by Barb Hendee
She gazed into empty space. “Yes. Soon.”
Turning, I fled the room and went down the back stairs. I had no wish to run into Rowan.
Once outside, I went to the barracks and found Micah. He watched me cautiously.
“How fares the queen?” he asked.
I wanted him to tell him that she suffered at the hands of her husband, and that he’d taken her child, and that she was disappearing inside herself. But it would pain Micah on several levels to hear such things…and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“A mild indisposition,” I said.
Relief flooded his face. He knew more of the truth than he let on, but he could not speak of it, and he was grateful to me.
“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.
I was more than ready.
As we rode home side by side, I thought on all my blessings: my kind and loving husband, my warm home by the sea, my safe and happy life. I tried with all my heart to focus on those things.
But I could not stop thinking of Ashton.
The Choice
Chapter Twenty-Two
The world around me vanished, and I found myself standing again in the alcove of the castle, staring into the three-paneled mirror.
I ached for Ashton. I longed for Micah.
Now, there were three images of the dark-haired woman as she gazed out at me from all three panels.
“Which action?” the woman asked. “You must choose.”
Images and emotions surged through me until I couldn’t think clearly.
“Which of the paths will you follow?” she asked. “Hesitation…instant resolution…independent action?” She paused. “Queen…chancellor…wife?”
Her statement of the choices let me focus, and my mind flowed backward to the life I’d lived as queen, married to man without love. And yet, I was queen, with power in Partheney, and my beautiful son, Henri. I could see his face as clearly as if I held him in my arms.
But Ashton was dead, and Micah merely the loyal captain of my guard.
And Samourè suffered under Rowan’s revenge.
The images rolled forward to my life as chancellor at Ashton’s side. Without Rowan, she’d risen to her role as queen, fighting the council and protecting the people from men like Lord Sauvage. How I loved her. How I’d fed my strength into her and trusted in her wisdom. We ruled the kingdom together.
I could still feel Micah’s mouth on mine, the hunger in his kiss as we stole away to hide in his barracks room. I remembered every word he’d said to me, how we’d risked ourselves in our need for each other.
But I’d had to give him up. Reliving the moment broke my heart, and, here in the alcove, tears streamed down my face.
Micah.
Images rolled forward to the third life, the indescribable happiness as his wife. The joy of creating our home. The sound of his laugh. The warmth of his body in our bed at night.
But Ashton was crushed beneath Rowan’s smothering love. No matter how much she gave him, he wanted more…and more, until he even took her child and left her as a shadow.
Ashton.
My mind raced. Did I know the future? What if I chose the third action, but with my knowledge I was able to convince her not to marry Rowan? I could tell her what would happen. I would make her believe me. Could I save her and still marry Micah?
But…what of the people of Samourè? What of our own people? Could I change those events?
The dark-haired woman in the mirror watched me.
“Once I choose,” I asked, “will I still remember what I’ve seen? Can I alter events because of what I have seen here?”
She shook her head. “These are the possible paths, and you have been given the gift to see and to choose. But once you have chosen, all that you have seen will be gone.”
I closed my eyes in pain. I would remember nothing.
“Choose for yourself,” she said. “This is a gift.
But I couldn’t choose. I loved two people, and I’d not give up one for the other.
A thought struck me.
“Wait,” I said. “When the second choice ended, not even a year had passed. Might Ashton later come into enough power that she’d not need me to help battle the council? Might I one day be free to go openly to Micah?”
“You have seen what you have seen,” she answered. “There is nothing more I can tell you. Which of the paths will you follow? Hesitation…instant resolution…independent action? Queen…chancellor…wife?”
I closed my eyes, breathing hard. I couldn’t leave Ashton to Rowan, not for anything. I would have to take a great risk.
“Chancellor,” I whispered and opened my eyes.
She nodded, standing now only in the center panel. “The second choice.”
The air before me wavered, and the mirror vanished.
* * * *
I was in a corridor, outside an alcove, listening to the plans of a murderer and an assassin.
“Doesn’t make any difference to me, so long as I get paid,” said the man called Soren. “But you need not fear. I’ll get it done.”
I felt disoriented, and touched one side of my head, but when Soren turned to leave, I flew into motion, dashing to the nearest alcove to hide from sight.
He walked past me.
A few moments later, so did Genève.
An assassin was about to seek out Ashton in the stable and kill her. I was desperate for the crown. But not at this price, not at Ashton’s life, and I had to save her. From where I stood now, the kitchens weren’t far.
Without an instant of hesitation, I ran.
Upon reaching the archway to the kitchens, I looked ahead to a door and hurried through it. Once out in the courtyard, I cast about for any help, but the only guards in sight were all the way out at the castle gates.
Running toward the old stable myself, I resolved to do anything necessary to save Ashton. Just as I reached the door, I turned my head in time to see Rowan leading a horse out of the new stable, and I called out.
“Rowan…!”
The End
Don’t miss the next book in the Dark Glass series, A Girl of White Winter, coming in August 2018.
Chapter One
While I was growing up, I never realized how carefully the Lady Giselle hid me from the eyes of men. She did not do this from jealousy or selfishness, but to protect me…as my position in the household was not easy to define.
On an evening in early autumn, as she sat in a chair before me, I piled her dark hair atop her head and fastened it with silver clips. In her late forties, she was still lovely, and I always helped her dress for dinner.
Tonight, she wore a green velvet gown with a full skirt and long sleeves.
“Would you like your diamond pendant?” I asked.
Her mind was elsewhere. “Mmmmmm?”
She’d seemed unsettled since midafternoon, and I knew she was worried about the outcome of tonight’s dinner gathering.
“Your diamond pendant?” I asked again.
This evening was important, and she would wish to look her best.
Nodding, she said, “Yes, my dear.”
But as I went to fetch it, she reached out and stopped me. “Kara…his lordship has requested that you join us for dinner. The Capellos did not bring their wives or sisters, as this is a business gathering, and his lordship fears the numbers will appear too skewed at the table.” She paused. “Once you finish dressing me, we’ll need to find you a gown. He wants you to be decorative.”
I tensed. “Must I?”
She nodded again, this time more tightly. “Yes. It is his lordship’s wish.”
Though it was common for me to join the family for dinner, over the past summer, I had turned eighteen, and I’d not been invited to join a formal dinner with guests in nearly thr
ee years. Lady Giselle kept me hidden, even from most of the manor guards. Again, though, at that time, I didn’t realize what she was doing and didn’t learn the truth until it was too late.
“Which gown?” I asked, nervous at the thought of dining with strangers.
“Your white silk, I think.”
* * * *
That night, as Giselle and I walked into the great hall, my stomach tightened when I saw what appeared to be a sea of men milling around before dinner. In truth, only five of the men would be joining us at the table. The rest were merely guards of either our house or the Capellos’.
The group of five had gathered near the hearth.
The lord of our house, Jean de Marco, stood with his and Lady Giselle’s two sons: Geoffrey and Lucas, who were both older than me by a few years. Lord Jean was a large man, and only recently had some of his muscle begun to sag a little. Glancing in our direction, he offered his wife a nod, but did not acknowledge my presence.
He had no love for me.
The other two men were strangers to me. One appeared late middle-aged and the other was in his early thirties.
A table stretched out in the center of the hall, laden with goblets, fine pewter plates, and a centerpiece of the last of our autumn roses.
Beside me, Lady Giselle drew a long breath as her face transformed into a welcoming smile. She took my arm, and we swept into the vast room.
“Gentlemen,” she said, approaching the group of five. “Forgive our tardy arrival.”
This was a polite but expected comment. Women of her station never arrived at a formal dinner before her guests. It was the lord’s duty to greet them.
Both strangers turned to offer a greeting, but at the sight of me, the words froze on their lips, and they stared.
I was not taken aback, as this was a normal response from anyone seeing me for the first time. My lady assured me that it was due to my unusual coloring. I was small, slender, and pale-skinned, but my hair was so blond that she called it “silver” and my eyes so crystalline blue that they seemed to glow against the pale background. Once, Lord Jean had shivered as he studied me and said, “She looks like a winter morning.”
I had long wished for dark hair and brown eyes.
Lady Giselle was accustomed to men going speechless at the sight of me, and she pretended not to notice their half-opened mouths. “May I present our ward, Kara.”
Lord Jean flinched slightly at the term “ward,” but I was the only one who noticed.
Turning to me, Giselle motioned to the men with a graceful hand. “Kara, this is Lord Trey Capello and his son, Royce.”
Lord Trey must have been past fifty, but he was slender and striking, with light brown hair and a goatee. He recovered himself quickly, kissing first her hand and then mine.
“My ladies,” he said. “We’ll be blessed with your company at dinner.”
Somehow, he sounded sincere, and I began to relax a little. Perhaps, I would be required to only nod and smile and not answer any difficult questions about my identity.
But Royce did not recover so quickly and continued to stare, running his eyes over my face and silver-blond hair. He bore little resemblance to his father, taller and more muscular with sandy blond hair and a clean-shaven face.
I hoped he would not try to engage me in conversation, as I was not nearly so skilled as my lady and had little experience in talking to men.
“Shall I ring for dinner so that we might sit?” Giselle asked.
Lord Jean nodded to her, and we gathered at the table. To my relief, I was seated between Geoffrey and Lucas. I didn’t know them well, but they had long grown accustomed to my appearance, and neither would expect me to talk.
Unfortunately, Royce was seated directly across the table and although he’d stopped staring, he continued glancing in my direction.
A number of servants entered the hall carrying trays of food and decanters of wine.
Wine was poured, and the fish course was served. I was not fond of red wine but tried to sip politely.
“You understand I wish to buy the entire two hundred acres?” Lord Jean asked after swallowing a bite of trout.
This was the reason for the Capellos’ visit. For nearly three centuries, the noble de Marco family had boasted one of the most renowned vineyards in the nation of Samourè. They grew white and red grapes, but of late, demand for white wine had been waning, and Lord Jean had long coveted a large piece of undeveloped land just off our southern border—and on the Capellos’ northern border. Both its soil and its positioning were perfect for growing the purple grapes of burgundy wine.
I’d learned all this information from my lady. To date, the Capellos had never responded to any of Lord Jean’s offers, but…it appeared the land belonged to Royce and not to his father, and now, Royce might be willing to sell.
Lady Giselle impressed upon me the importance of this meeting.
Lord Jean could not accept failure in these negotiations.
His question about the two hundred acres hung in the air. Royce didn’t answer, but he was again staring at me.
“My son?” Lord Trey asked.
Royce turned his head to look down the table at Lord Jean. “Let us talk of business over breakfast. The ride was long today, and for tonight, I would rather dine and speak of less weighty matters.”
His voice was deep and possessed a serious quality that suggested he rarely made jokes. I knew that he and his father would be spending at least one night with us, as their own manor was a full day’s ride south.
Lord Jean’s jaw twitched, but he nodded. “As you wish.” Then he looked to Lady Giselle. “Time for the next course, I think.”
* * * *
Somehow, I made it through dinner and dessert without being required to enter the conversation. I made certain to pay polite attention to all that was said in regards to crops and taxes and other matters men tended to discuss over dinner, and I smiled whenever Lucas or Lord Trey said something amusing—for they were the only men in the group disposed toward humor.
Finally, at the end, I breathed in quiet relief that the women would be excused so the men might switch to a stronger port wine and play cards.
Lady Giselle was a woman of flawless timing, and at the precise moment, she rose. I stood quickly.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “it has been a pleasure. Kara and I will leave you to your amusements, and I shall see you at breakfast.”
All the men stood in respect, and the two of us turned to leave, heading for the archway. I looked forward to a quiet night with her of reading aloud to each other or playing at chess or cards or working on our embroidery or hearing her thoughts on how Lord Jean might approach Royce in this land deal.
“My lady?” Mistress Duval, our housekeeper, came to the archway just as we reached it. “Forgive me, but the cook fears we don’t have enough eggs for the breakfast that was planned. Could you come and approve a new menu?”
“Of course.”
Lady Giselle was a woman who oversaw every detail of the running of her household. Normally, breakfast menus did not require approval, but we all knew the importance of this meeting. Everything from the guest rooms to the food had to be perfect.
Turning to me, Giselle said, “My dear. You go up, and I’ll meet you directly.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She turned and swept down the east corridor for the kitchens. I headed for the west stairwell, so that I might ascend to her private apartments where she would soon meet me.
I had walked only about six steps when a voice sounded from behind.
“Wait.”
The voice was deep and possessed of a serious quality.
Turning, my stomach again tightened at the sight of Royce walking toward me. Desperately, I looked down the east corridor, but my lady was gone, and I was alone with Royce. He stro
de to me with purpose and stopped. Facing him, my eyes were level with his collarbones, which were visible through the V-neck of his tunic. I did not look up at his face.
“Who are you?” he asked bluntly.
Despair flooded through me. I would not escape the evening without answering questions.
“Lady Giselle’s ward,” I whispered.
“That’s not an answer. If she had a ward from one of the noble families, it would be common knowledge. You’d have been seen at court.” He paused and if possible, his tone hardened. “Who was your father?”
I could not raise my eyes from his collarbones any more than I could answer his question because the truth was a family secret.
I knew the story well.
Almost nineteen years ago, Lady Giselle’s brother, Jacques, had visited these vineyards. Giselle adored her handsome brother, who was charming and reckless—or so she described him to me.
At the same time, she had a beautiful lady’s maid, named Coraline, of whom she had grown fond.
Upon his visit, Jacques seduced the maid, and as soon as he learned she was with child, he fled. For a marriage to a wealthy wool merchant’s daughter had already been arranged for him.
When Lord Jean learned of Coraline’s condition, he ordered that she be dismissed, but for the first time, Giselle went against him, begging that Coraline be allowed to remain. Such state of affairs was unheard of…to keep a pregnant woman as a lady’s maid.
In the end, Giselle won, for she seldom asked him for anything, and in his heart, Lord Jean liked to please her.
I was born.
At first, out of guilt, my father sent Coraline some money, but he never visited or took any action to see me and remained at his home with his new wife. When I was two years old, he drank too much wine and took up a challenge to ride one of his horses in a race.
In his drunken state, he fell off over a jump and was killed.
When I was five, a fever passed through our lands, and some of our household died, including my mother.
I had no parents, and I was alone.