The Royal Companion

by Tanya Bird

  ‘They are definitely Zoelin,’ Leksi said. ‘There are four dead behind me.’

  ‘And seven dead in front of you,’ Tyron said.

  They lowered their swords but remained alert, continuing back down the road together, sleeves pressed over their mouths in an attempt to filter the smoke. Tyron spotted Otus, bewildered as people rushed past him with pales of water. His other men were already helping to extinguish and contain the flames. Some of the houses were beyond saving, and their occupants stood frozen in front of them, ash blowing about them as they watched. A young boy ran up to Tyron and offered to take Otus so they could join the effort.

  They worked tirelessly with every other able-bodied person until they had salvaged all that could be salvaged. When all the fires were extinguished, people collapsed with exhaustion onto the blackened earth and sobbed into their hands. Some went and sat by the dead. Children wrapped in blankets were asleep on the ground or in someone’s arms. Away from the smoke and the grief, Tyron and Leksi stood with their hands on their knees, coughing up black phlegm. The same boy who had taken Tyron’s horse brought them water in a filthy cup. They drank it greedily, ignoring the pieces of ash floating in it. Tyron thanked the boy and asked him to fetch water for the horses.

  ‘We should pay our respects to the dead and their families,’ Leksi said, his voice hoarse.

  Tyron nodded.

  They wandered along the road in the hazy light of morning until they stood before the dead. Eleven Zoelin men. Four Liralds. One of them a four-year-old boy who had gotten swept up in the flames. Tyron felt his stomach heave as he looked at the small, chubby hand poking out from beneath a horse blanket. The boy’s mother was kneeling next to the body, silent and unblinking. Tyron could not even manage one word to her, and he doubted she would have heard him anyway. He turned around and walked up the small hill, away from the blood soaked and burned. When he reached the top of the hill, he leant on his knees, expecting to be sick. When nothing came, he stood upright and looked at Leksi, who had followed him.

  ‘Zoelins,’ said Leksi.

  ‘Zoelins,’ Tyron echoed, wiping the sweat from his face. ‘So much for allies.’

  The horses of their enemy had been collected and were being tethered nearby. Leksi pointed to the shoulder of one of them. ‘The horses are branded Syrasan. Bred by us, trained by us, and then used against us.’

  Tyron’s mind was still clouded from the smoke. ‘We need to send word immediately to the king.’ He linked his hands behind his head. ‘At least now we understand the war we are fighting. You are the only one I trust to have this conversation on my behalf. I need you to find out what Pandarus knows. We will need men placed along the Lotheng River. Pull them from the Corneo border if necessary. And no Zoelins are to enter Syrasan.’

  ‘That will be difficult to enforce.’

  ‘I agree. If they want to get across, they’ll find a way, but let’s not make it easy for them.’

  Leksi nodded and placed a blackened hand on Tyron’s shoulder. ‘I will leave as soon as I have cleaned up a little. Any other messages?’ he asked. ‘I will assure your mother you are eating. That’s always her first question.’

  Tyron could not smile. ‘Thank you.’

  Leksi removed the hand and waited. ‘Anyone else?’ he asked pointedly. ‘Anyone else at Archdale I should send word to?’

  Tyron swallowed, and it was painful. His swollen eyes blinked. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Tell her I am alive. As per the plan.’

  Leksi waited for more, but nothing came. ‘Oh. Well, don’t bore her with detail.’

  ‘I don’t want her to know the details.’

  Leksi began to cough and bent over to spit out his efforts. ‘I hope I don’t give anything away,’ he said, returning upright. He gave a small bow before turning to leave.

  ‘Leksi,’ Tyron called after him. He stopped and turned around. ‘Tell her Otus misses her. Every day.’

  Leksi nodded.

  Chapter 27

  Aldara’s heart quickened as she took in the sight of Leksi. There were traces of soot on his hands and face. The stench of smoke clung to his clothes. They stood in front of a large stained-glass window in the corridor just outside the Companions’ quarters. The window depicted three women praying, a subtle reminder to ask God for forgiveness for their daily sins. Leksi was not interested in the images. He was watching the young maids hang laundry through the clear panel of the window.

  ‘I could put in a good word for you if you like,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood and encourage the conversation.

  He turned to her and smiled, taking in her simple cotton dress and messy braid.

  ‘You joke, but I will keep that in mind for my return. The women that do my laundry at the manor look quite different. I am afraid I do not have a lot of time. I return North this afternoon. Quick trip to update the king.’

  ‘I understand,’ she said, glancing down at the blood on his sleeves. ‘Is Prince Tyron keeping well, my lord?’

  He followed her eyes down to his sleeve. ‘I apologise for my appearance. Not much time to clean up. This is actually an improvement on earlier.’

  Aldara looked up. ‘You don’t need to apologise to me. I’m grateful for all you are doing. I cannot imagine what you are enduring in order to keep those people safe.’

  He put his hands behind his back. ‘He’s alive. As per your plan, apparently.’

  She swallowed hard, and her eyes did not leave him. ‘We tried to keep the plan simple.’

  He laughed, but he could hear the relief in her voice.

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  He was tempted to add some colour to the message but decided to keep it honest. ‘He said to tell you Otus misses you. Otus is the horse,’ he added.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, eyes shining. ‘I have heard the stables are not the same without him.’ She blinked, and a small tear escaped. ‘Thank you for keeping them both safe.’

  He smiled and gave a small bow. ‘I should be going. I have lots to do before leaving here.’

  ‘I hope those things include a bath.’ She wanted him to stay longer. She wanted him to talk about Tyron. She wanted to ask questions and hear his name spoken out loud. She curtsied instead. ‘Thank you for taking the time to find me.’

  ‘Thank you for not making me go all the way down to the butts. Good day, Aldara,’ he said, turning to leave.

  ‘My lord,’ she called. He turned back to her. ‘Tell him I pray for him every day, just in case there is a God, and on the small chance he is listening to me,’ she added.

  He nodded. ‘Otus will be pleased to hear it.’

  She smiled and watched him leave. When he was out of sight, the vision of Tyron in blood-soaked clothing, skin blackened by fire, remained with her.

  That evening she lay in bed with Hali. Pandarus had once again left for Zoelin, so the women were mentally preparing themselves for another spell of boredom.

  ‘It makes no difference whether he is here or not nowadays,’ Hali complained. ‘He didn’t request my company during his last visit.’

  ‘To be fair, he was only here two days. And let’s not forget about the war going on.’

  ‘Why are you defending him? You hate him.’

  Aldara was not defending him, she was trying to make Hali feel a little less frightened by her situation. Not only had Pandarus stopped requesting her company, but he had also stopped greeting her at social gatherings.

  ‘I am just as bored with him as he is of me,’ she said. ‘But of course I don’t get to show it like he does. I have to smile when he speaks, laugh at his terrible jokes, and cry out in his bed even when he is so drunk I can barely stand to touch him.’ She went silent for a moment. ‘I wish I had the luxury of choosing my own Companion.’

  Aldara smiled. ‘And who would you choose?’

  ‘You know who I would choose—Lord Yuri. That man pours my wine and watches me eat. I have never met anyone who matches my love of food. But there is no acc
eptable reason for him to make an offer for me if I am sold. His children are grown. If I were to reside there, I would bring him only disgrace.’

  Lord Yuri had given Hali a ruby pin during their last encounter, and Aldara noticed she had worn it every day since. ‘Perhaps you are worth the disgrace.’

  They were lying with their shoulders pressed together, looking up into the darkness.

  ‘He will come back you know,’ Hali said, taking Aldara’s hand under the blanket.

  Aldara knew who she was referring to. ‘I know. But we will be like strangers again.’

  Hali squeezed her hand. ‘Then you will have the thrill of falling in love twice.’

  She felt cold suddenly. ‘There is no love between a prince and his Companion.’

  ‘Yes, only Companionship,’ Hali said, letting go of her hand and rolling onto her side. Her eyes closed. ‘You sound like Fedora. Don’t preach her rules to me. You have done nothing but break them since you arrived here.’

  Aldara’s eyes were getting heavy also. ‘That particular rule protects us.’

  Hali gave a soft, sleepy laugh. ‘You risk everything for your horse, but not for your prince.’

  They fell asleep, and when Aldara woke the next morning, on her eighteenth birthday, the bed was cold beside her.

  Chapter 28

  Tyron welcomed the snow. The Zoelins could not burn down houses in the constant damp of the cold season. If they wanted to take women, they would have to do so without the distraction of fire.

  It had been six weeks since he had seen Pandarus over the border. His stern-faced brother had arrived with Leksi at their camp in Nuwien, vague with details and covering his embarrassment at the state of things with a vile tone and short fuse. Managing relations with neighbouring kingdoms was Pandarus’s sole responsibility. It was not only that he had failed in that role, but that he refused to communicate on the matter. Tyron had tried to push him for details, determined to find out why the events were happening.

  ‘Just give me two weeks to sort out the mess, and I will tell you everything.’

  He had at least called it a mess, which was a start. Tyron had stared at his royal tunic, pressed trousers, and decorative sword that never left its sheath. ‘Just tell me this, did you know they were Zoelin? When we were placing more of our men at the Corneo border, did you know?’

  Pandarus had seemed angry. At whom, Tyron had no idea.

  ‘I knew nothing for certain until your message yesterday.’

  Tyron had hated him in that moment. ‘But you suspected. This is your fourth visit to Zoelin since this fight began. Something made you return again and again. It looks suspiciously like a negotiation from where I’m standing.’

  ‘Just give me two weeks,’ Pandarus had repeated.

  Tyron’s eyes flicked to Leksi, who had a knack for appearing neutral. ‘What do I do if you are not back in two weeks?’

  Pandarus had shaken his head. ‘The same thing our father and brother did when we did not return from Corneo within the estimated time frame. Wait longer.’

  After Pandarus crossed the Lotheng River and slipped into the Zoelin woods, Tyron took his men to its icy banks and set up camp under the cover of tall pines. He ordered eighty men off the Corneo border and dispatched them along the river. But the river was long, and a week later two girls were snatched from the side of a road just outside of Soarid. They were just thirteen and fourteen years of age. There were no deaths this time, but there were also no witnesses. When Tyron heard the news, he gathered fifteen men and fifteen iron hammers and travelled along the river knocking down every adjoining bridge they came across, one stone at a time, until they collapsed into the icy water. The destruction of crossing points was not his most effective strategy, but he liked the idea of their enemy submerged in freezing water, fighting a strong current. He worked tirelessly alongside his men, channelling his anger into each blow of the hammer. He rested only when Leksi insisted on it, often having tools physically removed from his blistered hands. He left only one bridge standing, the bridge Pandarus had crossed a few weeks earlier. It was the bridge that Pandarus would return to, and it was also the entry point Tyron planned to use if the fight moved over the river and into Zoelin. Every day Pandarus did not return, he readied himself more and more for that fight.

  When there were no more bridges to knock down, Tyron and his men rode through light snowfall to the only standing bridge and set up camp at its entrance. Tyron sent a messenger to King Zenas, updating him on their progress and location. A messenger returned with a letter telling him Stamitos had returned to Archdale and asking for news on Pandarus, but there was no news. No one crossed the lone bridge.

  ‘In hindsight, perhaps it would have been easier to build a large wall,’ Leksi said.

  They were sitting on small stools in Tyron’s tent, boots off, feet drying next to the fire.

  ‘We would probably be trapping the enemy in,’ Tyron said, fanning his toes closer to the flames.

  Leksi stared at him. ‘That is the problem you have with the idea?’

  Subtle humour was wasted on Tyron those days.

  ‘That and the lack of materials,’ he said, after a long pause. He was about to add something further when one of his men peered through the gap in the tent.

  ‘It is Prince Pandarus, my lord. He is coming across the bridge with two men.’

  Tyron and Leksi glanced at each other.

  ‘Zoelin men or Syrasan men?’ Leksi said, grabbing his boots and throwing Tyron’s at him.

  ‘I believe them to be Syrasan, my lord.’

  Tyron shoved his feet into his damp boots. ‘Have every man armed and watching the other side of the river. No one else comes across that bridge,’ he said to Leksi.

  Leksi nodded and slipped through the flap of the tent. Tyron was about to follow after him when Pandarus stepped inside. They stood studying one another for a moment.

  ‘You don’t seem very pleased to see me,’ Pandarus said. He turned, watching Leksi shout orders at the men. ‘Where is Leksi fleeing to?’

  Tyron’s eyes moved over him, checking for injury, weight loss, anything that suggested it had been a difficult six weeks for him. Dark circles did not seem sufficient. ‘He is securing the bridge. Now is not the time for complacency.’

  Pandarus nodded. He walked past Tyron and fell onto one of the stools, feigning exhaustion. ‘Do you have anything to drink?’ he asked, removing his boots.

  Tyron bent over and picked up his flask sitting by the entrance and handed it to Pandarus. He stood over him, waiting.

  ‘You have nothing else?’ Pandarus said, peering into it. ‘Has this even been boiled? The last thing I need is to arrive at Archdale ill and have everyone suspecting some form of Zoelin plague.’

  Tyron had to walk away from him. ‘We have waited for you, just as you asked us to. Now, what news do you have for me?’

  Pandarus placed the flask at his feet and looked at him. Tyron could see him considering his words, which made him uneasy.

  ‘I bring confirmation the men responsible for the attacks were Zoelin.’

  Tyron waited for something else. Something new. But nothing more was offered. ‘Actually, I brought you that confirmation almost two months ago, when we killed seven Zoelin men in Lirald who were responsible for the death of four locals during an attempted abduction, including a young boy who died in the fires they started.’

  Pandarus appeared untouched by the story, maintaining his neutral expression. ‘As you are aware, we recently entered into an alliance with Zoelin, so we needed to ensure we had all the facts before laying accusations.’

  Tyron could hardly believe what he was hearing. ‘All right, we will have this conversation your way. What else do you have for me?’

  Pandarus crossed his arms in front of him. ‘Time for you to return to Archdale, brother. You are becoming cynical.’

  Tyron stared at him. ‘I would have preferred not to be fighting this blind war, but there would be n
o one left alive in the North if I had trusted your judgement.’ He took a breath before continuing. ‘So your friend, King Jayr, will he be returning the Syrasan women and children he has taken?’

  Pandarus laughed. ‘It’s a little more complicated than that.’

  ‘I’m certain I can keep up if you would just share the story with me.’

  Pandarus nodded. ‘All right. What would you like to know?’

  ‘Start with why you were able to just trot off over the bridge and be welcomed at Drake Castle while I remained here killing their men? We both know you are not one for putting yourself in danger. You knew something I did not from the beginning of all this.’

  ‘I have a good relationship with King Jayr. I did not believe he was behind these acts. We suspected our enemy to be Nydoen rebels.’

  Tyron could not take in the insanity quickly enough. ‘Zoelin mountain rebels? You honestly thought a handful of mountain rebels were responsible for these planned attacks? What on earth would they want with women and children?’

  ‘They are lawless men…’

  ‘But not moral-less. They reject their new king’s politics and choose to live as their ancestors have done for centuries. That does not make them criminals.’

  Pandarus leant forward and signalled for his brother to come closer. ‘If you keep your voice down, I will explain.’ He waited for Tyron to step closer before speaking. ‘King Jayr’s advisor proposed a trade during his last visit. I thought the decision was straightforward, sensible, and profitable for Syrasan. An agreement was written up and signed by both parties.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘After the men departed from Archdale, our king and father decided not to honour the agreement.’

  That did not make sense to Tyron. His father never went back on his word once it was given. He shook his head as he tried to process it. ‘There must have been a good reason for him to break such an agreement. What was the trade? Surely not weapons…’