The Opal Crown (15 page)

“I needed him to,” he says, a defensive edge creeping into his voice. “No one else—”

“I think our young royals are forgetting themselves,” Lord Murcendor’s voice cuts across the table, and Andrei and I quickly look up. “There are guests here who hoped to speak with you today, not watch the two of you whispering.”

The table falls silent; and though Lord Murcendor’s voice merely sounds perplexed, I’m certain I read malevolence in his eyes.

“Yes, what
are
you two whispering about?” Lady
Ashland asks.

“Plans for my coronation, of course,” Andrei replies smoothly. “My sister and I are unsure what entertainments to provide for the city. If anyone here has an opinion, I should greatly like to hear it.”

The conversation turns to the coronation. When I glance at Andrei again, I see he’s paled slightly. I follow his gaze. Lord Murcendor looks at us with a displeased expression.

“What’s wrong?” I murmur. “Why is he looking at us that way? He couldn’t have heard what we were saying.”

“I don’t think it matters
what
we were saying,” Andrei says. “I get the impression he is not particularly pleased when you and I speak to each other.” He begins piling his plate with bread and fruit, carefully not looking at me. “Perhaps we should continue this later.”

“Of course,” I say, his words filling me with hope. He has
n’t agreed to anything regarding Elara, but it’s a start.

We eat the rest of our lunch in silence, until Lord
Murcendor and Andrei excuse themselves to attend to palace business. While Lord Ashland regales everyone with tales of his hunting prowess earlier in the morning, Patric leans close. “In a few minutes, I’d like you to make your apologies and tell everyone you’re tired, and then return to your chambers. Please,” he adds, “it’s important.”

8

A
short time later, I am striding back to the palace; Patric and the rest of my guards follow behind me. My heart pounds as I wonder what he wants to speak to me about. I don’t know what I expected when I showed him my face. Truly, I wanted to secure Elara’s safety and see Patric grant her safe passage from the palace. But I had also hoped for something else from Patric, some sign that the moment meant something to him. A sign that
I
meant something to him.

I finally have to acknowledge that the feelings I had for him last year have come back in full force. Is it the same for him?

When we reach my chambers, Patric asks the other guards to wait outside while he speaks to me privately.

“Wilha, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?” My heart pounds harder. “What is it?”

“I had an interesting conversation with Lord Royce yesterday. It seems he’s been harboring Elara somewhere in the city.”

I nod, aware of the disappointment curling through my chest. “I suspected as much. I had hoped we might get a message to her.”

“We can. But when Lord Royce came to me yesterday he asked me if I thought you held any ambitions to be queen.”

I sigh. “I assume you told him I did not? I have been working extremely hard to show everyone I am not a threat to Andrei, or his reign.”

“I did, but Wilha . . . the reason he asked was because Elara has decided
she
wants to be queen.”

“Elara wishes to be queen?” I blink. “Is that some sort of jest?”

“I am afraid not.” Patric grimaces. “Elara and Lord Royce are truly plotting to take the throne from Andrei.”

I let his words sink in, and try to understand these new turn of events, but find I cannot. “Why is Elara doing this? Has she suddenly sprouted concern for the well-being of our kingdom?”

“Lord Royce didn’t say it outright, but it sounded to me as though he had convinced her it was the best option she had, given the position Andrei and Lord Murcendor have put her in.”

“And do neither of them realize the consequences of their actions? I believe Andrei is slowly coming around to see Lord Murcendor for who he really is—but that does not mean he will simply surrender the crown he was raised to believe is his by right. He will rise up against Elara, Lord Murcendor at his side, and between the two of them, my siblings will plunge our kingdom into war.”

“I believe they do realize that—which is why Lord Royce and Elara are asking you to leave the palace . . . and join them.”

“
Join
them? Have they both lost their senses?”

“I think they’re genuinely concerned for your safety.” Patric pauses and adds, “As am I.”

“Did neither Elara nor Lord Royce consider that I could go to Andrei this very moment and tell him of their treason?”

“I think they are counting on you not choosing that course of action.”

“Why not?”

“Because by
not
leaving, you will be essentially allying yourself not just with Andrei, but Lord Murcendor. They do not think you will make that choice.”

“
I
do not think they know me nearly so well. And it rather feels like Elara is
ordering
me to leave the palace, not asking.”

“I wouldn’t say
ordered
, exactly,” Patric says, grimacing. “I think they genuinely believe this is the best thing for you.”

Despite all the fears my father and Lord Murcendor have held concerning Elara, I have never viewed her as a threat to me, or to our family. Yet now she’s set her sights on the opal crown. And she asks the impossible.

How do I choose one sibling over another?

“What do you know of Lord Royce?” I ask.

“He’s a difficult one to read, but he seemed quite determined when I spoke to him. I think he is fed up with things as they are in Galandria, and quite truthfully, Wilha, he is far from the only one. If a legitimate claimant like Elara rises up against Andrei, I have no doubt many would follow her.”

I study Patric’s features. “You think I should do as they say. You think I should join them.”

“I think, especially after Lord Royce’s plans become
known to Andrei and Lord Murcendor, you would be
safer elsewhere.”

Chapter 29

Wilha

M
y mother’s statue in the Queen’s Garden is as majestic as ever. I stand before her, hoping that some of her wisdom—and the wisdom of all my ruling female ancestors—will help me with the decision I must make now.

Aside from the palace guards who keep watch along the wall, Patric and the rest of my personal guard wait at the edge of the garden under an apple tree. They stand together, laughing quietly among themselves, and I am thankful they are giving me some small measure of privacy. Or pretending to, at least.

Though I find myself in the middle of an impending war between my siblings for the opal crown, it is not lost on me that I am older than both of them. Why, then, if Lord Royce wanted to rise up against Andrei, did he choose my sister—my
younger
sister—and not me? I fear I know the answer to this question, and it does not sit well in my gut.

My eyes stray to the empty spot next to my mother’s statue—the space reserved for the next Queen of Galandria. What statue will stand here one day? One of Elara, or of Andrei’s wife?

If Elara and Andrei are going to vie for the crown, then why not you? Why not have your own statue in this garden?

The thought creeps in, but I quickly banish it. To consider such a thing is madness. It is treason, and goes directly against the wishes of my father the king, a fact that may mean nothing to Elara, but still matters to me.

I circle about the garden, regarding each of the statues; from Eleanor the Great to Rowan the Brave to my mother, Astrid the Regal. I imagine each of them coming to life and giving me counsel. Yet even in my imagination, their voices are no more than a breeze or a song sung from too far in the distance to hear the precise words.

Has ever a princess of Galandria had to make a decision such as this?

I bring a hand to my masked cheek and trace my fingertips around the encrusted opals. For nearly all my life, I was forced to cover my face because my parents feared civil war. Now, it seems civil war may be inevitable.

The guards’ laughter suddenly ceases. I turn and see Lord Murcendor walking toward me, his emerald Guardian’s robe flaring around him. I look in Patric’s direction. His shoulders have stiffened and his face is grim.

“Your Highness,” Lord Murcendor says, bowing, “it has been a while since we visited in these gardens. I thought I would check up on you.”

We settle on a nearby bench, and as we stare at my mother’s statue, it feels like a metal band begins squeezing my chest. Surely he does not know of Elara’s intentions?

“I also wanted to remind you that tonight Andrei is host
ing Azarlin’s ambassador for a private dinner.”

Relief floods my chest. “Yes, I have already told Andrei I will
dine with him and Sir Vanderberg.”

“Actually, I think it best if you rest this evening.”

“Rest?” I say. What game is he playing now?

“Yes. I think it likely that the schedule Andrei has asked you to keep—all the engagements, as well as the feasts he’s asked you to attend—may have become too much for you. I had thought under your father’s rule you had been a little too sheltered. Now, I see he was right.”

“I think I am fine, Lord Murcendor.”

He turns, his dark eyes glittering. “Clearly, Wilha, if you are filling Andrei’s head with lies about your sister, you are far from
fine
.”

My breath catches. Did Andrei go running straight to Lord Murcendor after our conversation?

“I do not understand your meaning,” I say carefully.

“No? Andrei came to me asking if perhaps I haven’t been mistaken about Elara—
I
, who watched over her all her life. When I pressed him on where he’d gotten such erroneous notions, he finally confessed you had told him that Elara actually wants to be on friendly terms with him.”

“That’s not what I said,” I say, realizing how wrong my earlier words were, now that I know Elara has no intention of meeting with Andrei. All she wants is to take his crown
for herself.

“Then what
did
you say?”

“I . . .” I cannot answer him. I cannot defend Elara, and I don’t want to say anything that he might use against Andrei.

“Truly Wilha, this convinces me that your mental state is really quite fragile, and in the meantime, I think it best to curtail your engagements for the time being.”

I read suppressed triumph in his eyes, and all at once I think I finally understand. My health and mental state mean nothing to him. What I think he really wants is to keep Andrei and I separate. Divided.

“Is this Andrei’s wish? If so, I would like to ask him
to recon—”

“They are
my
wishes, and I have made Andrei see their
wisdom. Your apologies have already been made to
Sir Vanderberg.”

“I see. . . . And for how long do you wish me to retire from public life?”

“For as long as I think best. Stefan Strassburg will be arriv
ing in the city for your brother’s coronation next month, and for obvious reasons he should not spend time in your presence, so this will come at a good time . . . don’t look so troubled, Princess.” He traces a knuckle down my cheek, and gooseflesh rises on my arms. “Once there was a time when you looked at me like I was your whole world. So trust me now, Wilha. In the days to come I will prove to you that I know what’s best for you. After all, you are the Glory of Galandria.”

My breath quickens. I have not heard him call me that since last year, and I had hoped his obsession with the Masked Princess had waned. But now I think he’s just been biding his time, waiting for the moment when he could bring me back under his command.

“Thank you, Lord Murcendor,” I say, feeling nauseous. “You can be sure I will do all that is required of me.”

He smiles. “I knew you would see reason, Princess.”

As soon as he has gone, Patric is at my side, looking angrier than I have ever seen him. “If he ever touches you like that again, he will find himself suddenly short a hand.”

“And then you will find
yourself
suddenly short a head,” I say, forcing myself to take deep breaths.

I glance over at the guards posted on the wall to see if they’ve heard Patric. But their backs are to us, more concerned, as always, with threats outside the palace.

I thought I had to choose between Andrei and Elara. Now I see clearly: Andrei, despite wearing the crown, does not hold any sort of power. That rests solely with Lord Murcendor, and his grip on the throne—and on
me
—will only strengthen as time passes. If he can send me into seclusion so easily, if he can have the entire palace guard searching for Elara, what could he do to Andrei? Is my brother any safer in this palace than I am?

“Send word to Lord Royce that I accept his proposal. I need to leave the palace
now
, Patric. Before Lord Murcendor makes it impossible for me to do so.”