A Choice of Crowns

by Barb Hendee

  “Good day, my lords,” she said. “I will see you all at dinner.”

  I stood as well and followed her out of the council chambers. Only when we reached the corridor to the south towers did she stop and lean against one wall, breathing deeply.

  “Have you been planning for this since you gave me that fief?” I asked.

  She took her hand off the wall. “Rowan taught me to play chess when I was thirteen years old. Since then, he and I played countless games. Success in chess depends upon the player best capable of examining the board and visualizing outcomes up to four moves ahead.” She looked at me. “In my many games with Rowan, who do you think most often won?”

  I’d never given this any thought, but I did now.

  * * * *

  To describe the weeks that followed as “strained” would have an understatement. In all fairness, even I understood the reticence of the council in regards to my chancellorship. For the kingdom’s twelve most powerful noblemen, the prospect of being ruled by two women they viewed as girls would have been nearly unbearable.

  Reactions among them ranged from concern to bitter rage—with most expressing the latter. Baron Augustine and Lord Cloutier were only slightly more amenable because they agreed with Ashton’s decision regarding Samourè. But given the fact that Cloutier was sixty-five years old, and Baron Augustine was not far behind him, I think they worried more about our age than our gender. However, Lords Moreau and Paquet made it clear that her decision in my appointment had cast her in the role of a novice girl playing at being queen. Normally, Lords du Guay and Sauvage were at each other’s throats, but in this matter, they joined forces in their anger.

  To make matters worse, Ashton had promised to be guided and counseled by them in all things, and as a result, they’d helped walk her up the red carpet, and Lord Cloutier placed a crown upon her head. Now, all the council felt betrayed.

  And yet…she did not back down.

  Together, she and I sat at the front of common court, and we saw to the management of the city while the council worked with her regarding the management of the kingdom. She wrote to King Amandine herself to open discussions regarding the border raids. Jarvis now served as her personal secretary.

  I did note one oddity in relation to the council. Now that the coronation was over, I expected most of the men to pack up and ride home to their own estates for a few months—to gather again in the autumn. But they didn’t. No one left. The entire council remained at court as if they feared leaving Ashton and me at the helm.

  Rumors were floated that a few of them even hoped the people would revolt at my appointment.

  They did not.

  The people of Partheney were accustomed to seeing me on the dais beside Ashton. They knew I listened to the merchants and artisans. No one objected to my appointment.

  There was also one man in the castle from whom we held full support: Micah.

  He treated me as chancellor from day one, and I noticed small things, such as guards in the entry carefully leaning around corners to watch me walk down corridors, as if assuring my safety from one end to the other. This was Micah’s way of protecting me. As opposed to feeling resentment, I was grateful. I had no wish for Lord Sauvage to step from an alcove and catch me alone.

  However…for me, Micah was becoming a distraction in other ways. It was nothing he did, but rather that when he stood close to me for any reason, I had trouble concentrating on matters at hand. I found myself caught up in his light brown eyes or the soft blond hair around his mouth. I’d forget what we were discussing and notice the sinews in his forearms.

  It was all quite foolish, and I vowed stronger self-discipline.

  So, although it was not exactly smooth sailing, Ashton and I slowly began settling into our roles as joint leaders.

  The first awkward encounter we faced came from an unexpected corner.

  In writing, she handled the tenuous Samourè situation with grace and diplomacy, exchanging letters with King Amandine and assuring him of her support in any fashion he felt best in stopping the border raids. He paid reparations, and Ashton had the money sent to families who’d been affected so they might rebuild and buy livestock. She then sent Colonel Marlowe, who commanded our northern border guard, into Samourè to coordinate with their own guard.

  Within a month, the issue was under control.

  Unfortunately, Ashton’s grace and diplomacy produced an unexpected side effect: King Amandine asked to reopen marriage negotiations, and rather than submitting the proposal to Ashton herself, he sent an envoy to speak to the council.

  To complicate matters, the Council of Nobles was torn. Half the men were so uncomfortable being ruled by a young woman that they were ready to entertain the thought of a foreign king. The other half—led by Sauvage—were more opposed to the prospect of a foreign king than being led by Ashton.

  And that was saying something.

  I learned all of this later. Apparently, tempers flared the day the proposal was delivered, and a shouting match ensued.

  Ashton wasn’t told until that evening before dinner, when she and I arrived in the great hall to sip a goblet of wine and visit with the other nobles. Lords Moreau and Cloutier were the messengers, and I very much wish I’d been warned ahead of time. Both men were on the side of Amandine.

  Upon hearing of the proposal, Ashton’s expression went blank. “No,” she said immediately. “You will politely decline and send the envoy back.”

  “But, my queen,” Lord Cloutier sputtered, shocked at her instant refusal. “You should consider the possible advantages of such an arrangement. And you must marry, to found a line of heirs.”

  “No,” she repeated. “Not Amandine.” Then she walked away.

  Of course, I agreed with her. Amandine was already a king in his own right, and he would expect to rule here should they marry. Ashton could not hand her power over to him, but the speed and finality of her decision weren’t wise.

  She should have nodded and tilted her head and thanked Lords Cloutier and Moreau and assured them she would give the proposal all proper consideration. Then she should have pretended to labor over the decision for at least a week, and finally refused on the grounds of concern over Amandine’s possible ambitions to rule our kingdom. At least half the council would have supported her fully and the other half would have been forced to at least respect the carefully made decision.

  But she’d simply said, “No,” and walked away. Even Lord Sauvage—who opposed the idea of this marriage with every fiber in his being—watched this response with interest. It was the first time she’d not behaved as a queen.

  I sometimes wondered if her prior life under Rowan’s thumb had affected her in ways she couldn’t openly acknowledge. Her deep love for him negated any criticism of him on her part, and yet he’d bullied and manipulated her into shunning relationships with anyone other than with himself.

  Now that he was gone, she appeared to react out of instinct when threatened with losing her independence.

  In the end, the envoy was sent back with a polite refusal on the grounds that Ashton had only recently been crowned and was not yet entertaining marriage proposals. This would leave Amandine with enough hope to ensure his good behavior.

  But…the council had been forced to smooth over this unfortunate affair, and Ashton had handled it badly. It faded from court discussion within a few weeks, but I feared it might come back later to haunt her.

  * * * *

  By autumn, the entire council was still in residence, as were many of their wives, and at dinner one evening, Lord Sauvage casually delivered a piece of news.

  His son, Guy, a lieutenant in the royal military, would be coming to court over the winter solstice holidays.

  “He’s serving on the northern border under Colonel Marlowe,” said Lord Sauvage, “but he has a month’s leave coming up. It will be good to
see him.”

  Ashton nodded politely, but I wanted to wince. That was all we needed, another arrogant Sauvage at court throwing his weight around.

  Still, Guy held no real power, and I put the thought of him from my head.

  I was dealing with a situation of more personal impact. My father had written to me in regards to a land dispute with a neighbor on the western border of our estate. He asked me to intervene in his favor and suggested that if I could not succeed from Partheney, he’d need to call me home to be of assistance.

  Was this a threat?

  Even though I functioned as the kingdom’s chancellor, I was still technically under my father’s authority. I decided to speak to Ashton and have the matter handled for him. But I worried about the precedent this set. What might he ask for next?

  I was troubled as I left the hall that night and made my way up to my rooms.

  Faithful Kamilla waited for me, and she helped me undress and let down my hair.

  “Good night, my lady,” she said. “I must go and see to the queen, now.”

  “Good night,” I answered, “and thank you.”

  She left, and I went to turn down my bed.

  A knock sounded on my door.

  Upon opening it, I found a serving girl on the other side. “Forgive me, my lady. Captain Caron sends word that your mare is ill. He asks that you come to the stable to approve treatment.”

  “Meesha is ill?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know, my lady. A guard downstairs came with the message.”

  Meesha had remained here when Captain Reynaud departed with the rest of my family’s guards. Back home, I rode her several times a week, but there was plenty of room on our estate. Here, there was little opportunity for riding, but Micah had assured me that she was well cared for and the men were taking her out for exercise.

  I felt remiss in not having visited her sooner.

  “I’ll be down to the stable directly,” I told the girl.

  She nodded and left.

  Though I was in my nightgown, I didn’t bother getting fully re-dressed. Instead, I tied on a cloak to cover myself and donned a pair of boots.

  Leaving my room, I made my way downstairs and then outside into the courtyard. The hour must have been near midnight, and I worried that Meesha must be very ill if Micah had sent a messenger all the way to the south tower for me.

  Crossing the courtyard, I passed a few guards on night duty, but they simply nodded a bow as I walked by. I was chancellor here.

  Upon reaching the new stable, I lifted a candle lantern off one wall and walked toward the back. With the exception of the horses hanging their heads over the tops of stalls to greet me, there was no one here.

  “Micah?” I called.

  Where was he?

  I found Meesha located near the back, and she whickered at the sight of me. I felt even more remiss and opened the door to her stall, stroking her nose. Though eager for my attention, she seemed well, and my puzzlement grew.

  A footstep sounded behind me, and I looked back.

  There stood a tall guard I did not know, but I’d often seen him in the company of Lord Sauvage. His expression was intense, and he held a dagger in his right hand. Everything suddenly made sense. Meesha was not ill, and Micah had not sent for me. I’d been lured down to the solitude of the stable.

  There was a bucket of water on the floor of Meesha’s stall. In a flash, I reached down and grabbed hold of the handle as my assassin charged. When he reached me, I swung hard, catching him with the bucket, knocking the dagger from his hand and splashing cold water on him. As he stumbled to one side in surprise, I threw shame to the wind and screamed as long and loudly as I could.

  Twisting back around, he saw the dagger on the floor about ten paces to his left, and then his eyes moved back to me. He was a trained soldier and would not need a blade to end my life. Whirling, I dashed for the front doors as fast as my long legs could run, praying to reach them before he caught me.

  Just before I reached them, a strong hand caught my hair and jerked me backward. A breath later, I was on the floor and his hands were around my neck. My airflow was cut off. Grasping his wrists, I tried to pull his hands away, but his fingers only tightened and his thumbs pressed down at the base of my throat. The pain was intense, and the walls around me began to fade as I choked and struggled.

  A loud crashing sound echoed around me, followed by a roar.

  “Faucher!”

  The guard flew backward off me, and I gasped for air, still choking. I looked over to see Micah slam my attacker into a wall and then thrust forward with a sword, driving the blade into the man’s chest.

  Other guards ran in the doors.

  Micah jerked his sword from my attacker’s chest, and the man fell dead to the floor. The incoming guards stared at this with wide eyes.

  “Sir?” one of them asked.

  “He attacked Lady Olivia,” Micah spat, striding back to me.

  I was still on the floor, fighting for air, and he dropped by my side, drawing my torso up into his arms.

  “Olivia,” he said. “Try to breathe slower. Take slower breaths.”

  I tried to do as he asked, and soon, more air passed into my lungs. Reaching out with his left arm, he moved to scoop me up, but I stopped him with one hand to his chest.

  “No,” I whispered. “I can walk.”

  I didn’t care to be seen being carried though the castle.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Yes, just get me up to my rooms.”

  * * * *

  With no thought to propriety, Micah took me inside my apartments and closed the door.

  “Sit down,” he ordered.

  I sat, and he untied my cloak, letting it fall back so he could examine my throat. Somehow, it didn’t feel strange to be sitting here in my nightgown, alone with him.

  “Can you breathe without difficulty?” he asked, lightly touching the hollow above my collarbone. “Do your bones hurt here?”

  His voice was taut, and I could hear underlying fear. Was he so concerned for me?

  “I can breathe,” I answered. Thanks to him. “You heard my scream?”

  “Yes…but I could not believe what I saw. Faucher was bribed…How could a royal guard be bribed?” He closed his eyes. “And I stupidly killed him. Now he cannot be questioned.”

  He sounded as if he was speaking to himself, but I answered.

  “He was most likely not bribed. The dowager assured me royal guards could not be bribed, but she managed to convince two of them to let Ashton be taken out the castle gates on the day she was abducted.”

  Micah opened his eyes, stood, and stepped away from me. “What?”

  I stood as well. “Genève told me that she appealed to their sense of patriotism. They believed they were doing the right thing for the kingdom. I’m sure Lord Sauvage tried the same tactic tonight. You should not even attempt to pursue Sauvage with no proof, but I suspect this was how he convinced Faucher to act. Remove me, and Ashton would be left to face the council alone…and under the control of the council more patriotic decisions might be made.”

  “No,” Micah whispered.

  I knew this was hurting him, but an attempt on my life had been made, and he needed all the facts.

  Putting his hands on his head, Micah turned all the way around once. His world had shifted, and I couldn’t help but pity him. Rowan was dead. The dowager queen was dead. The council did not support Ashton’s rule. One of his own trusted men had just attempted to strangle me, and he could not risk accusing Lord Sauvage without proof.

  “You never should have come here,” he said quietly, “into this nest of vipers. You should have married some young viscount in the south, with a vineyard, and grown grapes and raised children, and lived your life in peace away from all
of this.”

  “And had I done that, what would have become of Ashton?”

  A mix of pain and longing flashed across his eyes.

  He closed the distance between us, grasping my face in his hands and pressing his mouth against mine. Though his kiss was gentle, a jolt ran through my body, and I kissed him back with hunger. No man had ever put his mouth against mine, and the sensation washed through me in waves.

  Wanting more, I reached up to touch him.

  Without warning, he wrenched away, and his voice filled with anguish. “I can’t do this, not to you. We’ll never get permission to marry, and if I stay here tonight and we’re found out, you’ll be ruined.”

  Wrapping my hands around the back of his neck, I whispered. “I don’t care. Do you hear me? I don’t care.”

  Then I touched my mouth to his again, and he was lost.

  * * * *

  An hour before dawn, I lay naked in his arms, in my bed. My body was spent and sated, and I marveled that no one had ever told me the joy two people could experience together.

  I ran my hands up his bare chest and heard his sharp intake of breath.

  “Don’t start that again,” he said softly. “I have to leave before the servants wake.”

  Though he sounded pained to admit this, he was right. I was the lady Olivia Géroux, chancellor to the queen, and he was commander of the castle guard. Even a hint of connection between us would cause a scandal deafening enough to ruin us both.

  And yet, I kissed him again.

  He kissed me back.

  But time was our enemy, and we went no further than this final kiss. Not long after, he dressed himself and slipped from my room.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I was in love…madly, recklessly in love.

  Micah and I couldn’t get enough of each other, and could not stop ourselves from taking risks. We weren’t entirely foolish, and never again met alone in my apartments, nor did we often meet at night when I might be watched. But he had a private room at the back of the barracks.