A Choice of Crowns. Barb Hendee

      REBEL BASE BOOKS

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

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      Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2018 by Barb Hendee

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      First Electronic Edition: February 2018

      eISBN-13: 978-1-63573-002-9

      eISBN-10: 1-63573-002-3

      First Print Edition: February 2018

      ISBN-13: 978-1-63573-003-6

      ISBN-10: 1-63573-003-1

      Printed in the United States of America

      Prologue

      There’s a story sometimes told on dark nights by families sitting near their hearths seeking ways to entertain one another…

      Long ago, a vain lord enslaved a young witch so that he might use her powers to keep him handsome and young. His most valued possession was an ornate three-paneled mirror in which he could see himself from several angles. Each day, he’d look into its panels and admire his own beauty.

      Seeking revenge on him, the young witch began secretly imbuing the mirror with power, planning to trap him in the reflection of the three panels, where he might view different outcomes of his useless life over and over, and he would suffer to see himself growing old and unwanted.

      Though the young witch had once been kind and generous, her thirst for vengeance twisted her nature into something else. But unknown to her, as she continued to cast power into the mirror, it gained a will and awareness of its own.

      One night, the lord caught her as she worked her magic, and he realized she was attempting to enchant his beloved mirror. In a rage, he drew a dagger and killed her. But her spirit fled into the mirror. Though she had been seeking escape, she was once again enslaved…this time by the mirror itself.

      It whispered to her that it would protect her, and use the power she’d given it for tasks more important than punishing a vain lord. Together they would seek out those facing difficult decisions and show them outcomes of their choices.

      “Wait!” she cried, inside the mirror. “What does that mean?”

      The mirror vanished from the lord’s room, taking her with it.

      And no one knew where it might appear again.

      Chapter One

      I’ve heard it said the most important moments in one’s life pass more swiftly than others. Perhaps it’s true.

      I only know that all my senses were on alert as soon as my father sent for me, asking me to come to his private rooms. Eighteen years old, I’d never once been invited to his rooms. In the past several weeks, he’d been closeted away much of the time, sending and receiving messages, but I had no idea what this was about—as he didn’t see fit to share such intelligence with me.

      Now…he wanted to see me, in his rooms?

      I could hardly refuse, nor in fact did I want to. I was curious.

      Gathering my long green skirt, I nodded curtly to the servant who’d delivered the message and made my way to the base of the east tower of our family keep. I knew exactly where his rooms were located, even if I’d never been inside.

      Upon arriving, I stood with my back straight and knocked on the door.

      “Father? You sent for me.”

      “Come,” he said from the other side.

      With my hand shaking only slightly, I opened the door. Inside, I found a somewhat austere main room that appeared to be a study, with a large desk and chair. There were tapestries of forest scenes on the walls, and an interior door led to a bedroom.

      My father, Hugh Géroux, sat behind his desk working on what appeared to be a letter, but he stood as I entered. In his early fifties, he still cut a striking figure, with a smooth-shaven face, dark hair with a sprinkling of gray, and dark eyes.

      “Olivia,” he said, as if meeting me for the first time.

      We didn’t know each other well, as I was the fifth and youngest of his children. I had two older brothers and two older sisters, and my father had used all four of them carefully to enhance his own wealth and prestige. My mother died of a fever when I was only seven, so my father raised us alone in a manner that was both distant and overbearing at the same time.

      My family, the line of Géroux, was among the old nobility of the kingdom. While past famines and civil wars had destroyed several of the ancient families, ours survived. We were survivors. My father respected strength and nothing else.

      His eyes moved dispassionately from my