by Tanya Bird
She glanced down at her dress. ‘Why not? I’m dressed for a stable outing. Perhaps I could assist with cleaning the tack while I am there.’
Tyron eyed the plain dress. ‘You actually look good as a maid.’
She laughed, despite having no idea if the comment was a joke or a genuine attempt at a compliment. Pero took the basket from her, and she thanked him before he walked off down the corridor. She was imagining Fedora’s composed expression collapsing with the arrival of Tyron’s squire carrying the women’s laundry.
The rest of the castle was coming alive by the time they stepped outside. Maids stood talking, bed linen piled at their feet, ready to be hung. Servants clutching pails of soapy water were waiting for those above them to wake. They scattered like uncovered mice at the sight of Tyron, but he did not seem to notice. She snuck glances at him as she watched the sun rise in front of them. Whenever the breeze stilled, she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth.
‘In Asigow the people worship the sun,’ she said. ‘It makes complete sense.’
Tyron kept his eyes ahead. ‘I’m sure the bishop would suffer heart failure at hearing you say such a thing.’
Aldara tensed up next to him. She could now add blasphemy to her list of failures. ‘Apologies, my lord. I meant no offence to your God.’
‘My God?’
‘Our God. The only true God.’
He studied her for a moment. ‘It makes sense the Asigow people worship the sun because they do not see it very often. Even when the snow stops, the clouds remain.’
‘They must have a lot of trouble growing food.’
They were walking side by side, and Aldara noticed he had a distinct scent, a combination of clean cotton and pine needles.
‘Thinking like a farmer,’ he said.
Her eyes went to her feet. She needed to stop discussing her previous life. ‘Old habits.’
He turned back to the sun. ‘There is no shame in a farming life. We all need food.’
She glanced up at him. ‘I have no shame, my lord. I had a wonderful life.’ She bit her lip to silence her mouth.
‘Had?’
Apparently it had not occurred to him that she might have preferred that life, a harder life.
‘I suppose you miss it. Fedora is no replacement for a mother,’ he said.
She laughed. ‘You have not met my mother. Fedora is delightful in comparison.’ He was watching her. When he did not reply, she added, ‘I am grateful for the opportunities I have been given here.’
He looked at the ground and smiled. ‘What an entirely appropriate response. I have had conversations with Fedora in the past, and you sound just like her.’
His expression confirmed her suspicion that he was teasing her. ‘Then you would also know Fedora does not approve of sarcasm. What would you prefer to hear?’
‘Something honest.’
‘Honesty is not always appropriate for a Companion.’
He was staring at her again. ‘Honesty should always be appropriate. What do lies achieve? Only distrust.’
Aldara laughed again. ‘Think about your own daily existence. How much of it is honest? You must have obligations also.’
‘Ah, so I am an obligation?’
She glanced at him to see if he was teasing her again. He appeared to be enjoying himself. ‘Perhaps we should discuss Galen history before I get myself into trouble.’
‘You can converse with me honestly. There is no need to construct answers that will please me. I would prefer not to second-guess everything you say.’
She was sceptical, but she nodded. Tyron was not done with the conversation.
‘Many of the Companions come from poor living conditions, and this is a privileged life they want desperately.’
‘I believe that is true for many.’
‘But not for you?’ His tone suggested he did not believe her.
‘You are assuming happiness is dependent on wealth, and I can tell you from experience it is not. Some of my fondest memories were born during times of hunger.’
Tyron stopped walking. They had arrived at the stables, but he was not looking at the horses. ‘An honest response, how refreshing.’
Aldara kept her expression neutral. ‘I am glad I was able to construct something that pleased you.’
They stood still for a moment. A groom approached them before anything further could be said.
‘Can I saddle a horse for you, my lord?’
Tyron’s eyes remained on her. ‘Fetch my horse. We need to inspect his condition.’
The groom hurried off and returned moments later, leading the gelding. Aldara stepped out from Tyron’s gaze and held a hand out to the horse. He sniffed at it before nudging her for a pat.
‘I see who is in charge here,’ she said, rubbing his face. The gelding did not object as her hands ran down to his shoulder. There was less heat, and he did not react to the pressure she applied. ‘He seems to have improved.’ She ran her hands all the way to the hoof and lifted it. ‘Though you might want the opinion of an actual marshal,’ she added, before letting go. ‘And his shoe is loose.’
Tyron did not call for the marshal. He did, however, instruct the groom to get the gelding reshoed. Once the horse had been led away, the two of them began a slow walk back up the path. Their time together was coming to an end, and he had no further reason to keep her with him. As they reached the steps of the castle, Pero came running up to them. He stood in front of them, breathless.
‘My lord,’ he panted. ‘The king has urgent news and wishes to see you immediately.’
Tyron nodded. ‘Of course.’ He glanced at Aldara.
She smiled up at him. ‘I pray it is good news, my lord,’ she said, curtsying.
He was already walking away. ‘Good day,’ he whispered.
She watched him until he was out of sight. Then it was time for her to return to her quarters and face Fedora’s scrutiny. As she walked, she lifted her hands to her face so she could once again breathe in the lingering scent of horse. She stopped and looked at her hands. Something else lingered on her skin. It was the scent of clean cotton and pine needles.
Chapter 10
When Tyron entered the throne room, his father was leaning on the back of a chair behind a large, empty table. His face was creased and tight. Pandarus was pacing behind him.
‘What is it?’ Tyron asked, walking over to them.
King Zenas stared at the empty table in front of him, a sixty-year-old family dispute pressing down on his shoulders. Two Archdale brothers, one the rightful heir of the Corneo throne, and the other worthier of ruling. The people had been divided and eventually so had the land. The newly established kingdom of Syrasan was meant to end the ongoing civil war in Corneo. But the solution proved to be temporary. At some point it stopped raining in the East, and the crops in Corneo failed. Syrasan had enough to feed the people and a little left to trade with Galen across the Arossi sea channel. King Nilos of Corneo watched his people starve for some time before sending an army of men to take back some of the fertile land. Sixty years later they were still fighting. Periods of peace aligned with periods of rain. No one fought when there was enough food.
‘My informants tell me King Nilos has laid claim to a section of land in the South.’
His tone was flat. Pandarus continued to pace behind him.
‘What could he possibly want land in the South for? Our people have trouble keeping sheep alive down there.’ He could not fathom another fight so soon. Historically both sides required time to rejuvenate their armies. Syrasan relied on volunteer footmen, and morale was still low. Families were still grieving their losses. ‘Are you sending men?’
Zenas stood up and rubbed his greying beard with both his hands. His eyes crinkled as he thought. ‘Our aim is always a peaceful outcome. Even if we do not always get it. The Syrasan people will begin to think we do not value their lives if we fight.’
Pandarus spoke up before Tyron had a chance to respond
. ‘A swift, firm response will send a clear message. Any display of weakness will just encourage them over the border.’
Easy for him to say, Tyron thought. The man had never fought a battle in his life. ‘We must put pride aside and think of what is best for the kingdom, not just our family. We will soon be dealing with our own food shortages if we send all of our workers to their death. Then what? Do we expect the women and children to provide for the kingdom? Perhaps we can send them off to fight next.’
Pandarus waved his hand, dismissing the comment. Zenas rubbed his forehead and then pulled the chair back from the table. The silver buttons on his tunic strained as he lowered himself into it and let out an exhausted sigh.
‘Tyron is right. We must try to diffuse. Find out what has taken their interest in the South. They may be rebels for all we know.’ He studied his hands, which were pressed flat against the table in front of him. ‘Leave the men in the South be for now. Send a messenger requesting an audience with King Nilos. Both of you will go. Stamitos will remain here.’
Pandarus stopped walking. ‘Is that so you have one living son after we are both killed crossing the border?’ He crossed his arms in front of him.
Zenas turned to face him. ‘Yes. This kingdom will still need an heir if anything should happen.’
Pandarus did not appreciate the honesty. ‘Send Tyron with some men! I am next in line to be king.’
Zenas shot up out of his seat with surprising force. ‘I should be sending only you. It is your duty to manage relations with our neighbours! That is why you do not fight. Your inability to keep hold of a sword means I am forced to send Tyron also, to protect you. You should be thanking me.’ He signalled for them to leave him.
Pandarus turned his clenched face to Tyron. It was an expression Tyron had seen many times, as though Pandarus’s inadequate fighting skills were somehow his fault. Tyron gave a short bow to his father.
‘We will leave today. Just five men so as not to appear threatening. But let’s make it five of our best.’
Zenas nodded. ‘As you wish.’
Pandarus left without saying a word. Tyron predicted the bad mood would accompany them on the journey. He would include Leksi in his five men to perform the role of mediator and protector of his sanity. The other four men Pandarus could choose to allow him to feel in control.
Tyron sent Pero off with preparation instructions. Once his affairs were in order, he made his way to the hall to fill up on roasted duck, soup, and bread. There were no food guarantees while travelling. When he could eat no more, he stepped out into the corridor half expecting to see Aldara standing across from him, a basket of laundry on her hip. He stood looking down the empty corridor. Moments later he found himself standing outside of the Companions’ quarters. He could hear the hum of conversation from the women inside. The air smelled of perfumed oil and burning wood. He had just decided to leave when Fedora walked out and noticed him.
‘My lord,’ she said, genuinely surprised. ‘I am so sorry, I had no idea you were here. What can I do for you?’ She took a few steps towards him.
The problem was Tyron did not have an answer. ‘Nothing. That is, I wanted to let you know I will be away for a week or two. Or rather, Pandarus and I will be away.’
They both knew there was no need for him to advise her of such things in person. Those messages were usually sent via a squire or messenger.
‘I appreciate you taking the time to inform me, my lord.’ She paused. ‘Would you like any assistance with preparations for your journey?’
He was already walking away. ‘No. Thank you.’
He almost walked straight into Aldara, who had just arrived behind him. She was holding a book against her chest, and her cheeks were flushed from the sun. Aldara glanced at Fedora, who discreetly reminded her to curtsy.
‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ she said, curtsying.
He nodded at her. Fedora excused herself in hope it would ease his discomfort. The two of them were left alone.
‘I was just telling Fedora that I will be away for a while. Possibly a few weeks,’ he said.
‘Oh. So it was not good news then?’
He did not respond to that point. ‘I am afraid my horse’s rest period will be cut short.’
‘It appears yours also. Any business that takes you from your home so soon must be of some importance.’
He nodded again. ‘I should be going.’ He gave her a wide birth before starting down the corridor.
‘My lord,’ she called after him. He stopped and turned around. ‘Injured or not, he will return you home. He always does.’
‘Yes, he does.’ He nodded again before disappearing.
When the seven men rode out that afternoon, Tyron glanced once at the north wing where the Companions’ quarters were located. He was annoyed at himself for being distracted. All he could think about was what he intended to do with her. He would need to find a use for her or someone else would. Pandarus would hand her around to his guests, and she would do what she was told, without question, and with all the grace that had been instilled in her. Perhaps he would not return and the decision would be out of his hands. No, that was not better. In that scenario he would be dead. He blinked away the thoughts of her and tried to focus on the task at hand. First, he had to stop a war.
Chapter 11
The women grew bored with the princes away. Idalia was the only Companion requested as King Zenas had no use for the others with his sons absent. They filled their days as best they could, but there were only so many lessons they could have, songs they could sing, and books they could read. And read again. The evenings were long and silent.
‘Why is the king receiving no guests?’ asked Violeta, one evening. She snapped her book shut and stood up. ‘I feel as if we are in mourning.’
Rhea was always happy to spend an evening reading. ‘You do remember that Leksi is with the princes? What other guests could you possibly hope to receive?’ She did not even bother to look up from her book as she spoke.
Violeta glared at her. ‘Anyone at this point. I may as well remain in my nightgown all day if the only faces I see are yours.’
‘Leksi always returns with a fresh appetite for Syrasan women. A longer journey can only work in your favour,’ said Panthea. She had long ago given up on her book and was watching the flames of the fire.
The sound of Astra’s book slamming shut made them all jump. ‘Listen to yourselves. If Pandarus could hear this conversation, you would all be sold off to the first household to make an offer.’
‘Pandarus stopped listening to me the moment you arrived,’ Rhea said, without looking at her. ‘We do not remain here for him.’
Astra stood to leave. ‘Be grateful you remain at all. I need to get out of here. Your brooding is draining me of my youth.’
Aldara avoided the women when they were bored and self-destructive. She could not sit around and watch the kingdom’s most gifted women claw at the walls confining them. She read in the dressing room, seated on the floor with her back against the wall. When the books became too familiar, she volunteered for more chores. She even learned to sew. The alternative was unbearable. She did not share Hali’s indulgent love of leisure time. Hali could spend an entire afternoon soaking in a tub or trying on dresses.
Fedora reminded the women that the time was an opportunity for self-improvement. ‘This is your chance to recapture the interest of princes. Offer up something new upon their return and they will not look elsewhere for it.’
Astra laughed. ‘Prince Pandarus is always looking elsewhere. We will never be enough.’
Fedora folded her arms in front of her. ‘Or perhaps he will find love and sell you all off. You are possessions that need to remain useful. Need I remind you what happens when you are no longer of use?’
Nobody responded. Astra did not laugh again. If the aim of the speech was to motivate the women, then it served its purpose. With books, instruments, and ink in hand, there was newfound focus for the r
est of the afternoon.
Two more weeks passed, and the princes did not return. There was talk among the servants of them being in Corneo for negotiations. Some said they had likely been imprisoned. Aldara tried not to listen to the talk. She had seen him ride out with a handful of men and told herself if the threat had been dire he would have left with an army.
One month later, clouds settled in the sky. They did not lift, and they did not move. The air was sharp and clawed at Aldara’s throat whenever she went outside. The maids stopped hanging laundry outdoors as nothing dried in the damp air. Servants dedicated entire days to chopping wood. Aldara watched the pile grow as the smell of imminent snow closed in on them.
Still there were no princes.
The rain fell first. Lots of it. It pooled in the castle grounds, drowning the grassed lawns and turning the paths to mud. In the mornings, a layer of frost would cover every surface, a warning of what was to come. There was no longer any sunshine through the windows. Whenever Aldara looked out of them, she saw only grey. And empty roads.
King Zenas held a small feast for the sole purpose of distracting Queen Eldoris and Stamitos. All the Companions were requested to socialise with the guests who were invited to simply fill the room. Even with the large crowd, the mood was strained. Eldoris attended only for a short while, and her smile did not reach her eyes. When Idalia performed, Eldoris excused herself and did not return. Princess Cora sat alone and drank more wine than most of the men. She was unimpressed by the guest list since most of the guests were acquaintances of her father—much older, married, and of no interest to her. Aldara held dull conversations with awkward guests. She danced when she was invited to and laughed when she was expected to. She thought the other Companions appeared more relaxed with Pandarus absent. Hali spent the entire evening seated with Lord Yuri, whom she described as the politest man she had ever encountered. His gentle nature and light sense of humour put all who spoke with him at complete ease.
‘Why have we not had the pleasure of seeing you perform this evening?’ he asked Hali.