The Road of Kings: A Strong Woman in the Middle Ages (A Medieval Tale Book 8)

by Lina J. Potter

  "And you seem fine with involving Count Earton in it," Miguel remarked snidely.

  "The count isn't a stranger in Wellster, largely thanks to his wife." Altres was quick on the draw.

  Jerisson threw him a not very kind look but decided to let it go. He could forgive a lot of things to a bearer of such good news.

  "And we are strangers," Lydia hissed.

  "I would never dare to say it to you, Your Highness."

  "Then I'll have to translate your implications into words," she snapped.

  "Your Highness, I am not at liberty to object to you."

  "And to me?" Maria's look was pure ice.

  "Even more so, Your Highness."

  "I want to go with you."

  "Put me to death, Your Highness, but later, when I'm done with our enemies."

  "You won't take me?" Maria understood everything pretty quickly.

  "No, Your Highness."

  "I can be useful to you. My mother's there."

  "No."

  His tone made it clear to everyone: there was no use arguing it.

  Maria turned away, left, and slammed the door.

  Altres Lort looked at Miguel with a measure of sympathy.

  "Your Highness, forgive me, but nobody else can do it. I mean, protect the ladies."

  Lydia started shaking. She burst out behind Maria and also slammed the door shut. The door was pretty heavy, so it didn't work quite as well as she expected.

  The men exchanged looks and continued drawing up a plan. They had precious little time, and they still needed to talk things over, sleep at most until noon, and head out. By the evening, they would be in Cardin.

  ***

  All of that didn't prevent Miguel from scratching at his sister's door two hours later.

  "Lee! Lee!!!"

  Lydia opened up almost immediately.

  "What do you want?"

  Miguel stepped into his dear sister's chambers, closed the door firmly, and grinned.

  "I want to talk to Maria."

  "What for?"

  "Lee, can't you take a hint?"

  Lydia could—and did. A young woman, a possible heiress to the throne of Wellster (Lort had sensibly kept the news about the surviving queen and her sons to himself), a handsome young prince from another kingdom...

  Why not? True, she was engaged to Richard, but Lydia didn't hold a lot of affection for the Ativernan prince. She could play a mean trick on him easily. And if she could, then she should—at least try.

  "Why do it now? Let them leave first."

  "They'll be keeping close tabs on her. Now, however, they're busy packing, and in this chaos..."

  Lydia sighed.

  "I could try. Where will you be waiting?"

  Miguel had already considered that question.

  The best place would be Maria's chambers, but should he risk that much?

  "Could you invite her over? I will wait."

  Lydia rolled her eyes theatrically.

  "You'll owe me, brother."

  "We'll get even. And guard the door, please."

  Lydia glared daggers but didn't argue.

  ***

  Maria wasn't asleep. She paced the room, tried to read a book, but nothing helped. She was even glad that Lydia came. The princess of Ivernea didn't lie; she confessed that Miguel wanted to talk to Maria and was waiting in his sister's chambers, not wishing to compromise her. The girl gave it some thought but ultimately decided to go. In any case, she was too nervous to sleep and had nothing to do. At least it was a distraction.

  And a distraction it was, too, because as soon as she stepped inside Lydia's rooms, Miguel fell on one knee in front of Maria.

  "Your Highness..."

  Lydia smiled wryly and closed the door. She would wait in the corridor.

  That said, she held few doubts about the result. Her brother was unlikely to seduce Maria; she wasn't one to be swayed easily. Still, who could tell? Since the dawn of time, women kept falling for the same old phrases. "I love you." "I'll marry you." "You're the only one." As if those words had a magical effect, crawling into their ears and turning their brains off. What if Maria was no different?

  In the meantime, Maria watched the top of Miguel's head, thinking that by the time he turned forty, he would be completely bald. There was already a hint of a bald spot there, no matter how tiny. His enthusiastic confessions of love flew right past her, rolling down like drops of rain on window panes.

  As she looked at His Highness, she didn't feel anything. True, Miguel was handsome, charming, and smart, and if the circumstances were different... But she didn't have any feelings. Those several days had burned everything right out of her. The flight, the chase, the fear for her own life and the life of her family...

  Love? She had no strength left for any love. In ballads, they sing about a couple meeting on a battlefield and falling in love. It didn't work like that in real life.

  The thing Maria wanted the most at the moment was for the last three days to have never happened.

  She would be playing with Ed and Cor on a bearskin rug next to the fire, Bertha watching them with her kind eyes, and the children would climb into her lap to hug her while she was laughing, and then, Milia would come in and pat her hair, calling her dearest aide...

  Even her father, no matter how much he screamed and how terribly he treated her—she would rather he was alive.

  Suddenly, she realized that even if Gardwig had never loved his daughters, he at least took care of them. He had trusted them to the wrong people, true, but at least he didn't throw them out into the street, didn't order them to be killed—he even tried finding them good husbands.

  Maria remembered the portrait of Richard of Ativerna: he was a stunner. Anna had been stupid to reject him.

  Miguel coughed, and she looked at him, surprised.

  "Your Highness?"

  "Maria, I've loved you since I saw you. You were so proud and lovely in that throne room amidst the glow of diamonds..."

  Miguel was clearly overacting, but she was a girl, a young one, almost a child...weren't they supposed to like such stuff?

  But Maria's dark eyes were calm and emotionless. He was giving a fiery and impassioned speech, pouring his heart out as much as his inspiration allowed him to, but...

  There was no answer. He just as well could speechify before a statue of Aldonai. Still, when he attempted to take her hand, the statue came alive.

  "No!"

  "Maria, I'll never—"

  "Did Lydia leave us alone on purpose? Did she know what we'd talk about? She still isn't back..."

  Miguel couldn't help but look aside. She was correct.

  "I cannot return your feelings," Maria said simply. "Maybe one of my sisters could, but not me, no."

  "But I love you!"

  Maria shrugged.

  "I gave my word. I intend to honor it."

  "It was your father's word, not yours. You haven't even met your fiancé!"

  "Are you suggesting I betray him?"

  "It won't be a betrayal!" Miguel argued hotly. "Don't get me wrong, Maria, you'll have everything! The entire world will open before you, large, amazing—"

  "Let's finish this conversation, Your Highness. It does no credit to either of us."

  ***

  Altres Lort had a different reason to visit Maria. While Miguel wanted to seduce and take her away, Altres had to warn her not to respond to provocations.

  He wasn't going to tell her about Milia and the princes, but he definitely needed to advise her not to listen to the Iverneans. She seemed to be a sensible girl, but Altres knew that nobody was unyielding to the end. And he...he badly needed Ativerna's support, whatever happened.

  If they failed, they would need to hide somewhere. Ativerna was the logical choice, and Princess Maria's marriage would be a real gift for Edward and Richard. Because of her, they would have to get involved in the war and help restore the rightful rulers in Wellster. Of course, they would get their own piece of th
e pie, but sometimes, it was better to lose a piece of the pie than the entire thing. When a wolf gnaws off its paw to get out of a bear trap, it doesn't think of lofty matters; it just wants to survive.

  If Altres' plan worked out, Ativerna's help would still prove useful, indispensable, even. They were their closest neighbors and allies, and a marriage would only serve to confirm that. But if the second princess of Wellster pulled something off... They had forgiven them for the first one, forgiven and forgotten. It wouldn't happen with the second.

  Altres slowly climbed the stairs into the tower where the girls had been placed. He wasn't overjoyed to see a pink dress in the corridor. What could the princess do outside her own door? Why wouldn't she go in?

  Lort coughed. Lydia jumped a foot and turned around, almost falling down.

  "You scared me!"

  "Your Highness, forgive me," Altres said with a courtly bow. Unfortunately, it didn't look especially gallant without a hat, and there was something inherently sarcastic in the jester's whole figure. There was a reason he was a jester, after all.

  Lydia perked her nose up.

  "Well then, I might forgive you if you accompany me to the kitchen. I really need some water, and I can't seem to get any of the servants to hear me."

  Altres smiled sweetly.

  "As you wish, Your Highness. Please wait just a minute; I need to give something to Her Highness Maria."

  Just as he had expected, Lydia didn't let him take another step, grabbing the sleeve of his doublet.

  "I don't want to wait! Are you refusing me?"

  "No, Your Highness," the jester said with a smile. "I'm simply preventing you from making a mistake."

  Lydia almost opened her mouth, shocked by that declaration, and it was enough of an opportunity for Altres to step forward and open the doors of Maria’s room.

  It was empty and quiet.

  He turned back to Lydia, but she was blocking the way to her own rooms for good.

  "I’m going to scream," she warned. "I’ll say that you were molesting me."

  "Go on, then," Altres agreed. "Be as loud as you like. Maybe they’ll think I dishonored you and force us to marry."

  Lydia fluttered her eyelashes, aghast, but didn’t stand aside. It seemed that Altres had no choice but to take drastic action.

  Her words about molesting gave him an idea. Hunch or no hunch, being a jester, he held complete mastery over his body.

  "Ah…" Lydia squealed, but it was too late. She was locked into a steely embraced and kissed, catching her resentful scream in her throat.

  The king’s butcher wasn’t bad with kissing, either. His disability didn’t mean a lack of personal life, and money and a noble title incidentally attracted women like honey attracted flies. Not prostitutes, either: just those who were passionate about…well, the money and the noble title. But experience was experience no matter where you got it.

  Nobody had ever kissed Lydia like that. Nobody even tried, considering her many brothers, her formerly being considered ugly as sin, her being the king’s daughter… That side of life had passed by the princess completely.

  When Altres finally decided to let her go, she stumbled, leaning against the wall. Her lips were moist and swollen, and looking at Lydia, he thought that he wouldn’t have minded continuing. She looked quite fetching with her languid look and disheveled hair.

  But his plan had worked, and the room had lost its guardian. Altres reached out and knocked at Her Highness Lydia’s door.

  ***

  The knock on the door came at just at the right time. Miguel turned around, opened the door, and found himself face to face with Altres Lort, who was calm, content, and wearing a cocky smile on his face.

  "Wh—"

  The prince didn't get the chance to say anything else as Maria almost swept him aside.

  "Your Grace! I'm so happy that you came!"

  Altres took a closer look. The girl wasn't lying. She did seem happy, and she clearly didn't like the conversation. It didn't look like there had been any kisses. Great! Good girl.

  "Your Highness, I was just coming to see you. I want to talk. Could you spare me a few minutes of your time?"

  "Yes, of course!"

  Maria didn't just agree; she was overjoyed.

  "What about His Highness?" Altres asked, indicating Miguel with his eyes.

  He didn't want to start an argument, but letting him off the hook...

  "We're done talking!" Maria snapped. "And I hope that we understood each other. I appreciate your offer, Your Highness, and I hope that you and my future husband can be friends. I will be happy to see you at my wedding in Ativerna."

  Miguel gritted his teeth.

  "Your Highness, and still—"

  "I hope there are no more misunderstandings between us."

  "None, Your Highness."

  "Good," Altres Lort said with a grin befitting a hungry crocodile. "Your Highness, I entrust your sister to you. I can assure you of her chastity."

  "What!" Miguel choked up.

  "What!" Lydia flared.

  "I mean, Her Highness has spent ten entire minutes with me in the corridor. I beg you not to condemn her for that. Her Highness was very persuasive."

  Lydia was furious, not knowing what to say, while Altres Lort snatched Maria by her elbow and was gone, slamming the door shut.

  Miguel looked at his sister with a measure of suspicion. He had noticed her lips and her hair being different.

  "Lydia?"

  He really shouldn't have opened his mouth.

  "Get lost," the princess snapped and threw the first thing lying around at her brother. It was a bowl of apples.

  Miguel caught it on the fly and decided to withdraw.

  An enraged woman was likely to cause injury. She might not kill anyone—she wasn't strong enough—but she could cause enough damage. And if Lort truly had kissed her...

  Miguel couldn't very well demand he marry her, could he? That sounded idiotic: a princess and some count? Too bad, he had failed with Maria, but whatever. Maybe he would get another chance?

  Alone, Lydia rushed around her chambers, swearing like a fishwife at Altres Lort.

  Scum, idiot, bastard, rascal! Ugh!

  ***

  "Your Highness?" In the meantime, Altres Lort was scrutinizing Maria.

  The princess didn't hold things back from him.

  "His Highness proposed to me. I refused."

  "You did the right thing, Your Highness."

  Maria looked at him anxiously.

  "Count, I beg you...save Milia and my brothers! My sisters, too... I'm going crazy! I'm here, and they're in danger in Cardin..."

  "I'll do everything possible and impossible," Altres reassured the girl. "And I implore you to resist any provocations and listen to Leir Olsen."

  "Of course! I promise I will."

  "I'm sure you're prudent enough, Your Highness."

  "And I hope you will return victorious, Count."

  Altres Lort gave an approving nod and started advising Maria on the best course of action in specific cases. She paid attention. That wasn’t some love confession; he was talking business, and she'd do well to listen. She needed to pull herself together.

  If only the count wins! If only everything works out!

  ***

  Maria kept repeating those words well into the night as she looked at the troops marching out, clasping her hands and wringing her fingers.

  If only the count wins! If only everything works out!

  Thankfully, Fort Shedar had its share of towers—every flavor of them. Lydia was standing nearby, her expression aggravated. Maria had explained to her that she could understand her point, but she wouldn't take Miguel even if he were the last man in the world.

  Lydia realized that the problem wasn't Miguel, but she still felt bad for her brother—as well as herself.

  What did that scoundrel think about himself? Was she a kitchen maid? She was a princess, unlike that...that creep!

 
She couldn't very well tell it to Miguel or Maria, either. What kind of situation was that? Lilian Earton would have understood her, but where was the countess? Maybe wherever Altres Lort was headed to. Maybe she was dead. Lort hadn't informed the Iverneans of anything, and they had not a clue.

  Clenching her teeth, Lydia approached Maria.

  "I’m sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

  Without a word, Maria reached out for Lydia, found her hand, and squeezed it. Maria's fingers were icy cold. Both girls were thinking the same thing. It was the first time any of them had seen anyone off to battle. Their lives depended on that regiment.

  Scary? No, it wasn't that. It was something else. The princesses exchanged looks and didn't take their eyes off the troops until the last of them disappeared from the horizon. Then they came downstairs.

  Any fortress had a temple. It might be small and derelict, but still... That's where both girls were headed. Men went to fight, and women were left to pray, that's how it went in the world.

  Aldonai, please protect them. Thy will be done...

  What arguments could be there at such a time?

  Wellster, Cardin.

  "Good day, Duke."

  "Hello, Duke."

  There was one more weakness Alcine couldn't help but indulge in. He had ordered Duke Estorn to be brought into the palace.

  Armand Estorn was one of Gardwig's most ardent supporters. Despite his age—he was in his sixties—he was a tough and resilient man, tough as an old oak. Alcine had never liked him, and it was mutual. The power was in Robert's hands, which is why he had sent mercenaries after Estorn with an order to bring him to the palace. At first, politely.

  Estorn didn't resist. He had ignored the Assembly; he had other things on his mind, namely smuggling his family and friends away. Still, he stayed in the city. He didn't believe his enemy to be less clever than Armand himself. He was right. Armand had his people watch the duke's estate. If they had noticed him pack up or prepare to leave, they would have instantly reported it to Armand.

  Still, Armand was no fool. Two maids had left the mansion, and two returned. Nobody noticed that one of them had a different face. Several servants had gone out of the house to a tavern, spent some time there, and gotten back... Nobody cared about the duke's son, daughter-in-law, and three grandchildren. Armand had everyone move to his estate in Estorn and not stick their nose out until the situation sorted itself out. When things cleared up, they would either raise a rebellion, hide their families, or cut and run, depending on the situation. What mattered was to survive the first days of madness.