Trouble

by R. J. Price

  “Perhaps you would be better paired with Lady Mar,” Aren said desperately.

  Av would be willing to court a commoner—something few with rank would admit publicly.

  “My niece?” Lord Av asked with a chuckle. “No, you keep getting in my way, and I must say I find your temper a fresh breath after listening to all the others blather.”

  Aren's leg trembled from holding her weight. This was the end, it was going to be too much. Lord Av knew, she decided. He knew and he was delaying her in order to drive her out.

  Clasping her hands before her, Aren took the final step between herself and Lord Av, looking up into those big, grey eyes. “I am not a fool to be played however, and whenever, you wish. You would do well to remember that.” For a moment she relaxed her control, saw the confusion in his face as he tried to align the feeling with the woman standing before him. “Excuse me, I need to be up early to place the breads in the ovens so that you might eat heartily in the morning.”

  Aren left, walking across the dance floor, head and eyes downcast as she walked past the steward and out of the ball. She had not been in attendance long, though it was long enough for everyone to see her, if only they looked up from their own lives.

  Perhaps if any of them could look beyond Lady Em's court, they would have seen Aren instead of simply believing the boundaries the queen had set up to contain them.

  “Lady Aren,” a young voice called from behind her.

  Aren stopped, gritting her teeth for a moment before she turned. A grey-eyed young woman looked back at her innocently. In a moment the innocence was gone, replaced by anger and something much deeper, much more dangerous than the shallow young lady Aren had mistaken the creature for.

  “My mother will need a new guardian for me. I want you to appeal to her, tell her that you want to take the position.”

  “Why?”

  “You want a little cottage on a lake somewhere with just enough land to work, but you don't want the court, or men, or even women. Just you and that land. Maybe a dog. The position pays well. Just get me to my eighteenth birthday so that she might sell me off.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Same way I know a minor lord named Worl has been banding about that he's selling a cottage for three thousand coins, on a lake, gorgeous view, but I can't see the house itself.” Lady Mar reached up and ran her fingers through her long black hair. “Take the position. Oh, and tomorrow morning when Lord Av comes for you, I strongly suggest you run. If you don't make it difficult for him, he might just drag you to the yard and do as he said he would.”

  “Strip a lady bare and beat her in front of the court?” Aren asked.

  “Don't be haughty.”

  “It's part of what I am,” Aren said.

  “I know, but you and I could help each other,” Mar responded. “We both have a common enemy; my mother.”

  “Not much to start a friendship on,” Aren said.

  “Yet the foundation would be firm,” Mar said with a smile. “Tomorrow morning. Run. They won't stop to ask questions unless they have enough time to think, and they won't have time to think if they catch you red handed.”

  Chapter Eight

  Av checked with the healer in the morning, who could only shrug in response to his questions. No one had come for stitching. After being told that, Av went looking for answers to a simple question. Yet when he enquired as to Aren's friends, he was informed that she had not been seen speaking to anyone.

  At training Av asked the ladies who worked with Aren every day as to her habits, her friends, and was told Aren had no one. More disturbing was watching the ladies hem and haw over whom Av was talking about. Some of them wondered if it was Lady Earlen whom Av was speaking about. Lady Earlen, who was present during the discussion, had run off sobbing.

  Av had grabbed the first lord he found who wasn't hung over and commanded the man to find Lady Earlen and show her a good, sociable time.

  Aren hadn't shown up for training, forcing Av to check her rooms and the kitchen. Neither place did he find Aren, being informed in the kitchen that the lady's shift did not start for quite some time. When not on shift, Aren could be anywhere on palace grounds, including the kitchen, where she would arrive early to work on more difficult days.

  Giving up finally, Av went looking for Jer and found him in the library, head in his hands. Finding his brother was as simple as following the same patterns Jer always followed.

  “What's gone on now?” Av asked him.

  “The guardian...” Jer sighed, smacking his head back, against the wall he was sitting against, “was found dead this morning with my blade buried in her chest. Blood everywhere. Mar blames me, won't even see me, spoke with Em for a few minutes and thinks I did it. I tried explaining to Em, that's not my way of things, but she won't take my answer.”

  “You cut throats, not stab,” Av said. “In the end, a man only has the understanding that he did no wrong.”

  “I know. What's gone on with you?” Jer asked wearily. “That woman has you running around like I've never seen you run before. Circles—you've been doing circles. Reminds me of a younger me.”

  “Says the younger brother to the older,” Av muttered, crouching down beside Jer. “There's something off about the lady and I've decided to get to the bottom of it. Last night she was lecturing me as Mar's temper filled the ball. It was just that perfect timing, but I have to wonder if the two haven't bonded.”

  “I don't believe they've been introduced,” Jer said.

  “That's what I thought, but there was no mistaking the ranked anger, which was not Em getting uppity. And Mar's not been hurt recently, correct?”

  “No, the guardian would take her straight to the healer, had she been hurt,” Jer said. “Why?”

  “The steward smelled blood and alerted me to it. He said Aren was hurt, but she appeared to be fine. The smell of blood was around her, however. I gave her fair warning to have the person report to the healer by this morning,” Av said, setting a hand on Jer's knee. “I know you've your own problems, brother, but I need you to go hunting with me.”

  “Oh,” Jer's eyes expanded. “That is just what I need, a distraction.”

  Av watched as Jer closed his eyes and relaxed the muscles in his body slowly. Breathing in through his mouth, Jer stilled. For a moment Av thought Jer may have fallen asleep, but the eyes drifted open again.

  “Oh, dear brother,” Jer chuckled. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

  “Jer,” Av said carefully, “all I want is a blood trail.”

  Jer's eyes flickered over the library. He stood, growling. Av took a step behind Jer, out of sight, as Jer's head turned this way and that. The head shook quickly.

  “What?” Av asked.

  Jer jabbed a finger at Telm, walking towards them, dragging a crying servant girl along. Av looked at Telm, questioning her actions and her temper, as she thrust the young woman to Jer's feet.

  “Go on, girl, tell them!”

  “I found bloody rags,” the girl sniffled.

  “Why would you not report this?” Av asked her, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “You know the laws.”

  “It—it was Lady Aren's rooms.” The girl sobbed into the floor.

  Av and Jer both looked to Telm for an answer. The woman huffed out a breath. “It would seem the servants have taken to Lady Aren. She works hard and asks nothing of them. Takes her weight and that of others when she can. Imagine my surprise when I discovered my girls bickering over who would have the pleasure of cleaning Lady Aren's rooms, of how they watch the door and her habits to bring her clean water when she would need a wash, or more wood on those days when a woman might want a fire and a good book.”

  “Sometimes servants call to kind ladies,” Jer said defensively.

  “That they do, but normally my girls tell me about the lady in question,” Telm said. “Brag about it. They want to share with me, that I might extend what protection or help to the lady as I can. I wi
ll have control in my house.”

  Av raised his hands in surrender as Jer growled, ready to take Telm up on her challenge. “The house is yours, Lady Telm. Just tell us where to find Lady Aren and we'll pull her to hand.”

  “Nothing can pull that girl to hand,” Telm said. “Sometimes being near the throne makes ladies act differently. But go ahead and try. She's in the kitchen.”

  Jer led the way, Av right behind him as the two made their way through the palace. Those who were going about their business parted for the brothers. Jer was still in a hunting mood, the look on his face would have been enough to part the commoners.

  In the hallway that led to the kitchen, they heard a male voice shouting and a sudden thump. A woman in the kitchens began screaming. Av broke into a run. Skidding into the kitchen as he tried to stop, he had just enough time to see a startled Aren with blood on her hands before he stumbled into a servant and was distracted trying to right himself. Jer was in the kitchens right behind him and around the work desks, lunging for Aren as Av got his feet back under him.

  Moving around the cook, who tried shouting at him, Av went straight for Aren as she rushed for the door. Aren was faster than she looked. She was out of the kitchen before Av or Jer could catch her. Out the door so fast that it swung back in and caught Jer square in the nose, sending him stumbling back and over Av's foot. Av hopped over Jer and smacked the door back open, running through the side gardens, the herb and vegetable gardens for the palace. Servants shrieked, clamouring to get out of his way.

  Focused on catching Aren, Av was aware of trampling the garden beds, of the servants shouting at him and shaking their fists, telling him to stop. Av was set on his prize, however, and he continued on, around the corner and into the training yard. He rounded on Aren only to have her stop suddenly, turn, and slam the palm of her hand into his stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs.

  With a whoosh Av went down.

  Irritated and yet elated that at least one woman had listened to his lectures on how to take down a male assailant, he struggled to his feet. The palace guard were aware of what was happening and were asking one another whether they should join in the chase, or stay back and allow Av to do what came naturally.

  Jer, hopping around Av and giving him a smack to the shoulder for falling behind, caused the palace guard to drop their weapons and head for Aren. They knew, at the sight of Jer, this was not a game. Aren was a wanted woman, and they would do everything in their power to stop her before she reached the gate house. Av strode forward as Aren was met by a wall of guards. He watched her desperately turn away from them and head towards Av's home only to find herself confronted by the ladies who had been training in the yard, still armed with sticks. Aren turned towards Jer, for some reason that was beyond Av, deciding he was the weaker opponent.

  She set her weight and raised her hands as Jer laughed at her.

  Aren caught Jer by the shoulder and yanked him close, then thrust him away with a strength she had not shown during training. Jer was caught completely unprepared, toppling to the ground as Aren's focus turned from Jer to Av and she tried to bolt again. Av caught Aren by the shoulder, similar to how Aren had handled Jer, and slammed her into the ground, holding her there as she struggled with a body that should have been tired. Should have been battered.

  The scent of blood flooded Av's nose. He looked down, watched the blood seep through the leg of her trousers. She was bleeding and hurt yet she still managed to run.

  Why were they chasing Aren instead of simply questioning her? Av thought back, to the scene in the kitchen, before he recalled. The blood on her hands, the man under her, the cook shouting something about the kitchen master.

  “What have you done, Aren?” Av asked, dragging her to her feet.

  “He attacked a half-wit,” Aren shouted, battering at Av's hands weakly.

  Her body finally catching up to her, Aren was weakening quickly. Av spun her, thrusting her towards the palace.

  “I meant your leg. Walk.”

  “But I—”

  “Walk, Lady Aren, unless you'd rather have this conversation in front of half the ladies of the court and the palace guard,” Av snarled loudly, raising his voice when he heard Jer growl from behind him.

  With his hand gripping her shoulder, propelling her forward, Aren walked towards the palace. He didn't doubt the lady was pouting. He knew he would hear about it from Em later on, for man-handling a ward. The queen wouldn't care that she couldn't put a face to the name, only that her ladies told her about the master chasing, and embarrassing, a young woman on palace grounds.

  Into the healer hall, Av gave Aren an extra shove before he approached the healer behind the desk. “You're new.”

  “I have the same capabilities, just less training,” came the annoyed response of someone who had been questioned too many times on the first day of work. Av could tell she had years of experience as a healer and was not to be taken for a fool. “The steward insists that there be three or four healers to cover the palace during each shift, not just one. That way if one of us takes ill, or finds herself in a predicament, the others can pick up the extra work. Just as Lady Em has ladies to do the same.”

  “Lady Em does not, but I see the steward's view, and I agree with it,” Av responded. “He is a clever man.”

  The healer watched Av, looking absolutely annoyed as he tried to smile at her.

  “What are you here for?” the healer asked with all the irritability of a woman who knew when a man was trying to play her. “State the reason why you need a healer.”

  “Lady Aren was injured,” Av said. “Her leg is bleeding and has been, at least, since yesterday.”

  An eyebrow arched, the healer stood, scraping her chair across the stone floor as she did. “You must be the master. I will see to her, but you need to wait here.”

  Av nodded and watched the healer walk around the desk, to Aren. The two women moved to one of the private rooms, closing the door firmly behind them.

  “That's trouble if ever I saw some,” Jer said, stepping up beside Av. “That healer's got more of a bite to her than the others. First time Em stubs a toe, the whole palace will be in an uproar. Should I warn her?”

  “Healers are notoriously stubborn, lippy, and willing, not to mention able, to pick a fight with everyone from queens to commoners,” Av said. “I'm sure she can hold her own against Em.”

  “I meant Em—should I warn Em?”

  The brothers looked at each other, considering carefully before Av shook his head. “Nah, that would take the entertainment out of watching a queen be pulled through the palace by the ear.”

  “What do you want done with Lady Aren?” Jer asked. “I'd like to be aware of it now, rather than find out later.”

  “What's to be aware of?” Av asked.

  “She attacked the kitchen master. Em's not all too attached to her step-brother, but that won't stop the lords and ladies from gossiping.”

  “If he attacked a half-wit, as Aren said he did, in my mind, things are settled already,” Av said.

  “Some discipline must be—”

  “The matter is settled, Jer. I am not going to punish Lady Aren for doing what was right. She protected an innocent. The only punishment would be for refusing to seek a healer. Why would she do that when I told her what would happen if she didn't?” Av frowned.

  “Aren is a very private woman,” Jer said.

  “I should have simply lifted her skirts. Something's off with her. She's hiding something,” Av said, trying to piece things together.

  “Maybe she did it to herself,” Jer countered. “That would be good reason to hide an injury.”

  The healer came out of the room, closing the door behind her with an audible thump. Marching up to the brothers, she crossed her arms and set her weight on one leg as she glowered at them.

  “Mild infection has started, there's little I can do besides wait for her body to do as a body does with infection,” she said to them. “Someo
ne stabbed her in the leg, and she won't tell me who. You,”—she jabbed a finger at Av, making him feel like a child caught stealing sweets—“you are the master of the palace and yet you allowed this to happen. And you,”—she jabbed a finger at Jer as he tried to chuckle at Av being told off—“are mate to the throne, and yet you allow the kitchen master to beat half-wits? Doesn't take long to link the two and figure out who hurt her.”

  “Why wouldn't she come see you about it?” Av asked.

  “Same reason women don't come see the healer when a man attacks them?” the healer said with a shrug. “A majority of us might be women as well, but sometimes you simply cannot trust the ladies under the employ of the one who hurt you.”

  “Speaking from experience?” Av asked.

  “This is not about me.”

  Jer and Av glanced at one another and then back to the healer. That kind of information should have been shared with them by the steward, had he known. A woman who had been hurt by a man was more likely to draw blood if hurt a second time, especially given Av's insistence that everyone be trained.

  “How is Lady Aren?” Jer asked, changing the topic.

  “Fine,” the healer said too quickly. “At least as well as can be expected from someone who was stabbed. If the infection does not worsen she should be up and walking in a few days. I wouldn't suggest she return to the kitchen, though.”

  “We'll find her a place,” Av said.

  This drew a glare from the healer, causing Jer to say quickly, “I'm sure I can find somewhere for her to work that keeps her far from the kitchens and still where we can keep an eye on her. The kitchen master should be seen to.”

  “He can see to himself,” the healer muttered, walking to the desk. “I am not going to help someone who received a wound through their own stupidity or through their actions as a giant pile of shit.”

  “He's the kitchen master.”

  “I wouldn't care if he were the master,” the healer snarled, stopped and looked to Av. “If you're the master, and he's the kitchen master, does he report to you?”