by Jocelyn Fox
“The manner of what, the Queen ordering Finnead not to see the nymph anymore?”
“I’d thought you had learned to be discreet as a squire,” said Rye in quiet reprimand as one of the other ladies glanced at Ramel quizzically. They followed the train of courtiers toward the gardens, Finnead and Andraste still within their line of sight.
“Apparently, the Queen feels no need to be discreet,” muttered Ramel, his cheeks heating at his own rebellious words.
“Because she is the Queen, and she places chains on whom she will,” replied Rye in a voice barely more than a whisper. She raised her voice to its normal volume. “But let us not speak of that any more. All we can do is see to our master and mistress, yes?”
“I’ll agree with you on that,” replied Ramel, “though I don’t see what your mistress has to be distressed about. She’s the one who stands to gain from Finnead’s loss.”
“Or she could lose him as well,” said Rye. “You know your master well enough to understand the truth of that.”
Ramel pressed his lips together and remained silent.
“It’s all well and good that you don’t want to speak ill of him,” Rye continued. “Perhaps try to think of it from her side as well. I am sure she did not ask her sister to make such a public statement.”
“Threat, more like,” muttered Ramel. Rye shrugged one shoulder in silent assent at his correction.
“It is not a comfortable situation for either of them, and I am sure there will be some sort of discussion about it before the night is out,” she said with a sigh.
“If only we were in the North, and the Princess could have just dragged a fresh-killed deer to Finnead’s door,” said Ramel with a grin.
Rye chuckled. “She is an uncommon talent with the bow.”
“She probably would have needed you to help her drag it all the way into Darkhill,” said Ramel contemplatively.
“I wouldn’t underestimate her strength,” said Rye with a smile. “That’s a common mistake, you know. There aren’t many female ulfdrengr, but those that there are…they can fight a man twice their size and sometimes they win simply because the man does not think to take them seriously.”
“I have a feeling that concept can be applied to much more than sparring,” said Ramel.
“You’ll learn soon enough,” said Rye with a grin. “For now, your oath shields you.”
“For now,” agreed Ramel with an answering grin. Rye held his gaze for a moment longer than was truly proper, and with a shiver he felt her trace the delicate skin on the inside of his arm with one finger. He vowed silently that he’d make it through the gauntlet solely to give Rye a passionate kiss afterward. Before his mind could explore that fantasy farther, they arrived at the garden and Rye thanked him politely for his company, giving him one last smile before vanishing down one of the dark paths of the garden. Ramel stared after her for a moment, then took a deep breath and set off to find Knight Finnead.
Chapter 22
“All I can offer is my sincere apology,” said Princess Andraste, her dark lashes stark against her pale face as she avoided meeting Finn’s gaze. They stood on a curve in the path through the gardens, roses nodding heavily from the bushes.
“I know it was not your intention for the Queen to issue such an ultimatum,” Finn said stiffly. He still struggled to understand the impetus behind the Queen’s threat; a part of him wondered if Andraste had indeed confided in her sister. His stomach turned at the heady, overpowering perfume of the roses surrounding them.
“But you believe that I spoke to her of it,” said Andraste quietly, clasping her hands together in front of her.
“It is not my place to know what passes between the Princess and the Queen,” he answered with unyielding courtesy.
“Will you stop being so polite and just talk to me?” Andraste asked, finally looking up at him. The glow of the taebramh lights made her eyes seem huge and dark with emotion. Even through his anger, he felt a tug in his chest. She spread her hands in supplication. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t know that was what she was going to do. And no, I didn’t speak to her about the nymph.”
“The Knights and Guards are her eyes and ears in the Court,” said Finn a bit wearily. With his anger draining away, he just felt tired. “It would have been simple enough to keep track of my comings and goings, if she wished.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I would have answered honestly, if she had asked.”
“But you would not answer me,” said Andraste quietly.
“If you wish to dredge up our earlier conversation, we can, but it doesn’t matter now,” replied Finn. “I have been given my orders and I will abide by them.”
“They weren’t orders.”
“Of course they were,” he snapped. Andraste took a step back at the sudden vehemence in his voice. “Do you truly think I’d endanger a true friend by selfishly bringing down the Queen’s wrath on her? She is innocent of any wrongdoing, and I only regret that I cannot explain to her my sudden disappearance.” He looked into the darkness, struggling to regain control of his emotions.
“I am sure your squire would be able to carry a message,” Andraste said.
“Unless even that would risk retribution.” Finn took a deep breath and gathered all his anger into a small space in the back of his chest. He felt it burn like a live ember, but it allowed him to smooth his face into a calm mask of courtesy once again. “I suggest we attempt to enjoy the rest of the evening, my lady.”
Andraste looked at him miserably. “I never wanted it to be this way, Finnead. I am truly sorry that your closeness to me has caused you pain.” She glanced away, swallowed and then raised her face again. “Does this mean you no longer wish to be my personal guard?”
“I will do my duty, my lady,” he replied politely.
Her next words were so soft that he barely heard them. “And our lessons?”
“If you bid me to continue, I shall,” he said, even though a part of him wanted nothing more than to distance himself from her. And yet there was another part of him, a treacherous part that dared to draw meaning from her earlier words and the Queen’s warning. Perhaps the Princess truly did care for him. He pushed that small, insidious voice away and told himself to simply perform his duties as a Knight.
“Very well,” she said softly, and with that she turned and began to walk down one of the illuminated paths of the garden.
The rest of the evening passed in polite, meaningless conversation. Finnead couldn’t deny the feeling of relief when he bowed to Andraste and bid her a good night, even as he noticed the resigned unhappiness written across her face.
“Sir,” said Ramel as he carefully hung Finn’s new clothes in the wardrobe, “if there is anything you wish to talk about…”
“You heard it as plainly as anyone else at the table,” Finn responded tiredly. “I was given an ultimatum by the Queen. It might as well have been a direct order not to see Shaleh anymore.” He ran one hand through his hair and sat down at his desk with a sigh, glancing at his quill and ink.
“If I may, sir, a written message may not be ideal,” said his squire.
Finn nodded. “And it is too late for me to order you out into the forest.”
“On the contrary, sir, it would be exciting,” replied Ramel with an impish gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps I’d encounter one of the beasts that the patrols have seen.”
“That is exactly why I don’t want you venturing into the forest alone,” said Finn. “And I’m being quite serious about that, so don’t take that as an order given with a sly wink.”
“Understood.” Ramel closed his wardrobe and stepped forward to retrieve Finn’s boots. “I’ll have these back to you by the noon meal tomorrow, sir.”
“Take your time with them,” said Finn, leaning back in his chair.
Ramel cleared his throat. “I’ll just bank the fire and then leave you to your thoughts.”
“A hazardous proposal,” said Finn with a self-deprecating grin.
Finn chuckled. It felt good to laugh a bit after the tension of the night. Ramel skillfully banked the embers of the fire and looked to Finn for any last-minute instructions. Finn smiled and shook his head.
“Have a good night, sir,” Ramel said earnestly, the new black boots held carefully in his hands as he left the room.
“And you as well, Ramel,” replied Finn. He sighed as the door shut. Just a few hours earlier he’d been lounging with Shaleh in the roots of her tree. He wondered darkly if some spy had followed him or whether Mab had tracked him by using one of her looking-glass spells. The Queen had ways of watching the members of her Court that were far less savory than relying on her Knights and Guards to tell her of events beyond her sight.
As he pushed the thoughts of spies and spells away, he felt a keen sense of loss. If he’d known that it was the last time he would ever see Shaleh, perhaps he would have told her how much her friendship had meant to him. Perhaps he would have treasured the sight of the sunlight gleaming on her dark skin or the way her leaf-green eyes sparkled when she spoke of the beauty of the forest. Perhaps he would have asked her more about Kieran, though she had told him as much as she remembered already; perhaps he would have kissed her deeply one last time, tasting the foreignness of her on his tongue, the wildness and strange spice of her magic mingling with the scent of bark and leaves, the essence of growing green things.
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair again, scrubbing one hand over his face. There was no use in driving himself to distraction over what he had and hadn’t done during his last bit of time with Shaleh, because there was no question in his mind that he’d do whatever it took to protect her from the Queen’s fury. As much as he railed against the injustice of it, he refused to place her in danger because of his stubbornness.
And what if the Queen wishes you to truly court the Princess, hmm? What then? said the voice in the corner of his mind that still sounded so much like Kieran.
“I will take it one day at a time,” Finn said aloud.
Perhaps you would be more willing to court her than you admit, said Kieran with that little inflection of puckish humor. She’s one of the most beautiful maidens at Court, Finn, and you can’t deny that!
“I don’t deny it,” he said with a little groan. “That’s part of the problem, that and the fact that she’s the Princess. Courting her means risking the displeasure of the Queen. I don’t like the idea of losing my sword or my head.”
You seem to think the Queen much harsher than you ever expressed in our conversations, commented Kieran. Finn could imagine his friend tilting his head to one side thoughtfully.
“These years seem to have wrought a change in our Queen,” he murmured. “But I still believe she is a just ruler.”
Threatening to burn down a nymph’s tree doesn’t sound like a just ruler. Though it does sound like a protective older sister, admitted Kieran.
“Enough,” Finn said. “My head hurts already from thinking too much about this.”
Kieran didn’t reply, and Finn wearily blew out the candle and fairly fell into his bed, grateful for the oblivion of sleep.
The weeks after the Queen’s declaration that he could no longer visit Shaleh were difficult, though each day was less arduous than the last. Finn still felt a keen sense of loss and grieved over his inability to explain the circumstances to Shaleh. He didn’t give his squire any instructions regarding a message to the nymph, and he wasn’t certain that Ramel even knew the location of Shaleh’s tree. But one night almost a month later, Ramel set Finn’s polished armor on the table and said quietly, “She doesn’t blame you.”
Finn looked at his squire sharply. He didn’t even want to mention Shaleh’s name. Somehow, he thought that the Queen might be listening.
Ramel continued. “She understands, and she said to tell you that you must take the happiness of her friendship and carry it forward with you. Just as Kieran would have wanted you to be the best Knight, she wants you to be the best lover to whomever it is that you choose.” Red-faced, the squire added, “That’s what she told me to say, sir.”
Finn smiled. The tightness in his chest eased at the knowledge that Shaleh didn’t harbor any ill will toward him for abandoning her so abruptly. “Thank you, Ramel.”
“And sir?”
“Go on.” Finn nodded at his squire, who took a deep breath and raised his chin.
“Sir, I can guess that sometimes you think you mustn’t share any of your true thoughts with those around you,” Ramel said. “But I will just say that while you are my Knight and master, I will listen to anything you say without judgment and never speak of it to another living soul.”
His squire’s loyalty warmed his heart even as the remembered loss of Shaleh stung it. “Thank you, Ramel. I’ll endeavor to remember that in the future.”
Ramel nodded. “Anything you ask of me, sir.”
Finn smiled. “What if it involves bringing my regrets to Princess Andraste?”
The squire paled but then rallied. “No task is too perilous, sir, for your intrepid squire.”
“Lucky for you that I’m a merciful master,” Finn replied with a chuckle.
Ramel grinned. “Lucky for me, sir,” he agreed. “Speaking of Princess Andraste, Lady Rye asked if we would be available for a long ride tomorrow afternoon.”
“If the Princess wishes to go for a ride tomorrow afternoon, then we must do our duty and escort her,” replied Finn.
Ramel bowed and walked to the door of his chambers. “A merciful and dutiful master. A squire could not ask for more.”
“Take you and your cheek away to your afternoon lessons,” said Finn with a smile, shaking his head at the incorrigible young squire.
The next afternoon, Finn met Princess Andraste and Lady Rye on the hill outside the western gate, as they had requested. Princess Andraste rode her favorite faehal, a spirited little roan with markings of blue on its fetlocks and forehead. The roan whinnied in welcome to Finn’s black charger. Ramel cursed under his breath as his mare cavorted forward to greet Rye’s mount.
“I was thinking we could go down along the river today,” said the Princess as she turned her faehal’s head.
“As you wish,” replied Finn neutrally. He thought he saw the Princess frown, but he couldn’t be sure as she wheeled her mount and set her heels to its sides, urging it into a canter. As Rye followed, he noted the bows strapped to her saddle, unstrung and wrapped to look like walking staffs or perhaps an easel to hold a sketchbook. So, the Princess did not merely want to go on a long ride; she wanted a lesson. If he was honest with himself, Finn hadn’t had the heart to teach the Princess these past weeks, and she didn’t ask. Their rides were truly just long rides, with Andraste lost in quiet discussion with Rye or the other of her ladies that enjoyed riding. They hadn’t had any of their secret sessions since the disastrous night that the Seelie delegation visited.
In addition to the friction between himself and the Princess, Finn had heard that the Queen had not been pleased with the subject of conversation in the gardens after the meal. Knight Niall had broached a topic much too akin to the speech of the Northerners those years ago: a warning of dark forces beginning to gather, and even whispers of an attack on the White City. The Queen had scoffed at even the suggestion of any dark force bold enough to orchestrate an organized attack on any Sidhe stronghold. Her patrols hunted trolls in the northernmost reaches of her lands, and they’d even had to hunt a dragon a century past when Ralclyf the Red had awoken from his slumber in the Edhyre Mountains. But these threats were fractured and singular. Speaking of an evil force that would unify trolls with dragons and other creatures of ill intent was nonsense, she’d told the Seelie Vaelanseld. He’d bowed graciously and let the subject drop, but Finn had heard in the Knight’s Hall that Niall had seemed unhappy with the Queen’s response. The Seelie delegation had only stayed one more day after that
, a visit so short that it bordered on insult, but no brazen words had been openly exchanged.
The bright summer sunlight streaming around them rendered the colors of the afternoon jewel-like, emerald-green grass parting before their fleet mounts and a sapphire-blue sky arching over them. Finn couldn’t help but notice the rich darkness of the Princess’s hair as it escaped its pins and spilled unbound down her back. Lady Rye laughed and challenged his squire to a race. They urged their mounts into a gallop. Finn watched them ride ahead with a critical eye and thought that Ramel had much improved from his beginning days as a squire, but it was attention to the smallest of details that built true skill. And the smallest of details could be the difference between life and death someday when Ramel also wore the sword of a Knight. Finn had no intention of leaving his squire unprepared.
After almost an hour’s ride, they reached one of the small rivers that ran along the border of the forest. Most of the rivers flowed into the mighty Darinwel at the border between the Seelie and Unseelie lands.
“It is such a pleasant day, perhaps I shall go for a swim,” commented Princess Andraste to Rye as she nimbly slipped down from her faehal. Finn didn’t miss the glance that Andraste slid in his direction. He kept his face carefully smooth of reaction as he gave his charger a pat on the neck and loosened the girth of the saddle a bit before letting the faehal wander off in search of clover.
“I’m not jumping in to save you when your limbs go numb,” announced Rye, grinning at the Princess’s shocked look. “Don’t let the warmth of the day fool you. That river’s freezing. It comes down from the Edhyres, and there’s ice and snow up at the highest peaks all year round.”
“I’m sure it’s not as cold as all that,” said Andraste doubtfully. She pulled her trousers and shirt from her saddlebags, pursing her lips as she realized that there were no trees behind which she could hide to change her clothes. She decided that her faehal would serve, and Rye arched an eyebrow at Ramel as the squire unwittingly glanced in the direction of the Princess as she cursed and tried to pull on her trousers without yet taking off her gown. Ramel quickly turned away, scarlet-faced. Rye chuckled.