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But only two soldiers answered his call. Realizing the inevitable, Bannaster slowly backed up the stairs as Alderley’s men gathered below to glare at him.

“The king will hear of this,” Bannaster said as he reached the top.

“Go ahead and tell him,” John taunted. “You don’t have the courage to bring my name up.”

Wearing a triumphant grin, Bannaster turned and went back inside.

* * *

When Bannaster returned, Elizabeth was staring at King Henry, the man who could decide her fate. Bannaster looked out of breath, but he was smiling as he put his arm around the king and turned him as if to speak alone—as alone as two men can be with various councilors present. Both men occasionally glanced at her, as if she were being discussed. King Henry frowned as he spoke to his cousin, and she knew Bannaster was fighting hard for this marriage.

Elizabeth’s future was being decided for her; she’d always been an active participant in it. Even her decision to marry Bannaster had been her own.

Now the king might be able to help her, but she would have to risk anything he decided. The thought of baring her heart and soul, without knowing the result, was the most terrifying thing she’d ever faced.

But the risk was something she had to take. What good was control, if she was never going to be happy?

Slowly she walked toward the dais. The crowd parted for her, and whatever they saw on her face made a silence spread outward like waves in a pond. She saw Bannaster’s expression change from curiosity to worry to outright fear. He tried to take the king’s arm and lead him away, but too late—the king had seen her as well. He waited patiently until she came to a stop below them both.

And dropped to her knees. Her gown spread out about her, gleaming golden in the torchlight. The high, stained-glass windows shone down on her as well; she’d chosen her position wisely.

It was the last thing she could control. Now her entire life rested in the hands of one man.

Twenty-Five

John, now standing hidden within the crowd in the great hall, saw the moment that Elizabeth began her purposeful walk to the king. He felt like a failure. Elizabeth’s people had wanted to fight for her, to win her freedom—and theirs. And John had been forced to back down.

When he had seen her in that golden gown, dressed as the heiress she was, his heart had almost stopped beating, so above him did she seem. Yet the woman who’d brazenly bedded him was there, too, trapped within the role she’d been given in life, the role she’d agreed to honor.

He’d almost wished she had seen his face, so she could decide between Bannaster and him one last time. Or was it, at last, time to declare himself?

When she dropped to her knees before the king, in a silent hall where even breathing had stopped, he felt himself caught in a strange moment in time.

Was he about to lose her to duty?

Or win her love?

“King Henry!” Elizabeth called in a strong, clear voice.

Bannaster tried to laugh. “My dear, if you’re so impatient to begin the ceremony, there is no need for theatrics. I’m certain we can⁠—”

“King Henry,” she said again, “I have need of your help.”

The king stepped forward, the tiny circlet of gold on his head glittering in the light. “I am sorry to hear that your betrothed has not arrived, Lady Elizabeth. But it is good that you wish to settle this great inheritance that you have borne with dignity.”

“Your Majesty, I do not wish to be the bearer of unsettling news, but I can remain quiet no longer.”

Bannaster tried to take the king’s arm, but King Henry was now frowning at her. “What distresses you, lady?”

“Lord Bannaster claimed that in needing to protect me from the suitors who had begun to quarrel over my hand, he had to keep me secluded from my friends, from my people. He might have had the best motives, Your Majesty, but imprisonment is imprisonment.”

A shocked gasp moved through the crowd, and John pushed closer to the center of the hall, his hand on the sword hidden beneath his cloak. Elizabeth risked much by speaking out against Bannaster.

“You were not imprisoned,” Bannaster scoffed.

“Nay, but only because I switched places with my maidservant in a quest to free myself without bringing harm to my people. But Your Majesty, my betrothed is alive. I love him, and I wish to marry him.”

John almost stumbled as her words shocked him. She was risking the king’s censure, her own inheritance, everything—for him.