Isabella stared at the monk in shock. That Stephane had embarked on the quest and failed was more than she could comprehend. But it was all beginning to make sense. What else would make Stephane so desperate?
She had thought it insane for him to go to such lengths to procure a crown that would be his anyway. She had never dreamed he had been removed from consideration. Which meant that she or Davide would have been the next ruler behind their father.
Stephane who had spent a lifetime preparing for nothing else than to rule. It must have destroyed him.
“Your father saw the darkness growing within the young prince,” Father Ling said solemnly. “The restlessness, the haste to make bad decisions. Your father had hoped he was wrong, but in the end he was proved right when Prince Stephane failed in the quest.
“After his failure, the prince was unapproachable. He sequestered himself for days, refusing to see anyone. Your father realized he would have to do something to ensure the safety of the rest of the family. But before he could act…”
He broke off. “You know the rest,” he said quietly.
Isabella knotted her fingers into a fist and pressed her knuckles to her lips. If only she had known. She could have prevented the deaths of her parents.
“You could not have prevented that which was fated to be,” Father Ling said softly.
She looked up at him, the knowledge burning in his wise old eyes. “Tell me, Father, what is fated to be? Will I be queen?”
He looked sadly at her. “You know I cannot reveal the future even if I knew such matters.”
She looked down, sadness, fatigue, despair creeping over her, invading every corner of her soul.
“What troubles you most, my child?” he asked.
She flinched as the question intruded on the heart of just what troubled her. Merrick. How did he fit into the equation? She had yet to tell him of her feelings. Hadn’t finished sorting them out for herself.
“I love him, Father,” she said simply.
“He is a good man.”
She raised her eyes to meet his once more. “Yes, but is it enough?”
The monk’s expression softened. “What is it that you are really asking?”
She sighed and covered her face with her hands, rubbing her eyes with slow, circular movements. “I don’t know what to do,” she said helplessly.
“I think you do,” he said gently.
She raised her head and looked questioningly at him.
“You are who you are, and he is who he is,” Father Ling said, an enigmatic expression on his face. “You would not want half a man. He would not be happy with half a woman.”
Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips in confusion. She was too tired to decipher riddles.
A knock sounded at the chamber door and another monk appeared. “Father, the captain is here at your request.”
“Ahh good,” Father Ling said, nodding his head approvingly. “Tell the captain we will join him shortly.
He turned back to Isabella. “We must hurry if we are to prevent Prince Stephane from taking the throne. His coronation is set for an hour’s time.”
“Stephane has already planned his coronation?” she demanded, sitting upright on the pallet.
Father Ling nodded. “That is why I have summoned the captain of the Royal Guard here. We must act quickly.”
“But he failed the quest!” she exclaimed. “How can he be crowned if he doesn’t produce the relics?”
“Desperation always makes a way,” Father Ling replied. “He has bent many of the Order to his cause. They will vote to rescind the laws regarding succession.”
“Over my dead body,” she vowed, launching herself to a standing position.
