The Ring and the Crown (The Ring and the Crown 1)

“Thank goodness that’s done,” said Sister Mallory, a moon-faced enchantress whose specialty was speaking to animals. “He’s handsome and says all the right things, but if you ask me, the princess is better off alone. I don’t trust the Prussians. Where could they have found that horrid weapon and learned the ability to use it?”

Sister White, who could conjure weather patterns, nodded. “Yes, if it hadn’t been for that, our boys would have won that battle, but there you go.”

“Can’t imagine the Merlin would bow down so quickly,” said Sister Mallory.

“Perhaps he was as tired of war as we were,” another sister opined.

“Weapons of dark magic were supposed to have been destroyed after the Treaty of Orleans,” Sister White grumbled.

“So it was smart of the Prussians to use one, then, as it gave them the advantage,” Aelwyn said.

“Advantage? Cheating is more like it!” Sister White argued.

“Sometimes the only way to win is to cheat,” Aelwyn said stubbornly.

The sisters turned to see what the Sister Superior would do, but Sister Mallory only sighed. “You are young still, Sister Myrddyn, but one day you will learn that a false victory is a hollow one.”

Aelwyn nodded, thankful that her own loose tongue had not gotten her in trouble. The sisters disappeared down the hallway, and she dawdled behind, uneager to return to the charter house so soon. After her years in Avalon, life as a member of the invisible orders was boring. The sisters lived in a small convent in a remote wing of the palace, next to the home of the brotherhood. Every morning began the same way, with a quiet knock on the door at the first light of dawn. Bonded sister and acolyte alike rose to perform the daily tasks. They were not allowed to waste their magic to sweep the corridors, dust the stairs, or make the preparations for breakfast. Magic was a special gift; it had to be rationed for only the most important tasks, like warfare and security. Aelwyn’s morning chore was to wipe down the windows with a rag. Once the glass was sparkling, she was allowed to return to her drab little cell to change into her blue tunic and wash her face in the tiny washbasin.

At breakfast, the sisters would gather at long wooden tables, eating porridge and talking in low voices. She usually joined a group of new acolytes at a table near the window. They knew she was the Merlin’s daughter and were kind to her, but they avoided asking her about Avalon, or her time with Viviane. Aelwyn understood what her father had warned her about from the beginning: the sisterhood did not trust her. She would have to prove herself to them to gain acceptance into the Order. After the meal, the group convened to the chapel for silent spell-casting. While the Merlin’s men spent their time on strategizing military campaigns and border expansion, the sisterhood was responsible for the health and safety of the empire. The wasting plague was one of their more bitter failures, as none of their healers could concoct a real cure. Shields, wards, and anti-destruction spells were strengthened, renewed, and refurbished on a rotating basis, especially after the failed insurrection only a few months ago that had threatened the queen and her daughter.

Sitting quietly, surrounded by dutiful mages who had given themselves over to magic and servitude, Aelwyn’s thoughts flitted back to Avalon. She could chant the shield spell in her sleep. She was so incredibly disinterested in the humdrum nature of the Order’s magic. It was strictly by the book, whereas in Avalon magic was wild and mercurial, but extremely powerful. Well—there was no use thinking of Avalon now, was there?

Perhaps Viviane was right.

Perhaps she had made a mistake in choosing to join the invisible orders.

But if she did not take her vows and exchange her blue robes for the white habits, she would be a rogue enchantress, a woman without protection, practically a harlot, and even magic could not protect her from the people’s wrath if something went wrong. There were hedge witches and random warlocks in every town and village, scrounging a living from the edges, their magic separated from the true source of power, weak and ineffective.

Viviane had made it clear when Aelwyn left that Avalon would always be open to her—but if she returned, she would have to stay for good this time. Why had she chosen London over the island? Because when she was younger, she had worshipped the white-clad sisters, so beautiful and mysterious? Aelwyn had looked forward to the day she would “don the white and serve the light.” Magic was a gift, a calling, a home; especially since her father had asked her to return to the palace in the letter he had sent on the eve of her sixteenth birthday. That letter had sent her running back to the city. She had hidden the letter from her aunt, as Viviane would not have understood. She’d only have accused her of sentiment.

Aelwyn was so deep in her own thoughts that she did not notice the prince in the shadows of the corridor speaking to one of the younger, prettier ladies of the court. The girl was practically throwing herself at him, fluttering her lashes and shoving her cleavage in his face. He seemed to be reeling her in, little by little. She tipped forward, as if to receive a kiss, but he merely brushed her off with a lazy smile.

The girl handed him a slip of paper—no doubt with the location of her apartments in the castle—and sashayed away, promising something delicious and naughty with every sway of her step. But when her back was turned, Leo tossed the piece of paper to the ground. When he looked up, his eyes met Aelwyn’s.

She felt a hot spark between them, an electric energy that sent a tingle to the very center of her. He hadn’t much changed from the handsome, confident young boy he used to be, the one she had secretly mooned over in her diary. Even then, he had the ability to make you feel as if you were the only person in the room, the only person who mattered. “She’ll be sorely disappointed you won’t be looking for her tonight,” Aelwyn said, motioning to the torn piece of paper.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said, a small smile dawning on his face as he appraised her boldly, his stare raking her up and down. She felt as if she were standing naked in his presence.

But Aelwyn returned his stare with one of her own. Her green eyes held his gaze. “You should be more careful. This court is lousy with gossip, if you haven’t noticed.”

“All courts are. That is the nature of court. Let them talk; words are nothing but air,” he said dismissively.

“What are you doing out here, anyway? Are you lost, my lord? The tour of the grounds is that way.”

He smirked, still drinking in every inch of her with his soulful gaze. “‘Lost’ is not quite the word I would choose, my lady.”

“I am no lady,” she said with an arch smile.

“For my sake, I hope not,” he replied. “You look familiar.” He studied her face so intently that she blushed. “We have met before, have we not?”

“I grew up in the castle,” she allowed.

“You were the little girl who used to chase me all over this place,” he said. “As I recall, you caught me quite a few times.”

“Did I now? You must have been a slow runner.”

“Perhaps I wanted to be caught—that was the game, after all, wasn’t it? Catch and kiss?” he said.