The Lady's Choice

by Bernadette Rowley

  Ramón tried to converse with the lieutenant who rode beside him. ‘Formosa . . . I have a second cousin with that last name.’ The man looked only a little older than he. ‘What name do you go by?’

  ‘Josef,’ he snapped, his bearing stiff and his eyes kept straight ahead.

  ‘It is you,’ Ramón said. He could see the slight resemblance to his family although Josef’s hair was a dark honey blond and his eyes were grey rather blue. He supposed many would consider Josef handsome, and his uniform would certainly have the ladies’ heads turning. A pity he seemed such a pompous ass.

  Josef flicked a glance Ramón’s way and his eyes narrowed. ‘So! Little Ramón returns to Wildecoast. It’s no wonder I didn’t recognise you. The last time we met, your face was covered in pimples and you were so thin one would think you were perpetually starving.’

  ‘That was ten years ago, cousin. We have both changed much. If I remember, you joined the king’s army soon after.’

  ‘I did, while you chose the life of a servant, albeit to the nobility. I heard about your appointment to the prince. You’ve been gone less than four months. Has the king’s brother found you wanting?’

  Ramón smoothed the frown from his brow with difficulty. Now he remembered: Josef had always been abrasive. But Ramón would not rise to the bait by defending himself. ‘I have been charged with the task of escorting the prince’s betrothed, Lady Branasar, to be fitted for her wedding gown.’

  Josef turned to Benae, who rode behind to his right and inclined his head. ‘I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Branasar.’ His eyes ran over Benae’s dusty raiment; he frowned and turned to speak to Ramón. ‘Is it true that you were beset by dark elves?’

  ‘The night before last. We barely escaped with our lives. We are all that is left of our party. You must dispatch men immediately to retrieve the bodies of our soldiers and servants and the carriage with the lady’s belongings.’

  Josef raised one eyebrow at Ramón and then pulled his horse from the procession, signalling for the man beside Benae to do likewise. As the rest of the party continued, the lieutenant and his man had a brief discussion and the soldier raced ahead while Josef re-joined the escort. ‘Pick up the pace,’ he said and urged his horse into a trot.

  By the time Benae reached the inner keep and castle, a detail of mounted soldiers fifty men strong had amassed in the marshalling area. They all wore the red uniform of the kingdom, except for one man who wore grey. This man met them on horseback as they drew to a halt inside the keep wall.

  ‘Lieutenant Formosa,’ the man in the grey uniform greeted Josef. ‘What’s this I hear of an ambush to the west?’

  ‘Captain Jazara.’ Josef saluted stiffly, a scowl on his face. ‘This is my cousin Ramón Zorba, squire of Brightcastle, and his companion is Lady Branasar. Their party was attacked by the elves less than two days ride, west of here. All were killed except the squire and the lady. A squad will be needed to retrieve the bodies and the carriage.’

  The captain raised one eyebrow. ‘We will find the site of the ambush and draw our own conclusions as to the identity of the attackers. The victims will be buried where they died. A priest will accompany us. How large is the carriage?’

  ‘There were four carriage horses,’ Ramón said.

  The captain stared at Ramón’s horse as though trying to decide if he rode one of the carriage horses or if the squire just lacked discretion when it came to horseflesh. At least Flaire was above reproach. The stallion snorted as though daring the captain to find fault with him. The captain ignored Benae and Flaire completely.

  Benae grabbed Ramón’s sleeve. ‘I cannot allow Merel’s body to be dumped in a mass grave,’ she hissed. ‘You must make them bring her here so that she can have a proper burial.’

  Ramón cleared his throat. ‘There is one body that must be retrieved, captain. The lady’s maid was killed defending her mistress. Her body must be recovered so that she can have a fitting burial.’

  ‘That is why I will take a priest, squire. Surely you can have no problems with that?’

  ‘On the contrary, captain,’ Ramón insisted.

  Benae bit her tongue to stop herself from interfering. This man obviously set no store by a woman’s word. He had refused to even acknowledge her. Flaire fidgeted as Benae’s hands shook on the reins. In the end, she just could not remain quiet. ‘I insist you bring the maid’s body to Wildecoast for burial,’ Benae said. ‘Prince Zialni would expect the servant of his future wife to be buried with full kingdom honours.’

  Ah! Now the haughty captain noticed her! His eyes flickered over Benae and Flaire but his face remained impassive. She did not like him one bit. To think that she must rely on this man to retrieve Merel’s body and the carriage stirred the last shred of fire remaining in her after the cold trip east. Benae lifted her head and stared down her nose at the military leader and he smirked at her. Smirked!

  ‘Very well, squire,’ Captain Jazara said. He swung his coal-black stallion around and shouted at his men. ‘Fetch a priest. Hitch the supply wagon. We leave within the half hour.’ Without a backward look, Jazara trotted away, his broad shoulders radiating command.

  Ramón’s eyes met hers. ‘I think that man must be related to Vard Anton,’ he said, bitterly.

  Benae smiled. ‘If he does what he has said he will, I do not care how he behaves.’ But the arrogance of the captain had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  ‘Come along,’ Josef said. ‘I will find the steward and he will see that you are presented to His Majesty.’

  Benae eased back into the steaming bath, flinching as the water made contact with her various abrasions. The maid who had been assigned to her, a woman called Joletta, set about washing Benae’s hair. The firm fingers massaging her scalp felt glorious and her shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. The woman might be quiet but she certainly could work magic with her hands.

  ‘You won’t mind accompanying me back to Brightcastle, Joletta?’ Benae asked.

  ‘No, lady.’

  Benae frowned at the maid’s words. There was simply no way to ascertain whether Joletta was indeed happy to take the position as Benae’s maid, even if it was only temporary. Which it would be. She would not put up with the mousey woman, no matter how skilled her fingers were . . . and they were expert. She allowed herself to drift away, remembering happier times when those she had loved had still been with her, including Merel. A tear escaped her closed eye.

  ‘What is amiss, lady?’

  ‘Nothing to trouble yourself with, Joletta.’ Benae felt suddenly cold. She had loved Merel like a sister but had never fully appreciated the fact. How stupid of her not to see what was right beneath her nose. And now she was gone. If Merel’s actions weren’t those of a sister then . . . The pain in her chest grew until Benae couldn’t suppress the sob that rose; she couldn’t hold back the torrent of grief that swept over her. Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks and all Benae could do was cover her face with her hands.

  ‘Lady?’ Joletta sounded distressed but Benae had no thought for her.

  ‘Out! Leave me alone!’

  ‘But, my lady—’

  ‘I said leave. Now!’ She heard the quiet bump as the chamber door was pulled closed.

  Benae rested her face on the edge of the bath and sobbed until the water in which she sat was cold. Slowly the tears subsided and Benae stood and rinsed her hair free of soap. The water she rinsed with was icier than the bath water, leaving her chilled. So much for a lovely, warm bath. She wrapped herself in a linen towel and curled another around her head, slowly drying her long, thick hair. There was no one left. Ramón was delusional to think that they could be friends. Jiseve would not allow Ramón close enough for any meaningful friendship. She might as well get used to her new situation right now.

  Benae called Joletta in and the maid helped Benae to dress in a beautiful gown that had once belonged to the queen. The fabric was embossed with gold and hugged her curves as though it had
been made for her. It was a little long but Benae would just be sure to lift it above her slippers when she walked. As Benae sat before the roaring fire, Joletta brushed her hair, allowing the draught from the fire to chase the remaining moisture from the luxuriant waves. The maid left Benae’s hair to hang down her back, restraining it only with the golden tiara that had also been supplied by the queen. Last, Joletta made up Benae’s face with the powders and kohl liner she had brought from the carriage, adding a touch of strawberry colour to her lips.

  All would be well. From this disaster she would rise, like a sword forged in heat and fire, and she would be tougher than before. She had to survive. There was no other option.

  Benae thanked Joletta, squared her shoulders and stepped from her chambers.

  Ramón knew where Benae had been housed but he awaited her in the antechamber of the king’s audience hall. It would not do to appear overly familiar with Benae. He must be aloof, formal, detached – even though he longed to comfort her. She had looked lost as she was led away to her chambers and she hadn’t asked about Flaire’s lodging. That was not like her at all.

  The familiar palace sounds soothed the turmoil within him. It was good to be back inside the castle where he had trained. Nothing much ever changed around the old place. Many of the retainers were well into their forties and fifties, and training men and women of his age to take their places. There was a stability here that was missing from Brightcastle, a constancy that settled him. A sudden autumn storm rattled the windows and Ramón smiled. He even loved the weather here. The waves would be crashing on the nearby beach, hurling themselves against the cliff the castle was built on.

  Benae approached him accompanied by the steward and he stood. She was exquisite in her borrowed dress and tiara. No one would ever guess that it was not her gown. Benae smiled at him but it didn’t reach her eyes. She had a haunted look about her as though she had been crying.

  He bowed and reached for her hand before placing it upon his arm. Her fingers tightened and then quickly released and she sighed.

  ‘What is wrong?’ he asked.

  She shook her head as if not trusting her voice but he had seen the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  ‘I have seen that Flaire is taken care of by the head groom,’ he said. ‘He looks content.’

  Benae smiled and Ramón was gladdened to have provided a distraction.

  ‘Thank you, Ramón,’ she said. ‘I am not myself this evening.’

  ‘Small wonder after what you have been through.’

  Sadness cloaked her gaze once again.

  ‘Let us greet His Majesty,’ Ramón said, stepping forward.

  The steward threw open the doors to the hall and announced them. Fires burned at either end of the large hall and several lords and ladies stood along the walls, chatting. They all turned to stare when Ramón and Benae were announced. He escorted Benae right to the foot of the dais where King Beniel and Queen Adriana sat.

  Ramón bowed low while Benae curtseyed.

  ‘Welcome back to our court, Squire Ramón. I well remember your courtesy when we visited our brother at Brightcastle.’ King Beniel turned to Benae. ‘Lady Branasar, soon to be Princess Benae, welcome to the family. My brother sent pigeons to inform me of your advent but his missives did not do you justice. He has indeed found a beauty to share his life with.’

  Benae bowed her head while Ramón suddenly found he did not want to think of Benae’s life with the prince.

  ‘I am delighted to meet my future brother-in-law, King Beniel,’ Benae said, ‘and his queen.’ She dropped a deep curtsey for Adriana.

  Ramón thought the queen had never looked lovelier, her dark hair swept up in an intricate knot and restrained by a silver circlet. Adriana wore an emerald gown that exactly matched her eyes. She could have been Benae’s older sister, so much did she resemble the lady, except that Benae was even more beautiful.

  ‘Lady Benae, welcome,’ said Adriana. ‘I hope that we shall be friends as well as sisters.’ The queen stood and came down the stairs to embrace her sister-in-law. A buzz swept through the assembled audience. Ramón supposed it was a ringing endorsement for Benae. Adriana turned to Ramón.

  ‘Squire, welcome. You have our thanks for bringing our sister-in-law to us in safety.’

  Ramón bowed over her gloved hand and kissed her fingers. ‘I have merely done my duty, Your Majesty.’

  Adriana’s eyes speared Ramón where he stood. ‘It could never be said that life was dull in Brightcastle and now it seems you bring trouble with you. I am disturbed that dark elves should range so close to Wildecoast. I had believed that blight confined to the north.’

  Ramón thought back through the events of the past months. First, unrest in the principality of Brightcastle as Jiseve Zialni made his rule felt, then the murder of the previous squire, Jorge. Then the assassin in the garden at the ball where Vard Anton was wounded. Ramón shied away from examining that event too closely, especially regarding how the assassin had come to be in the garden. Alecia’s vendetta to kill the mercenaries responsible for the death of Squire Jorge had resulted in her near-death at the hands of one of the mercenaries. When the prince had found out about Alecia’s involvement he had her imprisoned to await the day of her betrothal rather than reveal to the populace his daughter’s outrageous activities. And all through these dramas, Vard Anton had been Alecia’s protector. Huh! Some protector he proved to be! Just being around the man had given Ramón an itch he could not scratch. If only that assassin’s aim had been true, the blight of Vard Anton would be just a memory. Instead, he had brought the kingdom to its knees.

  Ramón came out of his reverie to find the king and queen staring at him, frowns on their faces. ‘I confess I thought the elves were a northern phenomenon as well, Your Majesties. Prince Zialni is at this moment travelling north and west to assess the seriousness of the incursions. It seems, from our experience, that they have penetrated further than first thought.’

  ‘That is an understatement!’ King Beniel said. ‘We cannot have the cursed elves on our lands less than two days ride from our home. We must send soldiers to sweep the vermin from our kingdom.’

  ‘Some mobilisation of forces seems appropriate, Your Majesty.’ Ramón hoped the audience would come to an end soon, before it turned to the topic of Benae’s unescorted journey.

  ‘Perhaps you can be of some assistance when it comes to deploying our forces, squire,’ King Beniel said, ‘but for now there is another matter I must address.’ He leaned towards Ramón and Benae. ‘The lady here has been unescorted in the presence of a man not her betrothed for more than a day. There will be gossip that my brother will not appreciate. How do you propose to stop the wagging tongues?’

  Ramón frowned at him. ‘I do not see how we can stop that, Your Majesty, but I wish to assure you that our conduct was of the highest standard at all times.’ He felt the heat rise up his neck until he could swear a light blush covered his face. Dead giveaway, even if the monarchs assumed it meant that Ramón had thoughts that he shouldn’t. Oh, he had been tempted all right, but now he and Benae could move on, as friends.

  ‘You are sure there is naught I should report to the prince?’ Beniel said, his sharp gaze spearing them both.

  ‘We were fighting for survival at first, Your Majesty,’ Benae said, ‘and then running for our lives, not ever sure we would reach Wildecoast. Those are not ideal circumstances to conduct a romance, even should I have wished. I find Jiseve is enough for me to contemplate.’

  Oh bravo, Benae, Ramón thought. She was indeed good and would make a fine wife for the prince. She would hold her own at court, and with ambassadors and their wives, no matter how sharp their intelligence. And she had not lied.

  ‘Indeed, Lady Benae,’ the queen said. ‘We must discuss the matter at length when we have more privacy.’

  The king cleared his throat. ‘I will leave such matters to you, my dear. In the meantime, let us adjourn to the dining hall for our repast.’


  Chapter 11

  The dinner went long into the night, with fifteen courses served, including Benae’s favourite, pheasant. But despite the fine food, she cursed the need for the display of welcome. All she wished was to curl up on her ridiculously thick mattress and go to sleep. For a lifetime. Long enough to awake and find that this life was all an absurd dream.

  The woman to her left was talking. She had a face longer than Flaire’s and unfortunate piggy eyes that no amount of paint could improve. Benae supposed her golden hair was pretty enough. Oh, Goddess, that wasn’t very charitable. It had been a long few days. She returned her attention to the blonde woman. Her name was Lady Feolinde or some such. Benae was not in the mood for remembering names; besides, she had always found it easier to recall men’s names than women’s.

  ‘Do you not worry about the court gossip, Lady Benae?’ Feolinde said. ‘The squire is a handsome man and to be alone in his company for more than a day . . .’ She fanned herself with her napkin and nudged Benae’s elbow. ‘I would not let such an opportunity pass.’

  ‘Perhaps you forget I am betrothed, Feolinde?’

  ‘Ah, yes, and that is another interesting topic. The court here was all abuzz when it heard of the contest. How many of you were there competing for his hand?’

  Benae suppressed an angry retort. ‘That does not matter. I was successful and now I cannot wait to become his wife. He is a most loving and considerate man, the prince.’

  ‘Not what I heard, Lady Benae,’ Feolinde said, bumping her elbow again.

  Really! That woman had better stop her elbowing or she would soon find a fork through her hand. Benae smiled sweetly. ‘Oh, I cannot fault his manners. He has been the perfect fiancé since our betrothal.’

  The man on Benae’s other side, Lord Korert, snorted. She turned to him, thankful for the interruption.