by Sarina Dorie
When the king passed one of the mates known for his amusing shanties, Errol could almost hear the rhythm of a new song being played in the man’s mind. Muse magic was at work, drawing out the essence from the most artistic. Energy swirled above their heads and settled onto the king like dewdrops collecting on leaves before they were absorbed.
The king passed Errol without even glancing his way. Errol supposed that was for the best. It meant he’d gone unnoticed by the king, which was what he’d hoped for. The next day, the captain presented him with a letter from the Silver Court. He was being reassigned.
Again.
This time it was to the cavalry.
“I don’t know who you pissed off, my boy, but he’s seen to it that you aren’t going to make the position of captain anytime soon.” Captain Kenelm said.
Errol thought back to all the rich people he’d probably vexed over the years. Perhaps one of Alma’s former employers was friends with the king, and this was his way of punishing Errol for his insolence.
Before Errol transferred to the cavalry, he was permitted two days of break in between and visited his sister. Now that she was older, she was pretty, even in her gray kitchen maid uniform. It was just the two of them in the kitchen as she kneaded bread dough for dinner that night. Her cheeks were rosy, and she glowed with more happiness than he’d ever seen in her.
She served him a tray of apples, cold sausage, and cheese for lunch. It was divine after ship food. The best part was the biscuits filled with marzipan she had baked fresh that day. There was nothing like almond and cacao to lift his spirits. He considered telling her about his new assignment, but he wanted to savor the simple pleasure of the moment.
It didn’t surprise him when she confided she had a beau.
“Son of a succubus!” he said. “Why do you have to do something foolish like that? You’re going to get yourself fired for certain, and this time it will be your fault, not mine.”
“Hush!” she whispered. “Someone will hear you.”
“This is a good job, and you aren’t likely to find another one like this anytime soon.”
“I know. I’ll be careful. I’m always back before curfew, and I never let my social life interfere with my duties.” She was quiet as she spoke, but her eyes were full of such mischief, he would have known she was talking about a man—or some other form of trouble.
Errol crossed his arms. “What does he do? Can he support you?” He’d been saving his money for her dowry for years—ever since Sarah had run off with her new husband and Errol’s savings. He’d had to restart, and it wasn’t enough to support his sister if she married and this man was some riffraff.
“He’s a butcher’s son and works for his father. I imagine he’s well off enough to take a wife, but we haven’t broached the subject yet.” She blushed and avoided his gaze.
“How long has he been your beau?” Errol asked. She hadn’t mentioned the man in her letters.
“About two years.” She gazed off dreamily. “He’s so handsome. And perfect. I could listen to him talk about lamb chops for hours.”
Lamb chops? Errol grimaced. This wasn’t like his sister at all. “I know his type. He probably flirts with every lass that comes into his shop.”
“He does not! You haven’t even met him, and you’re criticizing him.” She flopped dough onto the table, flour flying everywhere.
“Prove it to me, then,” Errol said. “Take me to meet him.” He shoved his last bite of roll into his mouth, ready to leave.
“I can’t. I have to work.” She gestured to the dough she was kneading.
He said around a mouthful, “Tell me where to find him. I want to meet this man and see if he’s worthy of you.” He swallowed. “I’ve been saving a dowry for you to start a family of your own. I need to make sure this man isn’t going to spend all your money on drink and squander it away.”
She waved a dough-covered hand at him, getting flour in the air. “No. I know how you are. You’ll stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong and punch him or do something rash.”
“That was years ago. I was just a lad when I punched your employer’s son. As for that horrible noble lady—I didn’t do anything to her but sass off when I shouldn’t have. And if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”
A sheepish smile crossed her face. “And I would never have met Swidhun.”
Swidhun, the butcher’s son. That was a lead if he was going to search for the man.
“What’s this Swinehun look like?”
“Swidhun,” she corrected. “He’s handsome, of course. He has blond hair and brilliant green eyes. Also, he’s very clever with limericks.”
Errol didn’t think his sister even liked limericks. Then again, he hardly saw her at all these days. Mostly it was only through letters that he corresponded with her. He suspected he might not know his baby sister anymore. She had grown up without him and fallen in love. He didn’t want to deny her that happiness. Even so, he intended to make sure the butcher’s son wasn’t a rake.
Errol stayed for another hour, then he left to find the butcher. He got directions from a street urchin, a Witchkin child who took him there in exchange for a piece of copper. Errol asked for Swidhun but was told no one by that name worked there. Errol tried two more butchers after that.
At the third butcher, the woman at the counter scowled at Errol when he asked for Swidhun. “What business do ye have with me husband?”
It was difficult to determine the woman’s age. Many Fae aged so slowly, it was hard to tell whether she was twenty or five hundred.
“Do you have a son? Swidhun junior?” Errol asked, hoping it was the case.
The woman glared at him. “Is that supposed to be a jest? We donnae got no bairns at all.”
Many Fae didn’t these days. Errol supposed that was a touchy subject for a couple.
“I beg your pardon. Where might I find your husband?” Errol hoped he wasn’t the fair-haired Swidhun with green eyes that his sister had described.
“He’s out back, butchering a pig. What’s your business with me husband?” the butcher’s wife asked again.
Errol edged toward the exit. “I’m not certain just yet.”
Errol left the building and stepped around back. He wasn’t completely surprised to find a tall blond man with a Witchkin woman on his lap. Errol knew she wasn’t Fae from the taste of her magic in the air, a mixture of wind and water that reminded him of his previous occupation.
“Swidhun?” Errol asked.
The man broke away from the woman. His eyes were brilliantly green, though he wasn’t particularly handsome. Perhaps someone in love might feel differently, but Errol could only look upon him with disgust.
The young woman in Swidhun’s arms was no more than a teenager if her features were a true representation of her age. She gazed dreamily at the butcher, not caring that she stroked his blood-stained apron. From the vapid smile on her face, she looked enchanted.
Errol wasn’t yet adept at sensing curses and hexes, but he could tell there was something there, a cord of magic running from Swidhun to the young woman, sunk into her like an anchor from a ship.
“Aye, that’s my name.” Swidhun looked Errol up and down. “If you have business, you can go inside, and me wife will settle it for you.” He grinned at Errol and winked. “I’ve got my hands full right now.” He slapped the girl on the rump.
She giggled, drunk on the love spell he’d snared her with.
Errol was glad he hadn’t promised he wouldn’t punch his sister’s beau in the face.
* * *
The moment Errol returned to Alma, he found her crying in the kitchen, another maid consoling her.
She stood, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You did something horrible. I can feel it.”
Errol suspected the horrible feeling was the withdrawal from the love spell. She wailed when Errol broke the news to her and told her the truth about Swid
hun.
Her face turned splotchy and red. “You’re lying. You just don’t want me to be happy.”
“You know that’s not true. I want you to be with someone who will take care of you and have your best interests at heart.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Someone who isn’t already married.”
“He isn’t married. You’re just saying that to turn me against him.” She pulled away from him.
“He’s enchanted you with some kind of spell. But I made him break it.” After Errol had broken the man’s nose.
She threw a rolling pin at him. It missed and hit a metal mixing bowl with a clatter, knocking a heap of vegetables to the ground. Two other maids came rushing in to see what the fuss was about.
“Get out!” Alma pointed to the door. “Every time you show up, you just try to ruin my life. Well, I’m done with you.”
Errol had been trying to help. Just like the times before. This time, he supposed he’d gone too far, even if it had been warranted. With his sister vexed with him, he had no other friends to go to. He’d lost his job on two ships, and in another day, he’d be starting another—at the bottom of the barrel again.
Errol couldn’t imagine he’d ever feel more alone than at that moment.
He was wrong, of course.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Royal Guard
Errol didn’t care for unicorns or pegasi, which were what the cavalry rode. It wasn’t that he’d ever had any particularly bad experiences with equines; he just lacked experience riding, and he didn’t particularly care for their hooves trampling on his feet.
The only consolation was that Errol didn’t have to swab any decks. Instead he spent hours picking up unicorn excrement.
Errol’s new employment was in the capital, on the other side of the fortressed city of Ffynnoncaernpenrhynpentre, far from where his sister worked.
Errol could have gone to visit Alma on his day off, but he didn’t want her to send him away like the last time. He respected her wishes and didn’t visit, hoping she might write to him. Then again, he hadn’t sent her a forwarding address. He hadn’t even told her he’d been reassigned. After the first couple of weeks, Errol’s schedule became busier. Though he would have liked to visit Alma, he hardly got a day off.
A month later in the market, while searching for a bakery that made marzipan biscuits like what his sister made, he heard a woman squeal his name. She looked vaguely familiar. From the gray of the woman’s uniform, he knew she was a maid.
“You’re Alma’s brother!” she said.
“Aye,” he said. He half expected she might strike him after the way his sister had carried on. He had no idea what Alma might have told the other maids in the house about him.
“You’re alive!” She patted his arms, as if checking to see if he were real. “And unharmed?”
“Why would I be harmed? Did you think Alma had beaten me?” His brow furrowed. He was completely lost.
“You’ve got to go see your sister straightaway. She tried sending you a letter, but a message came back to her from the air navy informing her that your airship crashed across the border, and all the crew were captured by the Raven Court and executed.”
He stared at her incredulously. “Are you talking about the Mona Lisa?” His friends and crew, the captain with his jovial ways, all those people were dead?
“Aye.” She grabbed him by the arm, hauling him off with her. “Alma needs to see you with her own eyes. She was beside herself with sorrow, hating herself for being so cross with you before you left for battle, only to never see you again. I know she’ll be pleased to see you.”
Indeed she was. She threw her arms around him, overjoyed he was alive.
“What happened to the Mona Lisa?” he asked.
She filled him in, but Errol was too numb with shock to fully comprehend her words. That crew had been like a family to him. How could they all be dead?
Errol hadn’t heard the news himself. Battles, crashing ships, and even death at the hands of the enemy were a normal part of being in the military, but twice now Errol had been transferred to another branch of the military just before a fatality had struck his ship. At first he’d considered the transfers to be a punishment.
Now he wondered whether it was some kind of blessing.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Price of a Favor
Errol served in the cavalry for another five years. He remained youthful, as many healthy Fae did at his age. His sister continued working in Mistress Cadwynn’s house. She took up with another beau—this time one not married. Errol didn’t like the man, but he made certain not to say anything about it. Nor did he approve of her clandestine meetings with this beau when it could cost her job. However, Errol held his tongue.
He didn’t want Alma to be unhappy on account of him. If there was one person Errol couldn’t risk losing again, it was his sister and her good opinion of him.
Eventually the commander of the royal guard wrote Errol a letter. Errol dreaded the news, afraid he was about to be transferred again.
Lieutenant Errol,
It has recently come to my attention, by way of my superiors, that you are an officer of exemplary conduct and skill. I have seen a list of your achievements and am impressed.
Due to your experience in multiple branches of the military and your superior work ethics, you would make an excellent candidate for a subdivision of the cavalry. Your background in land, sea, and air tactics gives you an advantage over other candidates with less familiarity of that diverse array of dangers.
Your name comes with glowing recommendations from your previous and current supervising officers. That, coupled with the interest of the king himself in making you an enlisted officer, and one such as myself cannot ignore the order to invite you to consider a position as one of the king’s royal guard.
We look forward to hearing from you.
Major Wigbergt
Errol stared at the letter in shock. His previous superior officers had recommended him for a position he hadn’t applied to? Errol had assumed all his previous supervising officers were dead, and it was quite possible they were, but then, the king’s word trumped any lack of endorsement. Only, it was too incredible to believe the king himself had suggested him for the position.
Errol had thought he was completely invisible to the king. If anything, he’d thought he might have made the king cross for punching that noble in the face on Alma’s behalf years ago. He’d thought his sudden changes in military branches had been demotions to punish him. Now he could see what a blessing they were. He knew a greater variety of military tactics and the magics that came with different areas of training. This would be a useful skill for someone defending the royal family from other courts.
Perhaps his father going to the king to petition assistance for Errol truly had meant something. But a simple leather scabbard was hardly an equal bargain for the king of the Silver Court, beautiful as it had been. When Errol closed his eyes, he could still see the Celtic designs burned into the leather.
It was quite probable this favor the king had done for Errol would require one in return, as was the Fae custom. As a military man, Errol had already pledged his life and loyalty to his king and kingdom. What more was there to give his king in exchange for this position?
If his life were a fairy tale, accepting this rise in rank and position might mean Errol was trading his soul in a bargain with the devil. He hoped his sovereign was too good and just to expect that from him.
CHAPTER SIX
Alms for Alma
Errol accepted the honor of a position in the king’s royal guard. This branch was considered a prestigious subdivision in the cavalry. He transferred that week and was congratulated by the friends he had made.
It was the first time he wasn’t transferred involuntarily. It was also the first time he wasn’t starting at the bottom. He was given a raise, his own quarters, and the rank of an enlisted officer as a
second lieutenant. The dress code was strict; those working in the castle had to wear a silver uniform with a matching silver hat. Errol liked the idea of wearing a hat that would hide his troublesome hair color.
Errol wanted to laugh with joy and share the news with Alma, but he still couldn’t believe his luck. Surely someone had made a mistake.
Then again, his good luck might result in someone else’s misfortune as it had in the past. He waited to hear news that something awful had happened to those in his former unit, but no such news came. Perhaps the incidents before had simply been coincidences.
When he told his sister, Alma congratulated him by baking him a special almond cake with marzipan filling. Each bite was too sweet, success not feeling right on his tongue.
Being in the royal guard, Errol was stationed in and near the same glittering castle he had admired as a lad. In his leisure time, he took walks on the grounds, exploring the exterior and familiarizing himself with the landscape. He gazed up at the polished alabaster surface with awe. The walls were almost translucent, light glowing from within.
During one of his explorations, Errol heard about the position of an assistant cook that had just opened up and put in a good word for his sister. Apparently, the last assistant cook had gone mad.
The head cook, a round woman with salt-and-pepper hair, eyed Errol with interest. “This sister of yours isn’t prone to hysteria, is she?” The cook glanced at two giggling scullery maids in the corner who had their heads bent together as they gossiped. “I don’t need any more harebrained cumbergrounds around these parts.”
“No. She’s got a solid head on her shoulders and has plenty of experience.” Errol hoped both were true of her these days. He didn’t like being a liar.
Errol supposed he should have told Alma about the job first, before speaking to the cook himself, but he was so excited at the prospect of his sister working near him, he rushed to tell her as soon as he finished his shift.
Alma lifted her nose up in the air when he told her. “There you are again, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”