by Tanya Bird
Pandarus shifted in his seat. ‘Women.’
Tyron shook his head, confused. ‘Women?’
‘Yes. You remember those, don’t you?’
Tyron paced, the pieces falling into place. ‘What were the women for?’ he asked, already knowing the answer.
‘What do you think?’
‘Companions. But Companions for whom? King Jayr?’
Pandarus rested his elbows on the tops of his knees. ‘Maybe a handful, yes, but Syrasan women are considered exotic and beautiful in the far North. The novelty of their fair complexion I suppose. It was a well-researched and sensible trade decision.’
Tyron’s mind raced. ‘Asigow? King Jayr is selling women and children to savages in Asigow?’
‘Savages? Honestly, brother, it’s a good thing I am in charge of relations.’
‘Asigow babies born with minor defects are drowned by their fathers at birth.’
Pandarus was silent.
‘What was your plan?’ Tyron continued. ‘Travel through the kingdom, throwing a few coins at the poor in return for their daughters?’
‘That is precisely what we do now!’ Pandarus shouted. ‘Your Companion cost less than my boots. The poor need ways to survive.’
The mention of her jolted him. He had to mentally block her before he was able to continue. ‘The difference is our poor sell to their king, a king whom they trust and respect. They hand over their loved ones knowing they will have a better life in which they will never be hungry. We cannot take children from their parents without any regard as to where they will end up.’
‘You can save the speech. I already had it from our father.’
‘And rightfully so. You should never have signed such an agreement.’
Pandarus waved him off. ‘They will not be sold off as street prostitutes! They will receive the same opportunities as our own Companions—expensive dresses, food, education. They will live among the elite and rich and possibly share a bed with the Asigow king himself.’
Tyron was still shaking his head. ‘This advisor from Zoelin, was this the man you handed her over to?’ He could not say her name aloud.
Pandarus said nothing.
‘No wonder our father dishonoured the agreement. He saw first-hand how they treat Companions. Imagine handing young Syrasan women over to rapists. Thank God he saw sense when you could not.’
Pandarus stood, fed up with the conversation. ‘I believe the current situation alters our moral compass a little, don’t you?’
‘No, I don’t. King Jayr’s men have stolen and murdered our people. We cannot reward their crimes by negotiating with them.’
Pandarus raised a finger to him. ‘They have already proven they can take what they want.’ He put his hand down in an attempt to calm himself. ‘We cannot afford to have them as enemies. They are strong and unpredictable. As allies they will fight alongside us when the need arises. Corneo could not win against such an army, which means they may not attempt such fights in the future. You must trust that I know what I am doing.’ When Tyron said nothing he added, ‘We cannot fight everybody.’
Tyron stared at the ground in front of him. ‘You never suspected Nydoen rebels. And you never suspected Corneo. You have known King Jayr was behind these attacks the whole time. He was simply upholding the agreement that you signed.’
Pandarus opened his hands. ‘When I went to him after the first attack, he admitted to nothing. He simply asked if we were prepared to honour the trade agreement. I told him the decision was not mine to make. He said he wished there was more he could do to help.’ He shook his head, almost pleading. ‘Every time it was the same. He just kept asking about the agreement.’
Tyron looked at him. ‘You knew. And father knew. Neither of you told me anything. Instead, you sent me off blind and wasted our men at the Corneon border.’
‘How would it have appeared if we had sent men to the Zoelin border?’
‘Like a fair war!’ Tyron shouted.
Pandarus blinked and turned away. ‘All we knew for certain was that we needed King Jayr as an ally. We could not have predicted the extent of his actions. He was having a tantrum, and we were waiting for it to pass.’
Tyron shook his head again. ‘I could have predicted his actions had I been informed.’
‘You were already angry. We needed rational minds to make rational decisions.’
He could not argue that point. ‘If you honour the agreement, you will be endangering our people. Their respect will leave with the women you sell.’
Pandarus sat back down, picked up the flask, and drank it without further complaint. When he had emptied it, he threw it at the wall of the tent. Both men watched it roll along the ground before coming to a stop between them.
‘So what now?’ Tyron asked.
Pandarus watched the fire. ‘We will honour the trade agreement, and the attacks will stop.’
‘And what of the women and children they have already taken?’
Pandarus looked up, and Tyron glimpsed something that resembled shame in his expression. ‘They will be returned. And we will credit King Jayr for it.’
Tyron nodded, already understanding. ‘You will lay blame on the Nydoen rebels, and our people will sing King Jayr’s praises. Clever. Though I am surprised he was willing to cooperate.’
‘He wanted something in exchange of course.’
‘Of course. What does he want?’
Pandarus had difficulty meeting Tyron’s eyes. ‘A mentor. A mentor to prepare the women for their roles. We have one housed outside of Veanor, ready for transport.’
Tyron shook his head, confused. ‘What mentor?’
‘Hali,’ Pandarus said, trying to sound businesslike. ‘She was sent to Veanor weeks ago in preparation. She departs for Onuric tomorrow.’
‘Hali,’ Tyron repeated.
‘Yes, Hali.’
Tyron had made a point of not contacting Aldara. Not one letter had been exchanged between them. He had wanted to keep her out of the war, but in trying to protect her, he had in many ways abandoned her.
A gust of cold air pushed through the flap of the tent. It whispered along the ground to him. And the girl he had locked from his mind suddenly poured in like sunshine.
Chapter 29
Fedora wished she had never been told the plan. Previously when Companions had been sold, she would gently wake them during the night and hand them over to the guard waiting outside of their quarters. She was never told the details, though she had never pushed the matter either. This time, however, when Pandarus had told her Hali would be leaving, temporarily housed at a manor outside of Veanor, she had found herself asking why the housing was temporary. Much to her surprise, and later distress, Pandarus had told her his entire strategy, speaking as though he were in a confessional. Hali would be sent to Onuric Castle in the East of Zoelin to mentor the Syrasan women who were sold into the trade. Why? Why had she asked?
The following morning, after she had pulled Hali from Aldara’s bed, where they had slept like sisters, she had been forced to look at Aldara and pretend she did not have answers. But she did have them, and Aldara knew it. Not much escaped that girl. She had intuition well beyond her years. The only way to maintain the dwindling trust between them was to tell her enough. Aldara had stood in front of her, eyes pleading, unable to fathom Prince Pandarus’s plan. And then she had done as she always did, let her feelings get in the way of her good sense.
Later that morning Fedora had been called to the stables where Aldara had screamed at a groom who refused to let her saddle her horse. The incident saw her confined to the Companion’s quarters for two days, where she remained in bed, thinking and not eating. When she was eventually permitted to leave their quarters, Fedora was called to the main gate where Aldara was being held by the guards after a physical fight to pass them. Her conduct saw her placed in the tower for the night.
When Fedora went to collect her the following morning, she went prepared for a stern talk. She l
ooked at Aldara through the heavy, iron door, seated on the floor with her back against the icy wall, despite a perfectly good chair having been placed in her cell. Then she looked at the untouched food on the tray next to her, which was the same food she would have received in the comfort of their quarters. Fedora had just been trying to make a point, not a prisoner.
‘You are a smart girl, Aldara. But you are not being very smart about this situation.’
Aldara was staring at the wall opposite her. She rolled her head back to look at Fedora. ‘And where has smart gotten me?’
‘You are still here at Archdale. You made it work.’
Aldara pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. ‘Well, I cannot make it work anymore.’
Fedora exhaled. ‘Do not play defeatist. It does not suit you.’
‘I’m not playing anything anymore. That’s what I’m telling you. I’m tired of the upstream swim.’
She tried a different approach. ‘You have two options. You can stay here, or you can return with me. If you return with me, you will behave as you have been taught to behave. No more juvenile attempts to leave. We are all sad Hali is no longer here, but that is the life of a Companion. Taking your skill set to a new audience should not be viewed as a death sentence, but rather an opportunity.’
Aldara raised her head and fixed her burning gaze on her.
Aldara stared up at her mentor, head shaking. Hali was gone, taken from her while she slept. ‘Can you hear yourself? Skill set. Audience.’ She stood up and ran at the iron door so fast Fedora took a step back from it. ‘Hali is not a set of accomplishments. She’s warm and kind, attributes that were nurtured by the large family she was taken from. She’s good-humoured, loves food, and hates rodents. She likes to please people, even you. That is how she made it work, despite belonging to a man who exploited and abused her—’
‘Enough!’ Fedora said, stepping forward again. She glanced over at the guard who stood at the entrance of the stairs and then looked back at Aldara. ‘Enough,’ she said again, quieter this time.
Aldara stepped back, panting. Her hands went over her face as she realised her grief was making her reckless.
‘Let me give you two new choices,’ Fedora said. ‘You can leave with me now, calmly, and return to our quarters, or I can send a messenger to the border to inform his lordship, Prince Tyron, that you have been imprisoned for an attempted escape.’ She paused. ‘What do you think Prince Tyron will do when he gets that message?’
Aldara’s hands dropped to her side. She knew Tyron would return, immediately. He would ride overnight to get there as quickly as possible.
‘Neither of those options brings Hali back,’ Fedora continued. ‘One of them disrupts a very complicated war and leaves our borders without its strongest defence.’
Aldara knew she could not do that to him. She nodded, resigning to her decision. Her body went limp as the fight left her. ‘Don’t send the messenger.’
‘I am tempted to send one anyway, as I have no idea if I can trust a word you say.’
Aldara pressed her lips together. ‘Please, you have my word. I will not attempt to leave again.’
Fedora kept her face stern and eyes on Aldara. ‘Guard,’ she said, stepping back from the door.
As the women followed the guard down the cold stone steps of the tower, Aldara felt as though her submission was a betrayal to Hali. Fedora, as if reading her mind, said, ‘Hali would expect you to miss her, not throw your life away on her behalf. Give yourself time to adjust to life here without her. It might not be such a terrible life.’
The stairs seemed to go on and on. For a moment Aldara wondered if they were perhaps descending into hell. Then suddenly, a door swung open in front of them and a blast of snow hit her face. She paused, took a lungful of the sharp air, and then stepped out into it.
Chapter 30
Aldara sat with a book on her lap, watching the flames of the fire. Fedora was not around, so her legs were tucked up next to her. That was the extent of her rebellion those days. One of the maids, Edelpha, was changing the bed linen in the next room. Aldara could hear the effort in her breath. She stood up and walked over to the doorway, peeking around the corner at the heavily pregnant maid, hunched over a bed, struggling to tuck the sheet under the heavy wool mattress.
‘I am sure someone else could take over this chore if you spoke up,’ Aldara said, walking over to help.
Edelpha shook her head. ‘The moment I admit I cannot do my job is the moment I have to step down. I need the wage for as long as possible.’
Aldara knew the story well and immediately thought of Tia, whose family had also needed the wage. She looked across the bed at the bulging stomach. ‘I would be very surprised if the seneschal has not figured out how far along you are already.’
Edelpha stood up and put her hands on her lower back as she stretched it. ‘He is a kind man. He chooses not to see.’
The beds were finished, but Aldara knew the maid would have more chores to go. ‘Well, what is next? I can help you for a few hours.’
‘Firewood,’ Eldelpha said, letting out an exhausted breath.
Aldara had been afraid of that. ‘Well, we better go before Fedora returns then.’
When they stepped outside, the wind howled about them, lifting the hood of their cloaks from their heads.
‘Perhaps you should wait inside,’ Aldara shouted over the wind.
‘I’ll be all right.’
Aldara nodded, and the two women trod carefully along the cleared path that led to the wood hut. Once inside and out of the wind, Edelpha watched as Aldara loaded herself up with large logs before handing one small piece of wood to her.
‘Take this,’ she said. ‘You need to appear useful.’
They went back out into the icy wind, trudging through the fresh snow that was already beginning to cover the path. Aldara wondered how on earth Edelpha had been managing alone. She was grateful for the low cloud cover that blocked any prying eyes above them. A few yards from the door, Edelpha’s foot slipped on a patch of ice, and Aldara immediately reached out to steady her. She thought she would lose the pile of wood that was balancing on one arm, but a pair of hands reached through the fog, one steadying the logs and the other grabbing hold of her. Her eyes flicked to the gloved hand wrapped around her arm. But it was not the glove she recognised, but rather the grip of the hand. She looked up and saw Tyron’s green eyes looking back at her. Her body was trembling from the cold, or perhaps not from the cold. She glanced at Eldelpha, whose face held an expression of horror as she looked at Tyron.
‘Are you all right?’ Aldara asked her.
The maid nodded, hugging her single log. Aldara found the strength to look back at him. He was thinner, his hair longer and damp from the snow. Signature dark circles enclosed his eyes. Her first impulse was to reach out and touch his tired face. Instead, she stood there, taking in the sight of him.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, taking the wood from her.
He took the small log from Edelpha also and gestured for them to walk ahead of him. He watched her walking in front of him, bent against the wind. Even from behind she was achingly beautiful. Her hair spilled out from the hood of her cloak, dusted with snowflakes. His memory had not done her justice. He was grateful to see her looking so well when the rest of the kingdom seemed to be wilting beneath the weather. He could see she was trembling, so he looked down at the path in front of him. It was too much for him to watch her shiver from the cold, and far too much for him to imagine other possibilities.
When they stepped inside, Aldara reached for the wood in his arms.
‘Stop,’ he said. ‘I have told you before you are not to carry firewood.’
It certainly was not what he had planned to say when he first saw her. She stepped back from him as he piled the wood inside the doorway. The three of them stood together in the servants’ entry. Edelpha was about to say something, but Aldara shook her head, and she excused herself, waddling off
through to the kitchen as fast as she could. They remained where they were, with all that distance between them. Their presence surprised and panicked the servants, who continued to pass them.
‘I will accompany you back to your quarters,’ he said.
But that was not what he wanted to do.
Aldara could not cope with the formalities, and she hated the distance between them, but she had also been warned by Fedora that he might require physical space when he returned, so she nodded and walked off towards the steps leading up the main corridor. When they surfaced, he reached out and helped her out of her wet cloak. She stood still, feeling every fingertip that brushed over her. After he had removed his own, they stood looking at one another.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this,’ Aldara said, tearing up.
Tyron shook his head. ‘What can’t you do?’
She inhaled sharply. ‘I cannot waste time on proper conduct and return to my quarters and wait, and hope, that you will send for me.’ Some tears fell then, and she brushed them aside. ‘I can’t wonder when you are leaving again and if I will even be told.’ Another sharp breath. ‘I am actually begging you to forget propriety and just let me be with you now. Please, just while you are here. Be here with me. If you can,’ she added, her voice growing quiet.
She looked down at his feet. Fedora would never forgive such a speech. His silence did nothing to ease the rising panic she felt. She was working up the courage to apologise for the outburst when he stepped forward, lifted her off the ground, and crushed her against the wall. His lips were on her. His hands went under her dress, clawing at her legs as they reached higher. Not an ounce of propriety in sight. She wrapped one leg around him and could barely suppress a moan when he pressed himself harder against her. At that moment a servant came walking along the corridor and froze when he saw them. Tyron gently lowered her back onto the ground and took a step back. The young boy rushed past them, taking the stairs next to them two at a time. Aldara wanted him to pick her up again.