A Choice of Crowns

by Barb Hendee

  The life of the city pulsed around me, and white clouds floated overhead in a blue sky. I felt…free. Micah stretched out his long legs and ate three of the rolls.

  A small white dog with long ears sat on the ground near a table occupied by several merchants. Upon spotting Micah, it came trotting over, wagging its tail and begging with a whine.

  “This little one seems to know you,” I said, smiling and breaking off a bite of my sausage for our visitor.

  The dog took it carefully from my fingers.

  “Yes, he knows me,” Micah answered, stroking the dog’s head.

  One of the merchants looked over as if concerned the animal was bothering us, but Micah waved him off. “It’s fine, Pierre. He’s no trouble.” Then Micah looked at me. “You like dogs?”

  “Yes,” I nodded, thinking back to my childhood with a fresh stab of loss.

  “What is it?” he asked, concerned.

  “It’s nothing. It’s just…”

  And as we sat there, I found myself telling him all about my dog, Emma, from the time I was a young child to the night she died.

  He listened.

  * * * *

  That evening, as I walked into the great hall before dinner, I was still awash in the glow of the afternoon, and my mind kept over going the sights I’d seen and things I’d told Micah—that I’d never told anyone else.

  I was not paying much attention to the people around me until I saw Rowan and Ashton drawn off together near the hearth. He had hold of her arm. Her head was down, and he spoke angrily into her ear.

  While the sight of this wasn’t exactly new, I noticed something in her profile, perhaps a hint of anger. But she nodded several times as he spoke, until he let go of her arm.

  A moment later, Lord Sauvage walked up to them and engaged Rowan in conversation. Ashton stepped back unnoticed, and then she saw me. After a quick glance at Rowan, who was distracted, she slipped away and came to me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing of much consequence. But the king is displeased with me. Several times this week, I have been wanted for one reason or another, and I’ve not been found in my apartments. Messengers have been sent to the old stable. There is much to be done in preparation for winter.” She sighed. “Today, a new tapestry that Rowan commissioned was finished, and he wanted my assistance in choosing where to hang it in his apartments.”

  “And?”

  “I couldn’t be found. I’d decided to go out with the wagons myself down to the docks for delivery. I know the fishermen’s families better than Emilee. Micah was off duty, so I asked Lieutenant Arye to escort me.”

  “And Rowan is angry because you couldn’t be found and you were down on the docks without Micah?”

  She nodded. “I was perfectly safe, but he’s insisting I give up much of my work and remain here inside the castle during the days.”

  This troubled me. Ashton been forced into both a marriage and a role not of her choosing, and now Rowan wanted her to give up the one task that was most important to her?

  “Will you give it up?”

  “No. I’ll try to help him understand how important it is that I’m at the heart of this work. We need the nobles and the merchants, and a familiarity with those in need.”

  I was about to say more when Rowan noticed her gone.

  Looking back at us, he crooked his arm. “Ashton.”

  She hurried back to him.

  I was still worrying about her when I noticed Lady Miranda and Lady Elizabeth beside me, looking at me askance. Both their husbands had decided to remain in residence through autumn.

  “My ladies,” I said carefully.

  Lady Miranda cleared her throat. Though just beginning to show her age, she looked magnificent tonight in purple satin. “My dear,” she said. “Please don’t think us unkind, but we thought to have a word.”

  Now I was on guard. This was the female equivalent to drawing daggers.

  “Yes?” I answered.

  Lady Elizabeth stepped closer. “Olivia, you were seen…coming back through the castle gates today, alone in the company of Captain Caron. Word has it you were gone all afternoon.”

  Word had it? Word certainly traveled fast.

  “He asked to show me a bit of the city, and I agreed. I’ve not been outside nor seen any of our fair city since my arrival.”

  “That may be true,” Lady Miranda said. “But surely you know the dangers of inciting gossip?” She leaned closer. “Your prospects here are limited now. It’s possible the queen may be able to arrange an acceptable marriage for you, a second son at best, but she will not have even that option if you ruin yourself.”

  I felt a chill. An acceptable marriage? Is that what Ashton was attempting to arrange for me, a marriage to some nobleman’s second son? Perhaps she saw this as the only way to keep me out of Arullian’s hands. If she was the one who proposed the marriage, my father might not be able to refuse.

  But I had no desire to spend my life with a man to whom I’d be expected to show constant gratitude…someone who had taken the king’s leavings and given her a home and a minor position.

  “I thank you,” I said, curtsying, “for your counsel.”

  Then I walked away, wishing I did not have to stay for dinner. I wasn’t hungry.

  * * * *

  Another month passed, and Ashton said nothing.

  I felt as if I were caught in limbo, but each day, I was relieved when she did not announce that she’d found some second son who had agreed to marry me. But I’d also begun to worry more about her than about myself. Rowan did not relent in his belief that she must curb her time working with the poor, and she had taken to spending more time in the castle, but this weighed upon her, and I noticed that lost expression on her face more often.

  Several times, I walked to the new stable to visit Meesha. Nearly every time I did this, Micah somehow noticed, and he would join me, but he didn’t again ask me to walk with him into the city. Perhaps he knew I’d have to refuse.

  Then, one afternoon, Ashton arranged an embroidery circle in her apartments, and she’d invited any noblewomen currently residing at the castle. Upon arriving, I noticed a difference in Ashton. She was animated, even smiling.

  “Ashton?” I asked.

  “Wait a bit,” she whispered.

  My curiosity grew.

  Once all the ladies were seated with tea, Ashton sat on a couch and beamed at us. “I have news of a happy event.” She touched her stomach.

  She was with child.

  A rush of emotions passed through me. I was glad for her, but a surge of pettiness also rose up—it should be me sitting on that couch, smiling and announcing the pending birth of the next royal heir.

  Angrily, I pushed the thought away. She would want me to share in her joy.

  Hurrying to her side, I grasped her hand.

  “I’ll need you when my time comes,” she said.

  “I will be there.”

  * * * *

  Around this point, a routine began to develop. Rowan always dressed for dinner in his own rooms, and Ashton liked to have me in her apartments to help choose her gown or visit while Kamilla did her hair.

  Though pregnancy agreed with her, she now clung to me a little more, as if in need of my strength. I hoped I still had strength to give. She would not speak of my future, and I felt I couldn’t press her.

  My father still had not called me home.

  Autumn was upon us. One night, Ashton and I were in her apartments in the hour before dinner. I was already dressed, but decided to wear my hair down, and Kamilla left us to run to my room to fetch my silver clip.

  Ashton and I were in her sitting room, and she was suffering a little from feeling queasy.

  “Olivia, I’m not sure I should wear my blue silk tonight,” she said. �
��Kamilla laid it out, but I think it’s too tight. Would you go see if the red velvet has been pressed?”

  Leaving her for a moment, I walked to the bedroom to check her wardrobe. I’d just begun to search for her red velvet gown when I heard the sound of the outer door opening, followed by Rowan’s low voice. I couldn’t make out his words.

  But I stopped moving, for fear of making any sound.

  He didn’t know anything of my evening visits here, and Ashton had been adamant that we do nothing to call me to his attention.

  I would remain in here and hope that he’d leave soon.

  “What?” Ashton asked loudly, sounding aghast. “Rowan, you can’t. He’s wrong. Tell him no. Tell him you won’t do it!”

  She sounded so distressed that I moved silently to the bedroom doorway to better hear them, but I remained out of sight.

  “He’s not wrong,” Rowan returned. “If we don’t retaliate by force, we’ll appear weak, and we’ll open our borders for further attacks.”

  “He is wrong,” she said. “Lord Sauvage thinks all solutions can be found at the point of a sword. But to invade Samourè? Have you thought about what that would mean? We’d need to raise taxes. Our people won’t willingly go to war over an issue that could be easily solved, and if you can’t convince them, you’ll need to resort to conscriptions. Think on what bad feelings that will cause! Think of the innocent people of Samourè who will suffer. Think of our own men who will die needlessly.”

  I’d never once heard her argue with him, and I held my breath.

  The sitting room went quiet, and then Rowan said, “I put in the order to raise taxes yesterday. We cannot appear as weak.”

  “You raised taxes on our people? Without even consulting me?”

  His voice rose. “And how would I consult you? You weren’t here! You were down in that stable doing the gods know what, probably lifting more than you should and risking our child! You care more for the children of poor fishermen than your own! If you stopped all that nonsense and attended to your duties here, you’d be more informed.”

  Rage swelled inside me. Before I could stop myself, I stepped from the doorway and out into the sitting room.

  “How can you say that?” I demanded of him. “When you were the one who stood on that dais and won the merchants and city leaders over to your side by reminding them of Ashton’s good works? You regaled them with reminders of her compassion for the poor and how they could not bear to lose her.” All the pent-up fear and anger from the past months came out. “Now you chastise her for it? What a hypocrite you are.”

  Ashton stared at me, stunned.

  But Rowan’s eyes narrowed.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

  My anger faded as I began to realize what I’d just done. “I came to help the queen dress for dinner.”

  “No,” he said, “I mean, what are you still doing here at the castle? It’s long past time you went home.”

  “Olivia,” Ashton said, “Would you please go and see what is keeping Kamilla with your hair clip?”

  Both frightened of Rowan and angry with myself, I fled her apartments.

  * * * *

  That night, I didn’t go down to dinner. I asked Kamilla to bring a tray to my room.

  When it arrived, I couldn’t eat.

  What had I been thinking? Ashton had worked so hard to keep me out of notice, and I’d stepped from her bedroom, shouting at Rowan and calling him a hypocrite.

  But he’d made me so angry. His disregard of Ashton’s counsel was beyond bearing—as was his accusation that she cared not for their child. How could he say such things to her? And yet…my foolish actions would not help her, and now I’d jeopardized my own safety. He’d most likely write to my father in the morning.

  I had no idea how to save myself.

  The door cracked, and Kamilla peered in. “My lady? The queen has sent a note.”

  A note?

  Hurrying to the door, I took a folded piece of paper from her hand and opened it. It read:

  Olivia,

  Come to my apartments tomorrow. Be sure to wait until midmorning, after the king has left.

  Please don’t fear, and sleep well tonight.

  I read the note several times. What did it mean?

  * * * *

  Midmorning of the following day, I made my way to Ashton’s apartments with a mix of dread and hope. My performance last night had probably forced her hand, and she was about to tell me which young and insignificant noble son had reluctantly agreed to accept the king’s castoff.

  I had no one but myself to blame.

  After knocking lightly on the door, I cracked it. “Ashton.”

  “Come in.”

  I found her alone, but she looked weary, so tired, that for the first time she seemed older than her nineteen years.

  “What’s happened?” I asked instantly.

  “Happened? Nothing. But I have welcome news for you.”

  I braced myself as she walked to her tea table, upon which lay several large pieces of faded paper.

  “I’ve been working on some arrangements,” she said, “but all is settled now.” She lifted the largest document. “My aunt, my father’s sister, never married. She owned a small manor at the northwest edge of the city, near the sea. When she died five years ago, she left the house and property to me. I have signed it over to you.”

  My heart slowed. “A manor? With property?”

  “Yes, and you’ll need an income to support a household. At first, I thought to arrange a stipend, but…stipends can be stopped.” She lifted the second document. “I own a fief about twenty leagues south of the city. My grandmother left it to me, and I’ve also signed it over to you. There is a vassal in place, but you’ll receive most of the rents and a portion of the taxes. It’s not much, but it will keep you in gowns and cover basic expenses and salaries for a few servants.”

  I couldn’t believe what she was saying.

  “Ashton…are you sure? These properties belong to you.”

  “I don’t need them, and be warned. The manor house has not been occupied these five years. I’ve no idea of its state of disrepair.”

  I couldn’t have cared less about its state of disrepair. She was handing me my freedom.

  But why did she look so strained, so weary? And if both properties were hers, why had it taken so long for her to make these arrangements?

  A nagging thought occurred. “Rowan has agreed to this?”

  Even if the properties were hers, he was still her lord and husband. He’d need to agree.

  She hesitated. “Yes. He has agreed. We spoke…at length on the matter and came to an agreement.”

  “An agreement? Do you mean a bargain?”

  “Yes.” She turned away. “But do not think on it.”

  I stepped directly in front of her. “What did you do, Ashton? What did you promise him?”

  “I’ve relinquished leadership of my charity work to Emilee Martine. She’ll now oversee the collection, sorting, and distribution, and I will spend my days here at the castle, so that I am accessible to the king.”

  “No! You can’t let him demand that.”

  What a selfish creature he was. He’d agreed to my safety at the price of the only piece of her life over which he’d had no control.

  “It’s done.” She held out both documents. “And the truth is, you cannot refuse to take these.”

  My heart ached for her, and my hatred for him grew.

  But she was right. I could not refuse.

  Chapter Twenty

  The manor was so far out on the northwest edge of the city that it was beyond walking distance.

  Two days later, Micah saddled Meesha and his roan stallion, and he took me to see it for the first time. It was both more and less than I expected
. To my joy, the house was large, three stories with generous front windows. There were rose gardens and apple trees—long untended.

  But once inside, I thought on Ashton’s warning about disrepair. The glass in three windows was broken, with shards spread across the floors. The carpets, curtains, and couches were moth-eaten. Parts of the staircase’s banister had fallen. We found a family of raccoons living in the kitchen—and decided not to trouble them just yet.

  However, Micah’s enthusiasm could not be contained.

  When I’d first told him what Ashton had provided for me, his face lit up like a beacon. Now, he moved swiftly from room to room.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said. “The roof is intact, and that’s most important. A carpenter can replace that banister. Some of the furniture can be repaired. Once the house has been thoroughly cleaned, though, you’ll need new carpets and curtains.”

  “And how will I afford all of that?” I asked.

  “How much is your income?”

  “I’m not certain, but Ashton implied it would be barely enough to support me.”

  He looked around again. “Let’s go see the upstairs.”

  As we ascended, he offered his hand and warned, “Don’t touch what’s left of the banister.”

  Taking his hand, I let him lead me up. Only then did I realize that I’d once again placed myself in a compromising situation: completely alone with him while going to inspect the upstairs bedrooms. But somehow, today, it didn’t matter. I need not worry so much for my reputation.

  “Oh dear,” I said, walking into the first bedroom. The mattress of the bed appeared to be rotting.

  Micah walked over and opened the moth-eaten curtains. Then he opened the window.

  “I’m not saying it won’t be a task,” he said. “But this could be a fine house again.”

  His mood was infectious. After all, I’d never shied away from a challenge. “Yes, it could.”

  He glanced back. “And you could be happy here?”

  Through the open window, fresh sea air filled the musty room, and I smiled. “I could be very happy.”

  * * * *