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

“Take this,” she said, removing a chain from her neck. It had once held a stone, but it was gone now; she had given it away. “It was my mother’s. For luck.”

Louis nodded. “Hugh, are you ready?” he called.

Hugh nodded, holding his own weapon.

Isabelle watched them walk to the courtyard.

“What are you doing?” Wolf asked. “What is this? Walk away from this, leave the boy alone.”

“Worried about me?” Leo asked. “Don’t be, little brother. He won’t be able to touch me.”

“If you won’t back down, then let me do it—I’m the better shot. Let me take your place,” Wolf insisted.

Leo laughed. “I don’t hide behind anyone. Now come.”

Wolf shrugged his shoulders and holstered his gun. If Leo wanted to duel, then he couldn’t stop him. Leo always got what he wanted.

It was midnight at last. Aelwyn checked herself in the mirror. She still couldn’t get used to the sight of Marie’s face staring back at her. The illusion stone created a mask that was uncanny, unreal. She touched the bridge of her nose, her cheekbones; it all felt strange, unfamiliar. She changed from her acolyte robes to the dress that Marie was meant to wear to the garden party, tucking the stone into her dress under her collar. Aelwyn stopped to consider what she was doing. After tonight, she would no longer be an acolyte, a mage; she would be the princess of the empire.

Marie had made it clear she had no interest in the throne, or in wedding the future king. The ring and the crown were there for the taking—all Aelwyn had to do was claim them. But her heart was heavy as she stole away from the charter house toward the castle proper. She remembered how she and Marie had looked, the night that Marie had told her she and Gill were really leaving the palace, that Aelwyn was to take her place as princess. Their faces had been so ashen, so unhappy…was this the right choice? There was no stopping now. Marie would be gone when the sun rose in the morning.

As she made her way to the gardens, she thought it seemed oddly quiet—there were no sounds of murmured conversation, no clink of glasses or forks against plates. There was no music playing.

Leo was supposed to meet her in the bower by the courtyard. Marie had sent a note saying she was too ill for dinner, but she would meet him there. Aelwyn found the bower of trees near the courtyard. There was no Leopold. She must be early; it was not midnight yet.

No sounds of merry-making, no party…and when she looked at the courtyard again, she saw why.

Silhouetted against the moonlight were four figures. Two of them stepped forward and shook hands, and the other two stepped to the side. Then the first two began to walk ten paces away from each other.

Aelwyn caught her breath. When the moon came out of the clouds, she saw their faces clearly. One was Leopold. The other was a young Frenchman—Louis-Philippe Beziers, she thought his name was. He came with the Valois contingent.

What was happening? What was this?

She stepped back into the shadows, hoping that no one had seen her face. Where was Marie? Had she escaped? Was it safe to come out? Aelwyn thought it was better if no one saw her just yet.

The boys stopped walking, their backs still turned to each other.

“Ready?” Louis-Philippe called.

“When you are,” Leo drawled.

He was so confident, so sure he would win, and the other boy was so very young and determined. Aelwyn’s hand went to the other stone she wore upon her neck. The black one.

It happened in a split second. Before Leopold could draw his weapon, Louis-Philippe had already fired his pistol, shooting the prince right in the chest.

Leo fell, tumbling backward—caught unawares—a stunned expression on his handsome face.

Wolf screamed and ran to his brother. “LEO! LEO! SOMEONE GET ME A HEALER! LEO!”

The other boy stood motionless, his pistol still smoking, as Hugh corralled him and led him away. They brushed past Aelwyn, who stood stunned. But she was jarred to action by the look on Isabelle’s face, locking eyes with her as she passed. She broke the illusion and fled back to the charter house.

That night the palace was silent, but for the sound of Wolf yelling and crying for his brother.

On the gray cobblestones, Leo had bled a river of blood through his white shirt, and he lay still and unmoving.

Let me be your ruler,

You can call me Queen Bee.