“Yes, Your Highness,” he said, rising once more and bowing.
Simon watched from the back of the room. She was clearly in her element and born to rule. She allowed no one to interfere in her sworn objective. Not even him.
His heart lay heavy in his chest. Kirk’s betrayal weighed mightily on him. His love for Isabella consumed him. Thoughts of his brother tortured him.
Simon had killed Edward.Hewas responsible for his brother’s death. If he hadn’t been so consumed with proving his worth to his father, he would never have joined the agency. His unwillingness to be the invisible spare had led to the deaths of both Edward and his father.
His longing for a family had driven him, and he’d found solace in the camaraderie of the service. Kirk had been a brother to him, the sort of brother and relationship he had longed for within his own family.
He closed his eyes, recrimination beating a steady rhythm in his head. That same selfishness had nearly cost Isabella her life as well. He had been a fool to admit his love for her. The look in her eyes when he had said he meant it told him his admission was just one more burden she would have to bear in a time when she needed as few as possible.
Once he saw her safely on the throne on the morrow, he would slip quietly back to England and continue his work in solitude.
“Lord Merrick?” A soldier stood before him.
“Yes, what is it?” he asked looking around him.
“Her Highness wished me to escort you to your chambers so that you might rest. She would enjoy your company for breakfast in the morning.”
He slowly followed the soldier down the hall. Though ludicrous, his hope was to have spent one more night with her. But of course it wasn’t possible. They were in the palace, and she was hours from being crowned queen. Hours from saying goodbye.
* * *
“Your Highness, Montagne has been detained.”
Isabella spun around in her chamber to face the captain of the Royal Guard. “Where is he now?”
“He is being held under guard in his chambers. We await your direction.”
Her lip curled in disgust. “Remove him from his chamber at once. He doesn’t deserve such luxury. Place him in the prison cell as you would any other criminal. I will face him tomorrow when I am queen and fully able to mete out punishment according to the law.”
“As you wish, Your Highness,” he said with a bow. He turned and left the throne room, his steps echoing across the empty room.
She watched as he disappeared then turned back around, wrapping her arms tightly about herself. Her gaze wandered over the dimly lit room her father had spent so much time in, and where he and her mother died.
She closed her eyes as hot tears slipped down her cheeks. The memory of that day played over and over in her mind. In slow motion she saw her mother’s body slip lifelessly to the floor beside her father.
Her head snapped up as she heard herself scream, heard Davide cry out. The room spun crazily around her. She could see Jacques’ smile of satisfaction, see Stephane’s bloody hand as he held it out in triumph. Hear the guards as they closed in around her and Davide. Feel their evil touch.
She opened her eyes and looked over to where she had last seen her parents, afraid that she would see their blood still on the floor. But the marble gleamed under the shine of a fresh polish. It was as if they had never been there.
“I will avenge you,” she whispered, her words reverberating softly over the quiet room. “He will pay for what he has done. I will not let you down, Father.”
Her only answer was deafening silence. She walked slowly to the entrance where two guards attended her safety. She closed the door softly behind her. “Have someone seal this room,” she said to one of the soldiers. “It will no longer be used.”
She walked down the hall to her chambers, her spine stiffening, her shoulders squared. She had laid to rest her parents’ memory, and now that Jacques had been captured, she felt the horrible weight begin to dissipate. When she was queen, she would have a memorial service for her parents and brothers. One fitting to their station.
She paused outside the chamber she had reserved for Merrick, wanting desperately to go within. She placed a hand on the door then slowly let it slide down the wood surface. Her heart heavy, she turned away and hurried down to her own quarters.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After a sleepless night, Isabella’s anticipation had completely encompassed her. Today she would be crowned queen and fulfill her promise to her father.
She had spent the better part of the night analyzing her feelings for the Englishman. He consumed her thoughts, her dreams. But dreams were reserved for the lucky. Those not bound by destiny.
Not even briefly would she consider the possibility of them having any sort of future together. To do so would only bring about the worst kind of heartache. They both had a duty to their countries before all else.
And the man she married must, according to Leaudorian law, be a Leaudorian citizen. Any man not born of her country would have to renounce his loyalty to the country of his birth and swear allegiance to Leaudor.
