Read The Opal Crown for Free Online

small room with stone walls, a cot in the corner, a wooden stool, a chamber pot, and nothing else. After the guards leave and lock the door behind them, I set about pushing at the stones, hoping to find an opal. But after several hours of searching, I have to concede it’s hopeless.
    I sink onto the bed. The only sound in the cell is the muffled gulping of my own quiet sobs. It feels as though something unlocks in my heart and the girl I once was—the girl who cried and craved another’s love—rises up, screaming and calling me a fool.
    I had love. All these months, I had someone who loved me—someone who I loved in return. But I was too blind to see it. Too ignorant to understand that love isn’t something that just happens to you one day. It sneaks up on you in the dailiness of life, until you can no longer imagine that same life without the person you love.
    I wish I could erase the pain I saw in Stefan’s eyes. I wish he would have let me explain. But mostly, I wish I had just told him the truth months ago. I wish I had valued him more than I valued my own safety. But I did not. Whether I’m sentenced to execution, or shown mercy, I’ve lost him. All he’ll ever believe is that I was a traitor, bent on deceiving him.
    At this thought, my sobs turn to full-blown shrieks, until many hours later, when I finally fall asleep.
    8
    I n the morning, the door opens and a guard appears with a plate of bread and cheese. I sit up and rub my swollen eyes. The guard motions to someone standing just outside the door, and my heart begins pounding—hoping that Stefan has come to hear me out.
    Instead, Lord Royce strides into the room.
    “What are you doing here?” I say, then answer my own question. “You’re the messenger Andrei sent, aren’t you?”
    Lord Royce ignores me and turns to the guard; the distinct clink of coins changing hands echoes through the cell.
    “Ten minutes,” says the guard as he exits the room.
    Lord Royce settles himself on the wooden stool. He’s wearing his emerald robe identifying him as a member of Galandria’s Guardian Council. “Are you being treated well here?”
    “Better than I ever was in the Opal Palace, but that’s not saying much. You and your friends never knew anything about hospitality.”
    “Lord Murcendor and Lord Quinlan were never my friends.”
    As we look at each other, I’m determined not to beg for his help, not to ask him about Stefan, though everything within me clamors to do so.
    “I imagine these are not the circumstances under which you wished to see me again,” he says finally. “Just before he died, your father told Andrei of your existence. He told him, too, how both you and your sister were sent to Korynth. Your brother was quite outraged, and shortly after being proclaimed king, dispatched me to collect the both of you.”
    “Collect me?” I say. “Is this how the Andewyns will always treat me? As a possession, to be used or disposed of at will?”
    “Your brother is a king now. This means he can treat you—or anyone else in his kingdom—however he pleases.”
    “But how did he—how did you —know that I’m Elara and not Wilha?”
    “I didn’t know ; I merely suspected. I suggested to the crown prince that the easiest way to tell if the girl living in his castle was Wilhamina Andewyn was to question her.”
    “How is he?” I ask, unable to help myself. “How is Stefan?”
    “Heartbroken and outraged. You should be thankful he hasn’t paid you a visit.”
    “Thankful? You do realize your actions may have just ruined whatever peace existed between Kyrenica and Galandria. Ezebo could easily declare war over something like this, couldn’t he?”
    “He could, but he will not. Your brother is bending over backward to appear a diplomatic ruler, sincerely sickened by the deceptions of his father. He has offered to let the Strassburgs keep as many of Wilha’s masks as they should like, and has invited Ezebo to be his special guest in Allegria