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Chapter Twenty-Four
Confident in his friend’srecovery from his multiple near-death encounters, Crispin ventured from his chamber, allowing Henry and Ivy to discuss this fresh, new beginning. He hoped he had not misplaced his trust in pardoning Ivy and allowing her to remain in his kingdom. After a lengthy conversation with his bride and confirming certain details of her role in Simon’s coup, he found himself loathe to allow her to remain within his kingdom, but he could not argue against her affection for Henry or her loyalty to Ruby. She had ample opportunity to make her escape to safety, and yet she chose to remain by Henry’s side and even went as far as to aid their escape from the dungeon where Simon left them to rot.
He ventured to the one spot where he knew he would find his mother. The king’s private garden. Over the past few days, he neglected to seek her out. Shame filled him for being such a pitiful son. Had he been Francis, the true Francis, he would have sought an audience with her sooner. Much sooner. The truth was, he dreaded the thought of facing her after Simon revealed the truth of his actions concerning the assassination of his father.
Crispin paused outside the garden and took a deep, fortifying breath. He faced the privy council, Henry, a horde of angry villagers, and the confused guests who left in shock after the feast. He could certainly face his own mother. Only a few nights had passed, and yet the whole kingdom was alight with the tale of Simon’s duplicity and Crispin’s near demise. To their benefit, they did not paint Crispin the hero of the hour, alas, that honor was bestowed upon the rightful bearer. His mother, the lioness of Meradin.
When he stepped into the garden and closed the door behind him, the chill of the approaching winter months burrowed beneath the layers of fabric. He rounded the small alcove and found her sitting on the stone bench wrapped in a wool cloak and cradling a mug of steaming herbal tea in her hands. She glanced up at his appearance and smiled. Her kind eyes warmed him instantly.
“Crispin, join me.” She slid to the right and patted the stone bench beside her. “We have much to discuss.”
He nodded and took the offered seat. Words failed him. How could he face her? In the midst of it all, she never lost sight of who she was and her dedication to the people of Meradin. He failed her in so many ways, and yet she still welcomed him with open arms and unconditional love.
“You met with the privy council this morning?” She sipped her tea.
“Aye,” Crispin replied with a nod. “They have agreed to forgo a trial considering Simon’s public confession.”
“I am pleased to hear it. Delaying the inevitable will only prolong the work we must do to heal the kingdom.” A note of relief painted her words.
Crispin relaxed as the conversation continued. “After I told them of his actions toward Henry and Ruby, they have given me complete authority in selecting his punishment.”
His mother searched his face for a long moment without speaking before heaving a heavy sigh. “’Tis your right. What Simon inflicted upon Henry was cruel, but...” She bit her lip when a sob escaped. Tears filled her eyes. “To have your child ripped from your body in such a manner...I cannot imagine the agony Ruby endured. My heart aches for her.” Her hand rested over her heart, and her gaze focused on the angel statue amid the barren rose bushes.
“Simon will pay for his cruelty and for the suffering he inflicted with such obvious pleasure.” Crispin sneered, his passion overruled any sensible control he possessed. “I will ensure he receives a punishment befitting his crimes.”
“Forgive me for not speaking of my doubts sooner, but ’twas not until Ruby returned with Simon I knew without question he was not my son.” She reached out and cupped Crispin’s cheek in her hand. “Francis was a kind soul and a gentle man. He would never have acted against you in such a manner.”
Crispin bristled at the praise she foisted upon his deceased brother. “Ah yes, the golden prince. A martyr for the kingdom of Meradin.” Scorn laced his voice, but deeper than that, shame twisted and writhed in the pit of his stomach. He folded his arms across his chest and pulled away from her touch.
“Crispin.” She grasped his arm hard, and he turned to meet her intense gaze. “You are not your brother. I love you both equally, but you will never be Francis. You will never be your father. You are Crispin Saville, my son, the Prince of Whispers, gifted with a silver tongue and the power of persuasion. If anyone can turn this tragedy into a blessing, ’tis you. I have never been more proud of you as a son or as a king.”
A knot formed in the pit of his stomach and slowly rose into his throat, choking him. “Even though I failed to save Francis from the fire? And attempted to pay someone to kill my own father?” He scoffed at the pain flashing in her blue eyes.
She released him and clutched the mug tightly between her hands. Tension filled the silence between them. Crispin raised his gaze to the heavens and closed his eyes. He was a fool to think she would forgive him for such a blatant betrayal.
“I am deeply wounded by this revelation,” she spoke slowly, her tone measured and brimming with unchecked emotion. “But it does not surprise me.” Their gazes locked once more and tears marred her loving face. “He was wrong to blame you for Francis’s death. You were never going to be like Francis, and that was what he expected from you.”
Crispin snorted as irritation filled him.
“We argued about it the night he banished you from the castle.” She stared into the contents of her mug. “While I knew you needed a change, something to pull you from the hedonistic dredges in which you found yourself mired, I was not convinced stripping you of your funds and title would indeed garner the desired effect.”
“Threatening to disinherit me completely made me reconsider my life, Mother.” He could not keep the disdain from tarnishing his reply even though her confession made his heart twist inside his chest.
“I prayed you would find something to set you back in his good graces.” She smiled. “Ruby was a gift from God, but it was not her alone who changed your heart or your actions. Those changes came from deep within you over time.”
