“You have much to learn, Daughter, but let me be the one to teach you. Sit with me.” He pointed to a velvet chair beside his throne. “I had this made for you. Tell me whether it’s comfortable or if I should have it redone.”
The chair would not have been more uncomfortable if it had been made of spikes, but Avery had learned not to voice every opinion.
“You are kind,” she said. “I appreciate your generosity.”
The king snapped his fingers and a servant appeared carrying a red silk pillow bearing a beautiful crown. Circles of gold intertwined with pearls to form delicate flowers. Avery recognized it as the crown she had tried on with Kate shortly after arriving at the castle.
“Do you like the look of it?” the king asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“Anything you would add?”
The crown was perfect, but Avery sensed he wanted her to suggest something. “I have always loved rubies, Your Grace.”
“Yes!” he said, smiling. “A touch more color. Add rubies!”
As the servant hurried away, the king said, “It’s time for a little castle history, my dear. Shall we start from the tops of the towers down, or from the subterranean tunnels up?”
“What was she like?”
The king’s brows drew together, almost as if he didn’t know whom she was referring to. But then he rested his chin on steepled fingers as if deep in thought.
“Strange, I had all but put her out of my mind. Losing her was so painful that I determined to forget her. But when you appeared in my war room, fearless before my council, and pleading fiercely for someone you loved, it was as if you embodied her. I was seeing her again.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, nearly overcome. What higher compliment could she be paid?
“Which is why I want you to start ruling with me.”
“But I’m only thirteen, Highness.”
The king laughed heartily. “What better way to learn to swim than jumping into the sea?”
Avery cringed, wondering how much he knew.
The king slid a ring from his bony finger. “If you like rubies, you should have this.”
Avery could barely breathe as she turned it this way and that. From the first time she had seen the king’s portrait in the theater district as a child, she had associated him with this very ring.
“Are you sure?” she managed.
“My gift to you,” he said, taking it back.
The king called for a servant and handed him the ring. “Have this sized for my daughter, and take that chair and have a throne built for her by tomorrow, fit for a ruler.”
The servant pulled the chair out from under Avery so quickly she was forced to stand and step aside. So as not to loom higher than her king, she dropped to her knees.
The king smiled down at her. “Always tell me the truth.”
“I will, Your Grace.”
The king stood and leaned on his cane. “Sit here,” he said. “See how you like it.” He delicately made his way down the stairs of the dais, calling over his shoulder, “Happy to pass off the settling of disputes. Given your enthusiasm for placing blame, I know you’re ready. You start tomorrow morning.”
Before Avery could protest, the king exited the great double doors.
His throne was indeed fit for a king. Luxurious, she felt as if she could survey the entire realm from it. The enormous expanse of the Throne Room made her wonder if anything could be more grand—or lonely—than life from that perch of power.
That evening, Avery dined with the king and his advisors—including the one in crimson—vainly trying to put Thomas out of her mind. She would have to make something happen fast.
The king and his men traded jokes, and each time he looked her way, Avery forced a smile. She was determined to never again disappoint him in front of his people.
“You’re distracted, Daughter,” he said, and everyone turned to look at her. “What is troubling you?”
“No complaints, Your Grace.”
“Nonsense,” he said, smiling. “I know when my daughter is sad, and I won’t allow it. I’ll tell you what: ask me anything you wish, and I’ll give it to you. These men are my witnesses.”
Avery smiled, knowing he was just showing off. “You’ve been so generous with me, Majesty. Truly, I need nothing.”
The king shook his head. “There must be something. I don’t care how trivial or monumental. Name it!”
“Anything?” she said.
“See? I knew it!” the king said, barking a laugh. “Anything!”
“But what if it’s not within your power to—”
“My dear! My whole point is to display the breadth of my authority. If it takes my last breath, I’ll prove to you the unfettered reach of the crown.”
“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but what if I request something that violates protocol or breaks precedence?”
“You are looking at protocol, Daughter! Go on. Tell me and I’ll prove it to you! What do you want? I vow on my honor to grant whatever you wish.”
“And I can’t ask for anything that will make you regret—”
“I sacredly vow before all these witnesses that I will grant the next wish that comes from your mouth, but I’ll not ask again. Be quick, and don’t shortchange yourself.”
She studied him. Was this possible? Had she backed him into a corner from which he had no exit?
He turned back to his meal. “A pity that you could think of nothing, when all the power of the crown is avail—”
“Pardons for all the thirteen-year-olds in the dungeon.”
The king’s face went ashen, and his advisors seemed to freeze. “The rebels?” he said, his voice cracking.
“They were my friends before they were rebels,” she said, her resolve to not embarrass him having flown.
“But—but—they’re guilty of treason! Sedition! Crimes punishable by death.”
“That’s my wish, m’lord King.”
The advisors clucked and mumbled. The king silenced them. “It’s out of the question. Forgiving treason would make me look weak, destroy my reputation in the realm, and tell our enemies and other would-be rebels they can do whatever they want without consequences.”
“So there is a limit to your power,” Avery said, fearing she was burying herself.
“You’re a child. You’ll learn. One must think of the entire kingdom before he—”
“Sacredly vows something he cannot fulfill?”
“Watch your tongue, Daughter. I can keep any vow I choose. But what you suggest would be a foolish, fatal move.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion, Your Grace. It was my wish.”
The king’s eyes grew cold, as did his tone. “Pick something else—a piece of land for a garden anywhere you wish or a gem the jewelers can fashion into a new necklace. They’re already putting extra rubies in your crown.”
“Of course they are,” Avery said with a sad smile. “Thank you for your kindness.”
When finally the advisors took their leave, the king instructed the kitchen staff to leave him and his daughter and clean up later. He stared down the long, littered table at her. “You have embarrassed me for the last time,” he said.
“I apologize, Your Majesty. That was not my intent.”
“You didn’t goad me into promising you anything just so you could ask what you knew was impossible?”
“I did not.”
“You seriously thought a sitting king—with rebels under lock and key and enemy forces watching for any vulnerability—would just pardon an entire army of traitors?”
“I confess I didn’t consider all the ramifications, but I was sincere in my—”
“Then you are more naive and ignorant than I thought. You are not ready to arbitrate at court, though I do want you there tomorrow.”
“You do?”
“To squelch any rumors that may arise from the advisors who witnessed your impudence here.”
“I apologize, Your Majesty.”
�
�I accept, provided that you accede to one of my wishes.”
Avery couldn’t imagine having a choice, but she nodded. “If it’s within my ability…”
“I want to present you at Court tomorrow and officially introduce you to the realm.”
Midnight tomorrow was the deadline for releasing Thomas. “Are you sure, Your Grace? I—”
“I’ve wanted to do this anyway, but doing it tomorrow will stifle any suspicion on the part of my advisors that you and I are at odds.”
“I understand. As you wish.”
He stood. “Thank you, my dear. Now let’s put tonight behind us.”
Avery rose. “Tell me, sir, have I surrendered my right to have a wish granted?”
He seemed to study her. “That depends. Is it reasonable?”
“I think so.”
“I’m listening.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m wondering if you could see your way clear to pardon just one of the kids?”
The king’s face reddened, and his eyes flashed. “I’ve told you and told you, that boy was not among them, and he is not your broth—”
“I’m not talking about Henry, Your Highness.”
“Then whom? Certainly not the rebel leader!”
“No, sir. Another. He’s ill.”
“Let him die! He might find that more pleasant than the rope!”
“But he’s—”
“No! Releasing one because he’s sick would make all of them claim the same. Now I have spoken. There will be no pardons.”
Chapter 25
The Banquet
The next day, hundreds of festive flags flew and bells rang from every chapel in the land.
The Throne Room filled with elaborately dressed dignitaries who gathered around long wooden tables bearing platters of fruit and tall silver cups.
Wearing a shimmering emerald dress and her new crown, Avery waited outside her room for the king to arrive and escort her downstairs. The thunder of his processional preceded him, reverberating off the walls. Regally dressed but not limping so acutely as usual, the king seemed to use his cane more as an accessory.
“It’s funny,” he said as she joined him. “After all my years on the throne, my legacy will be determined here near the end of my reign. And what will I be remembered for?”
For a grand Olympiad that ended in an inferno, but clearly that was not on his mind. Avery shook her head.
He leaned close. “For a girl succeeding me on the throne.”
Avery could not imagine herself really becoming the queen. And, in truth, it was the last thing she wanted. But there was nothing wrong with a queen instead of a king, was there? “Would that be such a bad thing, Your Grace?”
He laughed. “That’s up to you.” And he offered his arm.
Avery was struck by the fact that he was not only walking better but also looking better, that color had returned to his face and a twinkle to his eyes. Before long he would be back to his healthy, vibrant self, and the need for an emergency heir would be long gone. That was more than fine with her.
He looked happy, and Avery was sad for him that he would never feel like a father to her.
They finally reached the great double-entry doors, and Avery could tell from the noise that the Hall was full.
The king took a deep breath and grinned at her. “I invited every imaginable diplomat. The world must know my throne is secure.”
Avery found herself happy for him, if not for herself. She squeezed his arm.
He said kindly, “Nothing to be afraid of now. Everyone wants to see the daughter of the king, and I’m proud to present you.”
Avery found herself strangely touched, though she felt like a masquerading fraud. She had no interest in royalty. In fact, the idea repulsed her. But still she whispered her thanks.
“Ready?” he said.
“Yes,” she said, her voice catching—but hardly for the reason he likely assumed.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came a voice from inside. “The king and Princess Avery!”
With a flourish of trumpets, the doors were flung open, and Avery entered on the arm of the most powerful man in the world, the packed room suddenly silent.
Men bowed and women curtsied all along the crimson carpet that led to the head table in the center. Aware that everyone was taking stock of her—inventorying information to whisper about later—Avery knew she was blushing from neck to hairline.
She second-guessed her choice of gown and wondered if she should have done something different with her hair. Queen Elizabeth had been such a beauty. The idea she might be compared with her sent dread up Avery’s spine. Her mother used to say, “What a woman wears should be the last thing anyone notices.”
Avery smiled kindly at everyone who made eye contact. When she finally sat, she was exhausted.
“The day I have long awaited has arrived,” the king called out to the audience, which seemed to lean forward to catch every word. “In an act of unparalleled providence, my daughter has been returned to me. Princess Avery is destined to become the greatest queen this world has ever known!”
No I’m not, she thought.
When the thunderous cheers and applause abated, the king added, “But not just yet. Not today!”
The crowd laughed and cried out, “Long live the king!”
“And now,” he said, “we feast!”
Everyone clapped as the king sat, but for a long moment nothing happened, and an awkward silence fell. He sought Avery’s eyes and whispered, “Did I forget to announce that we would feast?”
“That’s what you said, Your Grace.”
“Did the servers not hear me? This is embarrassing!”
“I’ll go check…”
“No!” he whispered desperately. “A princess never checks.” He stood again and shouted twice as loudly, “And now we feast!”
The doors creaked and a pair of servers hurried in, murmuring apologies and rushing to the king’s table, where they set down platters with a clank.
Pulling one close, the king demanded, “Where are the others?”
“There aren’t many of us in the kitchen anymore, Your Grace. We’re working as fast as we can.”
“Hurry!” he whispered, veins bulging on his forehead.
Weak music rose in one corner from what appeared a makeshift string ensemble with a couple of key instruments missing. The limited waitstaff rushed about serving thick meats in rich sauces, which bubbled under golden crusts, every imaginable fruit and delicacy arrayed on golden chargers and followed by trays of pastries.
But Avery lost her appetite when she couldn’t sip a drink or even bite into a piece of fruit without a tester sampling it first.
I never want to be queen. I want to go home.
As the afternoon became evening, the inadequacies of the staff became more obvious. Avery grew weary of the stares, whispers, and formalities and longed to return to her room. Time was running out on her deadline, and she needed to get back to the dungeon.
A jester appeared, signaling the end of the festivities, but he delivered his few pathetic jokes in a harsh monotone and skipped away to jeers and boos.
The king turned to Avery. “I apologize, my dear. This has been a nightmare. What has happened to the quality of the staff?”
“It was a nice event, Majesty,” she said, gathering herself for the recessional. Avery wished she could tell him the castle was better served when secretly staffed by thirteen-year-olds.
Just as the king planted his cane, the Great Hall went quiet. All eyes seemed to turn to the double doors. A woman had entered and stopped, badly underdressed in a dark, floor-length cloak, face hidden under a heavy hood, hands clasped, head down.
The room came alive with a buzz of whispers. Even the king appeared puzzled. “What’s happening, Daughter?” he said. “Is this part of the entertainment?”
“I don’t think so,” Avery said.
Something about the woman looked familiar. She was thinner than Aver
y expected, but her posture…
Could it be?
Chapter 26
Mystery Guest
The old woman in the tower prison had said Avery’s mother was alive. “Alive and well,” she’d said. “You’ll see!”
Whoever this was, for some reason the guards had let her pass.
The king appeared as transfixed as everyone else and whispered, “Am I going mad?”
“I see what you see,” Avery said.
He rose and called out, “You’ve intruded upon a royal occasion unannounced, m’lady. Show yourself!”
When the woman pulled back the hood and slowly raised her head, the hall erupted in shrieks and shouts.
“A vision!”
“Can it be?”
“A spirit!”
“She lives!”
“Sorcery!”
Gaunt and pale, yet still regal and bearing an aged beauty, there was no doubt. Queen Elizabeth stood before them.
Could it be the old woman had been referring to her, Avery’s mother by blood? Then what of the woman she knew as her mother, the woman who raised her?
Here Avery sat—in the same room with her real father and mother—yet she felt not an iota of love for either of them. Stunned that Elizabeth was alive, she prayed the same was true for her own mother.
The king looked stricken. Trembling, he began making his way—cane tapping the marble—toward his first wife, the woman everyone had assumed dead.
He extended a hand, and when she took it, he pressed a kiss onto her knuckles and, clearly shaken, turned back to the crowd.
“Rejoice with me! I am beyond words and shall now take my leave.”
Surrounded by guards, the king and queen left the hall, and—like everyone else, she assumed—Avery wished she could eavesdrop on the conversation that would ensue.
But though this event had been staged for her, the princess had suddenly become an afterthought, abandoned. Had the queen not known her long-lost daughter was there? Was she not curious what had become of her? Or did she already know?
In the chaos, Avery slipped out of the Great Hall unnoticed, fled to her room, and locked herself in. A couple of her ladies-in-waiting knocked at the door, but she assured them she needed nothing and dismissed them for the evening. If word came that she had suddenly again come to the minds of her so-called parents, she planned to ignore any summons till morning.
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