The two men stared at one another for a long moment. The monk was allowing Simon a way to protect Isabella. He nodded at the monk then focused his attention on the matter at hand. “Where is the coronation to be held?” Simon asked.
“In the town square. The townspeople will be summoned so that he may gain their support,” Father Ling replied.
Simon rubbed his chin thoughtfully and glanced over at Isabella. She was pale, but determination sparked in her eyes. Her gaze sought his as she waited for him to speak.
“How large a contingent do you command?” he asked the captain.
“One hundred men comprise the Royal Guard. Our only duty is the safety of the royal family.”
“And how many are loyal to Prince Stephane?” Simon asked.
The captain’s eyes grew steely. “My men follow me. I follow Princess Isabella.”
Merrick nodded, impressed by the man’s loyalty. “Can you plan a large distraction, Father?”
The monk smiled. “Of that you may be certain.”
“Captain, direct your men to protect Stephane as they would if he were the rightful heir. Only when Princess Isabella makes her appearance do you let your allegiance be known. Then see to her protection at all costs.”
The captain nodded. “It will be done.”
He turned to Isabella. “If you are set on challenging your brother, it must be after all other threat has been eliminated. The royal guard will be responsible for evening the odds.”
“I won’t fail,” she said, determination flooding her voice.
“I know you won’t,” he said softly.
He looked around at the others. “We haven’t much time.”
The captain bowed to Isabella and hurried from the room. Father Ling swept after the captain to gather the other monks. The only two remaining were him and Isabella.
He gathered her hands in his and pulled her closer. He was at a loss as to what to say to her. The task ahead of her was enormous, and though he had faith in her abilities, madness had a way of empowering an individual. Her brother would not be easy to defeat.
“I would thank you, Merrick,” she said softly.
Irritation surged through his veins. Frustration. “It’s not your thanks I want, Isabella.”
She looked away, turned away from him, her expression uncertain.
Guilt plagued him. She should be focusing on her upcoming challenge, not be distracted his needs.
“Forget I said anything,” he murmured. “You should direct all your energy to the upcoming challenge.”
He motioned for her to precede him from the room, and they trailed after Father Ling. Relief shadowed her face which only served to darken his mood.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Their path to the platform in the middle of the town square was impossible. Guards lined the perimeter, making it difficult for anyone to come from the crowd. Intermixed in the throng were several soldiers, all keeping a keen eye on the villagers gathered for the coronation.
Isabella stood anxiously beside Merrick, awaiting the distraction the monks had planned. She surveyed the platform where the Royal Guard stood at attention. At the forefront stood Stephane, his expression triumphant. Anger shook her when she saw he wore the same ceremonial robe her father had worn at his coronation. Merrick’s hand closed over her arm, soothing her wrought nerves.
Her eyes narrowed when she saw the members of the Order, standing shoulder to shoulder behind Stephane.
Isabella stiffened. Were they there to proclaim that the old ways would be done away with? Not if she could help it. She glanced around anxiously, wondering when the distraction the monks had planned would take place.
“It won’t be long,” Merrick murmured beside her.
“My fellow countrymen. All citizens of Leaudor. Gather around and hear me.”
