfort to me.

  “Get me a blanket,” I ordered Kamilla.

  Once I had the blanket in hand, I sat down close to Ashton and covered us both.

  “Stoke up the fire,” I told Kamilla, “and then go to the kitchens and bring back a pot of hot tea with honey and milk.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  After building up the fire, she hurried away.

  Wrapping my arms around Ashton, I pulled her close to me and held her. She let me.

  She stopped her unintelligible whispering.

  Neither of us spoke. I just held her and kept her covered with the blanket.

  When Kamilla returned, I poured Ashton a half a cup of tea, blew on it until it was cool enough, and brought it near her lips. I had feeling she might respond to an order.

  “Ashton,” I said firmly. “Drink this.”

  When I held the cup to her mouth, she drank from it. I helped her finish it and then set down the cup.

  Settling back, I again covered both of us with the blanket.

  “Kamilla, there’s nothing more you can do. You may as well go and get some sleep.”

  “Are you sure, my lady?”

  “Yes. I’ll stay with her. Get some rest. She’ll have need of you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  Once Kamilla was gone, I took Ashton back into my arms and held her. Hours passed, and she rested against me, but she never closed her eyes.

  Finally, when my arms began to ache and my shoulder grew sore, I whispered, “It’s late, and you’ve not slept. Do you think you might lay down in the bed?”

  “Will you stay with me?” she whispered back.

  These words were a good sign. She was still lost in grief, but at least speaking coherently now.

  “Yes. I’ll stay.” I helped her up and when once we’d walked into her bedroom, I said, “Let me unlace your gown so you will be comfortable.”

  Like a child, she did my bidding and stopped. Quickly, I unlaced the back of her gown and slipped it off her shoulders, leaving it in a heap on the floor. After helping her into bed, I crawled in beside her. I was still fully dressed, but that didn’t matter either.

  “Sleep now,” I whispered.

  “You won’t leave?”

  “No. I won’t leave. I promise.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I stayed with Ashton all the next day and night. Kamilla brought us trays of food, but Ashton did not eat much. I sat with her and spoke of small things. I had Kamilla bring me a book of stories of knights and maidens, and I read to her.

  When visitors knocked on the door, I stood as both messenger and guardian, and no one resented me. They all viewed me as Ashton’s sister and the future queen.

  I was exactly where I was supposed to be, caring for my sister in a time of need.

  Late morning of the second day, she asked for more tea with milk and honey. We were alone, and by that point, I needed a short break, so I told her I’d go down and fetch it myself.

  It felt good to walk down the curving stairwell through the long corridor. Upon reaching the round entry chamber, I stopped at the sight of Captain Caron speaking to a few of his guards. As I entered, he saw me and broke off, coming right to me.

  “My lady,” he said. “Are you well?”

  His face was so genuinely concerned that it touched me. Was he worried I might be too delicate to recover from that awful scene in the stable?

  “I am well,” I answered, “but I’m caring for the princess. The king committed a brutal and reckless deed. He should have had the dowager arrested and put on trial.”

  The captain glanced away. He might agree with me, but it was clear he didn’t care to hear Rowan criticized.

  “Well, it’s done now,” he said.

  “Yes. It is.” Having been cut off from all news, I asked, “Will there be…repercussions?”

  “I think not. It seems you supplied proof that the dowager had arranged for the assassination. I searched the man’s body and found a red velvet pouch.”

  “So, the council ruled Rowan’s actions as justified?”

  He nodded.

  “What else has happened?” I asked. When his face began closing up, I added, “Please. This affects me.”

  He sighed. “He was in a closed-door meeting with Lords Moreau and Sauvage this morning, and when he came out, he had a face like thunder. I don’t know of what they spoke.”

  Fortunately, I did. Those two had wasted no time in pressing Rowan to complete the marriage with me. Good. He must be made aware of his current position. A wedding with a young noblewoman from an old family—with the promise of heirs—would go far to establish the goodwill of the people.

  “Thank you, Captain,” I said, and headed off to the kitchens.

  Once there, I put together a tray of tea with milk and honey, and I carried it back upstairs.

  But when I reached Ashton’s apartments, the door to the sitting room was open, and I knew I had closed it.

  Rowan’s voice carried out into the corridor.

  Stepping up to the open doorway, I looked inside. Ashton sat on a couch, and Rowan was on his knees before her. His position would have seemed conciliatory, except for the fact that he had his hands placed on the couch, one to each side of her, so she couldn’t rise.

  His expression held the same mix of intensity and determination as that night after dinner on the day he’d attacked her in the alcove—only this time it contained a hint of anxiety. I had a feeling he’d been here for a while.

  “I had to do it,” he said. “I had to protect you.”

  Her head was tilted down, and she wouldn’t look at him.

  “You understand?” he went on. “She paid an assassin to have you murdered, and she would have done it again. You know that everything I do, I do to protect you.”

  When she didn’t speak, one side of his jaw twitched.

  “Do you love me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Then you forgive me?”

  She nodded once.

  “Say it,” he told her. “Say the words.”

  “I forgive you,” she whispered.

  Then he was up on the couch beside her, pulling her close. She leaned into him and for the first time since Genève’s death, she began to cry, weeping against him while he held her.

  “It’s all right,” he said, “I’m here.”

  Somehow, he’d gotten her to turn to him in her sorrow. I did not understand them.

  With a light step, I entered the room, carrying the tray, and stopped at the sight of him, as if I’d just arrived.

  “My king,” I said, “the princess wished for some tea.”

  At my intrusion, hostility shone from his eyes. “Set it down and leave.”

  Ashton pulled away from his arms. “No, Rowan. Olivia has been staying with me. I want her here.”

  His glance moved between the bedroom door and me. “Staying here?” he asked Ashton. “Why?”

  “She’s been helping me.”

  I tensed, not knowing how he might react. Did he think only Kamilla had been caring for Ashton?

  But he nodded to her slowly. “Good. You do seem recovered. I will expect you at dinner tonight.”

  “Dinner? Oh, Rowan…I don’t think I can—”

  His voice hardened. “If she has been helping you, then you are recovered enough to come down to dinner. If not, perhaps someone else should come a
nd stay. Lady Miranda, perhaps?”

  Ashton’s gaze dropped. “No. Not Miranda. I’ll be at dinner.”

  “Good.”

  How I hated him. Threatening her with removing me and sending Lord Sauvage’s wife? He always knew how to best manipulate Ashton.

  Rising, he cast me one more glance before leaving the apartments. I fought back a shudder. Marriage with him would be no stroll through a meadow. That much was certain.

  I carried the tea tray to Ashton. “Would you like a full cup or just a half?”

  * * * *

  As everyone gathered that night in the great hall to drink wine and mill about before dinner, the evening took on a surreal quality. A number of the nobles present actually offered Rowan and Ashton condolences on the loss of their mother.

  And Rowan accepted graciously…as if he’d not run a dagger through her throat.

  Apparently, everyone was going to pretend that Genève’s death was an avoidable tragedy. I wondered if Rowan had relented over allowing her to be buried in the family crypt. I understood the point of the argument. As there was proof of Genève’s culpability, Rowan had been found justified, but…as there had been no formal trial or verdict, officially, she’d not been sentenced with treason and therefore should be placed in the crypt.

  Tonight, I wore a gown of dove-gray velvet. I’d not been seen in this yet. Not all women could wear light gray, but it made the colors of my hair and eyes more vivid.

  Ashton wore a sky-blue silk, and I could see she was trying to please Rowan by staying with him and holding his arm. Word had spread of her running at him in the stable and hitting him even as he carried her out.

  Captain Caron really did need to speak to his guards about future discretion. They might be loyal patriots, but a few of them had loose tongues.

  Scanning around, I looked for the captain, but he wasn’t on duty in the hall tonight.

  Lord Paquet’s wife, Elizabeth, greeted me first. “Lady Olivia. How lovely you look.”

  I thanked her and smiled as others moved to greet me. Everyone treated me as the future queen.

  Though Rowan did not acknowledge me, the undercurrent of support I felt was strong. Both Lords Moreau and Sauvage bowed as if I were already wearing a crown.

  When trays of steaming food were carried through the archways, Rowan and Ashton walked to the first table. She looked over and motioned to me to follow. The king sat in his chair in the center with Ashton at his right and Lord du Guay to his left. I sat to Ashton’s right. It would have looked more appropriate for the two of us to switch places, but there was no way I could gracefully suggest it.

  Ashton was quiet for all three courses, but she seemed well enough, and she ate a few bites of nearly everything. Several times, Rowan turned to encourage her to eat.

  Lady Elizabeth sat to my right, and she chattered all through dinner. I managed to make interested noises, as I wondered how soon the council would make a more serious move to pressure the king into sealing our betrothal.

  At the end of the meal, Rowan stood, and I expected him to ask Ashton to leave with him—for their usual games of chess.

  But he merely stood until the hall fell silent, and all heads turned his way.

  “Thank you,” he said, and his voice carried to the archway. “And now, I wish for you all to rejoice with me at the news of my upcoming marriage.”

  What was he doing? Making a formal announcement of our betrothal?

  Ashton turned to give me a beaming smile.

  “One week from tonight,” Rowan went on, “I will join my life forever with the princess Ashton.”

  A sea of faces froze.

  Ashton’s smile faded, and she looked up at him as if she’d not heard correctly. I felt my cheeks flush red.

  “Tomorrow,” Rowan said, “I’ve called the merchants and city leaders to common court to make a public announcement. Once I have their good wishes, the council will convene to provide approval. It will be a small ceremony, but everyone here is invited.”

  Crooking his arm, he looked down to Ashton. “And now I would play chess.”

  She stared up at him, and for a few seconds, I thought she might refuse to take his arm. But though she dropped her gaze, she stood. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she let him lead her out of the hall.

  I sat there, completely still, as voices erupted all around me. I knew why he’d done this. Rowan was no fool, and he’d carefully chosen a moment when there could be no questions and no discussion. But he could not have chosen a crueler method.

  To shock Ashton in front of everyone.

  To humiliate me in front of everyone.

  “My dear…my dear…” the lady Elizabeth sputtered beside me. “I’m sure the king is playing a little joke. He will return and we will laugh.”

  I bit my tongue from responding to her silly—and false—reaction. If the king were to kill his own mother and then play a joke at a formal dinner two nights later, it would mean he was mad.

  Rowan was not mad.

  But he was determined to have his own way.

  I wasn’t finished yet. Tomorrow, he would announce his plan to the merchants and leaders of the city, and then he had to gain approval from the council.

  Forcing a smile, I rose. “Yes, of course,” I answered Elizabeth. “Would you please excuse me?”

  A number of people were on their feet by now. Some were stunned by Rowan’s announcement…but not the members of the council. I walked with my head high past all the glances thrown my way—as my status was now in question. The worst moment occurred when I passed Baron Augustine, and his face filled with pity.

  Pity.

  For some reason, I was grateful the captain had not been here tonight to witness this.

  At the archway, I stopped.

  The gaming room was down the north corridor, but Rowan and Ashton were at the mouth of the south corridor. Her back was against the wall. He wasn’t touching her, but he stood directly in front of her with his arm blocking her escape.

  Her body was tense, and her head was down.

  As he had done before, he leaned in, speaking to her urgently.

  After leaving the hall, she must have tried to make a run for her apartments, and he’d stopped her.

  I couldn’t hear Rowan, but Ashton shook her head once, and he frowned.

  I saw her mouth the word, “Please,” and his frown deepened.

  She said it again, and he finally stepped back to let her go. Ashton fled up the south corridor. As he turned, I stepped backward, so he wouldn’t see me as he strode east toward his own rooms.

  I couldn’t bring myself to go back into the hall, but I also couldn’t face going up to Ashton’s apartments. Instead, I walked west, to my room.

  * * * *

  I sat alone, striving to devise ways that I might yet succeed here, but entertaining the possibility of failure.

  What would that mean?

  I trembled to think. When my father learned what had happened here, he would blame me entirely.

  A soft knock sounded on my door.

  I feared who it might be even before opening it, and was not surprised to see Ashton on the other side. Her arms were crossed and her expression was lost. I had seen that look on her face before.

  We both stood for a long moment.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry for what he did tonight.”

  “You had no idea he’d make that announcement?” I asked. “He’d said nothing to you earlier?”

  She shook her head. “No. But he means to do it, Olivia. How can he even…?” Her voice sounded so wretched that I wondered about one possible path.

  “You’ve no wish to marry him?” I asked, “not even to be queen?”

  “Marry him? He’s my brother!”

  Technically, he was not, bu
t I didn’t point this out. “Then refuse.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “That would hurt him.”

  My hopes fell. Ashton might fear Rowan, but she feared hurting him even more. I’d known this already.

  A tear ran down the side of her face.

  “I know this is unfair,” she said. “But I don’t have anyone else. Could I stay here with you tonight?”

  To my shame, I felt a wave of pity. What was happening to me? I was a Géroux. She was the cause of all my trials, and all I could feel was pity.

  Stepping back, I let her in.

  Chapter Eighteen

  True to his word, the following day, Rowan held a common court attended by the merchants, artisans, and city leaders of Partheney.

  I forced myself to attend—as I had to know the impact of his announcement.

  Few people here would know who I was, so I was able to blend in until Captain Caron spotted me. I wished he were not here. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I didn’t want him witnessing this. But he always attended common court.

  His expression was taut as he moved to join me, so I assumed he’d heard about Rowan’s announcement at dinner at last night.

  Thankfully, he didn’t offer me any words of sympathy as he took his place beside me and simply nodded. “My lady.”

  Then I was glad for his presence, and stepped closer to stand beneath his height.

  Judging by the easy chatter and relaxed mood of the people around me, with the exception of the captain, no one in the hall had any idea of what Rowan would announce today.

  Heads began turning as Rowan and Ashton entered the hall with six guards behind them. Rowan walked through the crowd with purpose. His large chair was up on the dais, with Ashton’s smaller chair set halfway behind it. He motioned for her to sit, but he remained standing and faced the crowd. She sat with her eyes down, and her face was unreadable.

  Rowan cut a striking figure in a red sleeveless tunic, with his dark hair waving down over the top of his collar. As always in court, the crown was on his head.

  “My people,” he began. As with last night, his voice carried through the hall. “I came here as the son of a king when I was twelve years of age. King Eduard formally adopted me, and I became his son. I am his son.” He waved his hand back to Ashton. “Your princess has grown up at my side, and she loves our people as I do, as many of you can attest by her good works and labors to help those she can, and to ease their suffering.”