To Make a King Read online

  To

  Make

  A

  King

  by

  Kristi L. Cramer

  Copyright © 2016 Kristi Cramer and Kristi L. Cramer

  All rights reserved.

  www.kristicramerbooks.com

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be resold, reproduced, or distributed in any form or by any means graphic, electronic, or mechanical, without the express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, business establishments, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Monica Black

  Word Nerd Editing

  Cover design by: Dana Lamothe

  Designs by Dana, Vancouver BC

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

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  Prologue

  Year of Our Lord 1633

  The crystal flickered from within as though a candle burned inside, giving out the only illumination in the dark place. Into the circle of its light, a hand reached out as if to touch the sphere. A hand almost like a child’s, soft and young. It passed over the surface of the crystal, then withdrew into darkness again.

  “Hmm,” a woman’s voice crooned. “It is done, at last. Revenge does taste sweet.”

  “Savor it,” a deep voice rumbled in the darkness.

  “I will, Master. But I do believe it is time to start on the second course.”

  “More of the same?” The voice, while deep, could have belonged to a man or a woman.

  “Oh, no, Master. You should know me better than that. I have something special in mind for the rest. I want them to have everything within their reach. I want them to watch it get ripped away from them—violently.”

  The deep voice chuckled, and the sound reverberated in the dark place. “You do honor to my name, Lady.”

  “Hmm,” the woman crooned again. “Yes, Master.”

  Chapter One

  A change in the wind signaled dawn even before the sky brightened in the east. Then slowly, inexorably, the landscape surrounding the castle began to take shape out of the darkness. Stars overhead dimmed one by one by one, until nothing remained but steel gray sky—a blank slate on which to write a new day.

  Sebastian wished he could hold back the sun as the first rays spiked over the horizon, blinding him with their intensity. He did not want this day to begin, but all his will meant nothing when faced with God’s will, and he turned his back on the rising sun.

  He found no comfort in this view either, for the sun chased the night away, out over the ocean and beyond the horizon.

  This day had begun. Sebastian sighed, knowing very soon he must go downstairs and bury his father, King Isaiah.

  The sound of a footfall behind him did not surprise him, and he did not turn as his twin sister joined him at the battlement.

  “You’ve been missed, brother,” Aslynn said gently. Then, in a lighter tone, “I don’t know how much longer the hordes of young ladies will respect your private mourning.”

  “Please,” he groaned, glad to take up her banter. “I shall throw myself off the castle roof if I should be so invaded.”

  “Don’t speak too loud, or Edward will send them up.”

  “He would, wouldn’t he?” Sebastian laughed, but there was no real humor. His hand slid along the parapet to touch hers. “I’m not ready for this, Aslynn. He should still be alive.”

  “I know, ’Bastian.”

  “I’ve known him all my life, Aslynn, but he’s only been my father for five years. I feel cheated.”

  “You always had a special relationship with him, even before your true lineage was discovered.” His twin referred to the events leading to the discovery of royal betrayal five years before. In her bid to become Queen Mother, Tawnia had taken Sebastian from his dead mother’s birth chamber, leaving his twin, and gave him into slavery. Except, the slave ship he was to have sailed on sank, leaving the boy to wash ashore where the king, his own father, found him. And so he had been raised—an unknown—beside his twin sister, until past secrets were revealed, and Queen Tawnia was exposed.

  “You had his love, even then. And think, if you had been raised a prince, you might have turned out like Edward.”

  Sebastian scoffed. “That would take some doing, but I take your point. Still, only five years to learn all there is to know about being a king. Only five years of knowing he was my father. I’m still getting comfortable with the idea....”

  Aslynn took his hand and pulled him around to face her, and he let himself move into her tight embrace.

  “I miss him, too. But at least I have Adam—”

  “Not you, too,” he began, disappointed that even Aslynn was ready to put him on the matrimonial auction block. She did not let him back out of her embrace.

  “I was about to ask if you wanted me to stay in Fair Haven for a while. Adam, too. I’m sure Duke Wingfield can spare us for a while.”

  He bowed his head into her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Aslynn. I’ve just gotten so used to defending myself. You’ve been off at Greyloch and haven’t seen the pressure I’ve been under to wed.”

  She let him step back, but kept hold of his hand. “But the ladies have been after you for years—”

  “And they’ve been a chore, but one I could deal with. When Father got sick, he and the Minister of Justice began to encourage me to take an interest in them. The sicker Father got, the more insistent they became. Then Master Jabari started in, and Mother Bette has always been wife hunting for me, even back before we knew I was your twin.”

  Aslynn chuckled. “I remember. She was always eyeing us as though she could will us to fall in love, impossible as it would have been to match us—you being just a foundling brat and all.”

  “And now that foundling brat...”

  “...proved a true prince....” Aslynn chimed in.

  “...is to become king of the Bonnie Isles, and every eligible noble daughter is climbing over the next for a shot at me. I may as well be standing in Master Jabari’s target range with an army of bows drawn against me.”

  “Come, brother, married life is not such a trial.”

  “So speaks my sister, wedded these three years now. She who missed entirely the joys of courting by marrying at so tender an age.”

  “I was fully eighteen, and just because Father consented to my engagement, do not think the odd suitor was not bold enough to attempt to steal my heart.”

  “My situation is entirely different, and you know it. You’ve seen them, Aslynn. Who among these...these ladies would you call ‘sister’?”

  Aslynn made a face. “None that has made herself known to me, ’Bastian. And I have not been immune to the frenzy, you know. Imagine the sly few who have determined that to win my heart is to win yours, and know I have spent most of this past evening keeping these pretenders at bay.”

  “Pretenders. That is a good description of them, though I could think of many much less charitable.”

  Aslynn chuckled. “No doubt. But come,
brother. It is far past time to do what must be done. I will accompany you and stand at your side as we lay our father to rest.”

  ⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝

  Mari felt invisible, as usual. No one had spoken two words to her all night. Only the servants seemed to notice her at all. Though she hated to admit it, she feared her mother had been right: her presence was a waste of time and the money she had been saving for years.

  All to pay her respects to a king who had never seen her and a chance to meet the man who was to be crowned in a week’s time—along with at least a dozen other young women, including her older sister, Rochelle, who had the same general idea.

  Indeed, the king’s wake had something of a circus air: all the gaily festive colors on gowns, ribbons in hair, and jewelry could belong to clowns or players. Mari nearly felt out of place in her simple, somber grey dress. But even if she owned a costume to rival those of the other ladies competing for the heir’s notice, Mari could not see herself dressing for a wake as though it were a carnival.

  She had found herself standing near the door all night, unable to fit in with the prince’s unabashed suitors, both visually and ethically. But dressed as she was, she apparently blended into the tapestries, despite the strands of red hair escaping her black mourning coif.

  From her position, she had watched Prince Sebastian slip away from the riot of what should be a thoughtful evening of reflection. She considered following, though even if she had gotten her nerve up, the guard at the door had no doubt been instructed to keep the prince’s privacy. And so, she had waited all night, watching for his return.

  It was morning now. Shafts of sunlight sprayed through the chapel’s stained glass windows to paint the room in ever more garish colors. Mari wished the whole thing would get over with. Her feet hurt, her head hurt, and she felt foolish for having spent all her money traveling to court for a lost cause.

  Prince Sebastian could pick from the flower of the Bonnie Isle’s beauties: small chance of recognition for Lady Mari, the youngest daughter of Baron Tidwell, lord of the smallest holding in the kingdom.

  “Not exactly what one would envision, is it?” a man said from close by her side. Mari turned in surprise to find Lord Wingfield. She curtsied, and he bowed in return, smiling at her. “I rather hoped our prince would be allowed to mourn his father properly. Instead, this, and he is driven from his own chapel.”

  “Indeed, Lord Wingfield. I almost expect tumblers to come through.” Realizing what she had just implied, Mari felt herself blushing furiously.

  The young lord smiled and leaned in close. “Don’t worry, Lady Mari, I feel the same way. It seems you are the only one who cares to show proper respect to our late king.”

  “Oh, no, sir. I see plenty—”

  “Let me amend that. I should have said the only young lady....”

  Mari could think of no response, and knew she was blushing again. “He was a great king,” she fumbled out at last.

  “Indeed.” Lord Wingfield smiled at her, but she saw sadness behind his eyes.

  Mari had known Adam Wingfield since childhood, as the Greyloch Estate bordered her father’s own small estate of Dewbury. In those years, he had grown from the impish neighbor boy into the dashing son of a duke, older and wiser in the ways of the world.

  He had always been kind to her. Once, she had dared to hope if her sister won his heart—which had always been their parent’s dream—she would have in him a fine brother who would care for his spinster sister-in-law. Having always been told she had no prospects for marriage, she could hope for nothing better. But he had gone away to Fair Haven to learn the art of war, and had captured and been captured by the heart of Princess Aslynn.

  “Ah, look,” Lord Wingfield said. “Here comes Prince Sebastian and my wife now. May I present you?”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t...,” she began, but his hand was at her elbow, guiding her toward where the prince stood in the doorway with his twin sister, talking quietly. Not everyone had noticed his return, but Lord Wingfield guided her up and bowed low. Without looking up, Mari curtsied deeply.

  “Your Highness, may I present Lady Mari of Dewbury, daughter of Baron Tidwell.”

  ⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝

  Sebastian looked up at the sound of Adam’s voice, not quite registering what his brother-in-law was saying. Then he saw the young lady at his side. Unlike the others, she was dressed in somber gray and did not—again, unlike the others—meet his eye as she waited, head lowered, for him to acknowledge her.

  He glanced at Adam, who only smiled, and put his hand out to raise her from her curtsy. As she looked up, he noted her face was a fine shade of pink, the coloring not nearly complimenting her auburn hair.

  “My lady,” he began, just as she spoke....

  “Your Highness.” He did not think it possible, but she blushed to an even deeper shade of pink.

  Before he could do more than think how refreshing—if almost painful—her shy demeanor was, the young lady was pushed aside by an older lady with her daughter in tow.

  “Prince Sebastian,” the lady said, voice braying above the murmur of conversation in the chapel. He vaguely remembered she was Baroness Tidwell. “May I present my eldest daughter, Lady Rochelle of Dewbury.”

  Sebastian lost sight of the young lady—he hadn’t even caught her name—as more females crowded around him. When he caught sight of her again, she was hurrying out the chapel door.

  Baroness Tidwell cleared her throat, calling his attention back to her daughter.

  “Oh, charmed, I’m sure,” he said, extending his hand to raise the young lady from her curtsy.

  As she straightened, she leveled deep brown eyes on him, and winked. Sebastian felt Aslynn’s elbow nudge into his side, but he dared not look at her or risk laughing outright. He was glad of her acknowledgement of humor. Without it, he may have been shocked by the young lady’s brazen behavior. It really was too much.

  “A pleasure, Your Highness,” she said in a sultry voice. “If I may offer my sincerest condolences....”

  “My lady,” Princess Katrona said, stepping in not a moment too soon and distracting the Lady Rochelle from her little speech. “I’m afraid the prince has matters of state to attend to. It is time for the procession. You look hungry, my lady. Ladies, may I suggest a pastry before it is time to leave....” Katrona escorted them all away, her nun’s habit billowing around her gracefully.

  “Hungry, indeed,” Aslynn said, covering her smile with her hand. “Sometimes I do not believe the audacity of our sister. She would not get away with so much if she were not in the order. Sometimes I think people forget she is only fifteen.”

  Princess Katrona—half-sister to the twins and daughter of the former Queen Tawnia—had dedicated herself to God and the Sisters of Charity in a bid to stay on the path of Goodness and Right, and not follow the dark path her mother had chosen. The king’s wake marked her first appearance outside the convent’s walls since she had taken herself there nearly five years ago.

  “Katrona has never seemed as young as she is,” Sebastian said. “And there are times I am thankful for it. I’ll miss her at court. With her wit and audacity, she’d make a fine ally in affairs of state.”

  “See, brother, you are already thinking like a king,” Aslynn said.

  “Look,” Adam interjected. “Here comes Bishop Paul to start the procession.”

  ⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝

  Mari pulled herself to a stop outside the chapel, but she didn’t turn around. She was embarrassed by what she considered a social blunder, but she was furious with her mother and sister.

  True to form, they had seen her making some headway and took it as an opportunity to use her as a stepping stone. They hadn’t even let her make a proper greeting...though she hadn’t been making a very good show of getting the words out of her mouth.

  Mari sighed. True to her form, she had run at the first sign of trouble. The only thing that kept her from continuing home was her hired
carriage, which was not due until the next morning. She had no idea how to go about finding the driver now. Even if she found him, he would likely charge extra for the schedule change. Money she did not have.

  While she stood undecided in the middle of the passage, she heard the bishop begin chanting the Requiem in the chapel and realized the funeral procession was beginning. She turned around to see the chapel doors opening, and knew she had to either hide or step out of the way and join the procession.

  Mari backed up against the wall as the bishop and altar boys appeared, followed by the pallbearers. She saw that Prince Sebastian had joined two ministers, Swordmaster Jabari, Lord Wingfield, and a reluctant Prince Edward in bearing his father to the royal cemetery.

  It was too late to run now—she’d only offend the royal family and humiliate herself further—so Mari stayed frozen against the wall, intending to go to her room after the procession passed.

  As the bishop approached, carrying the crucifix of St. Joseph, she made the sign of the cross and then curtsied before them, keeping her position as she watched the feet go by. When she saw the prince’s booted feet, something made her glance up, only to find him looking at her with nothing but sadness in his eyes.

  The depth of emotion was so profound, she could not stop the tears from springing to her eyes as she caught and held his gaze for the briefest of moments. Then he was beyond her, and she looked down at the ground, but not before she saw Princess Katrona, who followed the pallbearers with Princess Aslynn at her side. The king’s youngest daughter offered her a small, friendly smile.

  Mari fully intended to leave after all the mourners had passed, but after seeing the look on Prince Sebastian’s face, and then the smug look on her sister’s face as she passed, she found her feet turning and she joined the end of the straggling procession, holding her head high.

  Chapter Two

  It was less than half a mile to the royal cemetery, which stood on a low hill just outside the village wall. The ruins of an old chapel sat at its center, surrounded by the headstones of generations of kings and queens, princes and princesses, all carefully maintained by the castle groundskeepers.