by Barb Hendee
I stared at her. She knew the given names of some mason and his wife out in the city? Thinking back to the events of the morning, I realized she had not been feeding Rowan snippets of gossip. She actually knew what was happening with the people outside this castle wall.
“Princess,” another woman called. “Do you think there is enough flour loaded?”
“I’m coming,” Ashton called back.
She headed over to check the wagon. With little choice, I started toward the back of the barn. Cloth for nappies? What exactly was I seeking? I knew that babies wore cloths. I’d simply never seen such a cloth.
But I’d only taken a few steps when a serving woman came through the open front doors and approached me.
“Lady Olivia.” She bowed her head. “Captain Caron said I might find you here.”
“Yes?” I asked, wondering what she wanted.
“The dowager queen requests your company for tea. It is being served as we speak.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thank you. Please wait so that you might show me to her apartments.”
Turning, I called, “Princess, I fear I must leave you. Your mother is asking for me.”
“Of course,” she called back. “I can manage here.”
With another sigh of gratitude, I left the barn.
Chapter Four
Genève’s apartments were exactly what I expected.
I entered her rooms in the nearest south tower to find her seated on a low velvet couch. She wore a gown of deep red today, with her hair piled up.
There were a number of couches in this main chamber, suggesting she often hosted gatherings here. She had her own large hearth, and the furnishings were opulent, from the thick carpets to the marble-tiled tables. Vases of roses graced three tables, and a porcelain tea set rested on the table directly in front of her. As she began pouring the tea, I saw a plate of small cakes with cinnamon-crumble topping. How very civilized.
“My dear,” she said. “Come and sit.”
Her voice held no warmth, and in spite of the opulent surroundings, I had the feeling I was walking into the dragon’s lair.
“My queen,” I said with deference, as I sat down on a couch across from her.
She handed me a cup of tea. “After spending an evening and morning in this castle, do you believe yourself up to the task of completing a marriage with my son?”
Accepting the cup, I tried not to react. Had her gloves finally come off? Were we about to engage in a frank conversation? I hoped so.
“I believe myself up to the task,” I answered, “so long as I understand the obstacle. As of yet, I cannot see my obstacle.”
“Can you not?” Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you’re not clever as you seem.” Then she sighed and sat back. “No, you are clever. You’re simply too well-bred to see the truth, and that is not a shortcoming.”
I was tired of mincing words, and met her gaze evenly without speaking.
She leaned forward again. “Has the prospect of another woman not occurred to you?”
I tensed. It had not. From what I’d seen and heard, Rowan had no romantic connections. If this was the truth, it could be a problem if he was hiding a mistress from the noble classes. And if she wasn’t noble—and therefore not a real threat—why would Genève bring it up? Suddenly, I was afraid. I’d come here with no plan to fail, but if, somehow, I did fail, I’d be sent home to the triumph of my sisters and the retribution of my father.
“Another woman?” I asked tightly.
“Rowan has called a formal meeting of the council in three days’ time. There, he will inform them of his plans to marry Princess Ashton.”
At first, I felt nothing, as I could not have heard her correctly. But I had. “Princess Ashton?” I repeated in disbelief. “That…that is impossible. She’s his sister.”
“They share no blood. They have no blood relation to each other whatsoever. Still, the council will revolt, and they’ll never approve such a reckless proposal. Rowan has sworn he will take his news to the people and announce the engagement publicly. This will have one of two results. Either the people will be shocked and view the marriage as incestuous…or worse, they will not.”
For a moment, I didn’t follow her meaning, and then it hit me. Rowan had been crowned king because the council had placed him on the throne as Ashton’s elder brother. Though he was Eduard’s adopted son, over the years, he had become the “king’s son” in the collective consciousness of the people. Should Rowan stand up publicly and remind everyone that Ashton was not his sister by blood…would he still have a right to the throne? Would his right to rule be brought into question?
As if reading my face, Genève nodded. “You see, my dear. He cannot be allowed to do this.”
“Does the council know what he’s about to suggest?”
“Some suspect. I think Moreau especially. But no one knows for certain.”
“Rowan has told all of this to you, though? He’s told you this plan himself?”
“In great detail,” she answered bitingly, showing emotion for the first time. “We’ve engaged in several heated arguments.”
A larger question loomed, and I nearly gasped at the thought. “Does Ashton know?”
Genève shook her head. “That is what surprises me most. She’s not as simple as she appears, but in this matter, she has no idea. She views him as her beloved elder brother and would be as shocked by this as anyone.”
I allowed myself to breathe. “Then what is the concern? She would refuse him.”
Genève tilted her head, and her expression shifted to disappointment—in me. “Really, my dear. Have you not have observed them together? He has only to snap his fingers, and she will do anything he says. She lives in his shadow, and she’ll refuse him nothing.”
I went cold.
Genève spoke the truth. Ashton might be horrified at the thought of marrying a man she viewed as her brother, but in the end, she’d follow any order he gave. What was to be done?
“I thought I had solved the problem before your arrival,” Genève continued. “But your men blundered into that, and you brought her back with you.”
The coldness settled in my stomach. “What do you mean?”
“Negotiations between myself and Prince Amandine of Samourè have concluded. His father is dead and his own coronation is imminent. It’s a good match for Ashton. The council has approved. Only Rowan has refused to agree.”
I still didn’t follow this entirely, but an ugly suspicion formed in the back of my thoughts.
“Yes,” Genève said, again as if reading my face. “I arranged for her abduction. I paid those men to take her from the stable on a morning I knew she’d be alone. Rowan was busy that day, and he wouldn’t notice her absence until dinner.”
“But how did her captors get her out the castle gates?”
“The guards let them out. I told you that I’d arranged this. I would leave nothing so important to chance.”
“You bribed royal guards?”
Her body went rigid. “I did not. When you are queen, if you ever find a royal guard who can be bribed, you will have him executed on the spot. I picked two men who can be trusted, explained the situation, and appealed to both their patriotism and loyalty to Rowan. The men love him more than they loved his father. Rowan is not afraid to use military force when necessary, and they want him on the throne. I promised them Ashton would not be harmed, and she would be delivered safely to her new husband.”
I was reeling. Two of Ashton’s own guards had been convinced to let paid ruffians take her out the castle gates. Genève must wield more power than I’d realized.
An uncomfortable thought occurred to me—though I don’t know why it should make me uncomfortable. “Did Captain Caron know?”
“Micah? No. He is as devoted to Ashton as he is to Rowan. Micah’s
father served in the guard before Ashton was born. He watched her grow up. He can never be taken into this confidence. Remember that.”
For some reason, this made me glad. I wasn’t sure why.
But…Genève was right about me. My men and I had blundered upon Ashton and brought her back.
“She’d have been married before Rowan even learned where she was,” Genève continued. “And the path for you would have been secured.”
I was not about to apologize. “So, what happens now?”
She leaned again. “Prince Amandine still wishes to marry her, although in order to gain approval from our council, he had to make territorial concessions that did not please his own council. I will need to arrange for Ashton’s removal from this court.”
“Another abduction?”
“No, I cannot play that card again. But don’t think on it. I’ll handle this matter so long as you can promise me one thing.”
“And what is that?”
“If I clear your way, and the council puts enough pressure on Rowan that he agrees to marry you, can you tie yourself to a man who will never care for you? Rowan has had several mistresses over the years, no one of consequence, just women to sate the needs of his body. But he’s never cared for any woman except Ashton. I don’t believe he will ever love anyone else. Can you stomach that for the rest of your life?”
Could I stomach life with a man who cared nothing for me in order to obey my father…and to be queen?
Absolutely.
I nodded. “I can.”
She smiled. “Good. Then I’ll handle the rest. But be ready. Developments will be swift. We have only three days.”
* * * *
Dinner that night was less strained.
For one, it was a much smaller affair with only the royal family and the families of the council. But also, Genève seated me between herself and Lord Moreau, and she did not expect me to try to establish polite conversation with the king. I understood why. We were in a holding pattern now until whatever method she’d devised to send Ashton to Samourè could be set into motion.
Rowan continued to ignore my existence, but I didn’t care. I would be his queen soon enough.
Not long after dinner, he called to Ashton, and they left the great hall.
“Shall we join them?” Genève asked Lord Moreau and me.
In mild confusion, I looked to him.
“By all means,” he said, “though I hope that suggests a game of cards?”
“It does,” she answered. “But not for money. I know your wife isn’t here on this visit, but I did so promise her.”
“You crush my spirit,” he said lightly.
I walked with the two of them down the north corridor and spotted an archway ahead. Through the arch, I found myself in a small room with a burning hearth, and several tables set up. Rowan and Ashton were playing chess.
He ignored our entrance.
“What about a game of Jacks and Kings?” Lord Moreau asked.
I spent half the night playing cards with him and the dowager queen while sitting not ten paces from my future husband—who never glanced our way—and everyone at my table continued to pretend nothing was amiss.
Despite my earlier promise, which I had meant, this was growing rather wearing.
The following morning, I slept until nearly noon, then I sent for Kamilla. I’d been invited to tea and an embroidery party in the queen’s apartments. All the noblewomen currently residing at the castle would attend.
Today, I chose a gown of fine wool. I thought something simple might be best for a gathering of women. Although embroidery was not my passion, I understood its social importance and always had something ready inside a round wooden frame.
When I arrived at the queen’s chamber, seven women were already present, but they appeared comfortable with each other. Lord Paquet’s wife, Elizabeth, was a plump woman in her late thirties. As she stood by the tea table, I noted her kind face.
“Come in, my lady,” she said upon seeing me. “Have you broken your fast? We have some fine cakes and sandwiches.”
I was hungry. After setting down my embroidery frame, I moved to join her.
The dowager was close by, chatting with Lord Sauvage’s wife, Miranda. Lord Sauvage was a hard-natured man with a reputation as a warmonger. He’d not chosen his wife for her sweet nature, and I had learned to be cautious in Miranda’s company. I’d just picked up a plate when she asked, “Is the princess not joining us?”
Genève hesitated and then her face broke into a smile. “I was going to wait, but I fear I will burst if I don’t share my joy. The princess will not be joining us today, as she has more important matters. She is readying herself for a journey, for a new life. Matters have been settled with Prince Amandine, and he has sent a retinue to bring her home. They arrive the day after tomorrow. My darling girl will soon be queen of Samourè.”
Excited voices broke out all around as the women flocked to congratulate Genève.
For myself…I didn’t know what to make of this. Why hadn’t she told me yesterday? Amandine had sent a retinue, and Ashton would simply leave? Could it be so easy? What if Rowan refused to let her go?
But I had no idea what Genève had planned, and it was in my own interest to do nothing to question or hinder her. So I smiled and flocked with the other women, expressing my pleasure over Princess Ashton’s betrothal.
Inwardly, I wished I understood Genève’s plans better.
Somehow, I managed to eat tiny sandwiches, drink tea, and work on embroidery until it was time to dress for dinner, and then I excused myself. The dowager queen’s apartments were in a south tower, and my own were in a west tower, so I made my way down the curving stone stairwell to the ground floor.
Then I slowed my pace, as my father had taught me. The corridor I entered contained several alcoves, and I must walk silently and slowly. Most assignations of note took place inside alcoves. Men and women could not meet in each other’s rooms. Being discovered in a private bedchamber could be disastrous, but being stumbled upon in an alcove might be explained. My father taught me that vast amounts of useful information could be gleaned through a mix of silence and attention—and always watching the alcoves. Knowledge was power, and power meant both survival and reward. By the age of fourteen, I was so advanced in this skill that I learned my older sister, Margareta, was involved in a tryst with a handsome guard.
I was able to blackmail her for six months before she managed to have the guard dismissed and thereby remove any form of corroboration should I decide to tell Father. But it was a sweet six months, and I thought her a fool for having been caught out so easily. Father had taught her the same tricks. She should have been wise enough to avoid an alcove.
By now, the practice was second nature to me, and I didn’t even think about it as I walked slowly and silently down the corridor.
Then…a voice coming from just up ahead stopped me.
“They can’t. They cannot do this.”
It was Rowan.
“It’s already done. Mother has begun arrangements for my dowry.”
Ashton.
There was an alcove to the left side of the corridor twelve paces from me. Wooden balustrades had been set two to each side of a narrow archway. Cautiously, I approached until I could peek between the corner and one balustrade and see into the alcove.
Ashton stood up against a wall with her hands clasped in front of her. By her tearstained face, she had been crying. Rowan stood in the center of the small space. He was breathing hard, and his fists were clenched.
“I won’t let them take you,” he said.
“You knew this day would come,” she answered. The pain in her voice was clear. “I’m to be married to Prince Amandine. Mother has completed the negotiations. The council has approved. The retinue is on its way.”
�
�Do you want to leave here? To leave me?”
“No! You know I don’t, but neither do I wish you to go against the council and make enemies of your own nobles, nor do I wish you to start an international incident. I am a princess, and princesses are married to improve foreign ties. The deal is done, Rowan. There is nothing you can do to stop it.”
His entire body went still, and then he nodded. “There is.”
Striding three steps, he grasped her by the back of the head and pressed his mouth down hard over hers. I held in a breath, shocked as he forced her teeth apart with his tongue.
She struggled in his grip, making panicked sounds and trying to push him away.
He reached behind her back with one hand and tore loose her lacings. She let out a muffled cry and managed to pull her mouth from his.
“Stop! Rowan, please, stop.”
He kissed her harder, and I realized he wasn’t going to stop. He was going to force himself on her, and then openly admit what he’d done. He would not be the first nobleman to try this. She’d be ruined for Prince Amandine, and Rowan would be in a better position to insist on a marriage to her himself—after he’d violated her. I had to stop this or my own future would be lost.
A loud tearing sounded as he ripped the cloth of the back of her gown.
She was fighting and sobbing at the same time, but he didn’t seem to notice. An unfamiliar feeling rushed up inside me. How could he do this? He who claimed to love her? She was so fragile, and he was hurting her.
Backstepping six silent paces, I began to walk forward normally, letting my footsteps be heard and humming a tune I’d learned as a child.
As I passed the alcove, I stopped as if surprised to see anyone inside. Thankfully, Rowan had heard someone coming and stepped away from Ashton, but he was still breathing hard.
Ashton’s face was wild and lost, and she held one side of her bodice halfway up her shoulder.
“Ashton,” I said with a friendly tone, using the familiarity of her given name on purpose. “There you are. I was looking for you. I wanted your opinion on my gown for this evening.”
Considering the sight before me, my empty chatter was absurd, but it didn’t matter.