by Tanya Bird
Chapter 28
The wagon swung gently as Petra stared out the open window at the families making their way to the tournament on foot. Mothers carried young babies strapped to them, and the fathers carried smaller children on their shoulders when their legs had finally given up. They stopped to bow or curtsy as they watched the wagon pass them.
Petra smiled weakly through the window. The families lining the road would have likely skipped their morning meal to keep what little food they had for the event, but at least they were together.
A hand moved on Petra’s thigh, and she glanced down at it, a cold sensation filling her. The king usually rode on horseback, but upon learning that his wife would not be attending due to yet another headache, Nilos had insisted they travel together. His hand had not left her all morning.
‘Have I told you how lovely you look?’ he said, watching her.
Every five minutes since beginning the journey. She turned to him, mustering a smile. ‘Yes, you have mentioned it once or twice.’
He squeezed her leg. ‘Can you feel it?’
His fat hand like an anchor on her leg? Yes, she could feel it. ‘Feel what?’
‘Hope,’ he said. ‘A chance at the future we imagined before.’
It was an incomplete sentence, missing the ‘before Xander was born’ part. She was certainly not going to bring the boy up. Any mention of him would jeopardise her plan. They had a deal. If he left Xander alone, let him stay with the guardian she had chosen, then she would be the Companion he so desperately wanted.
She hoped the lie would get easier.
‘Until death,’ she had promised.
He continued to watch her, and she continued to meet his gaze. That was how it would be from now on.
A woman approached the wagon, pulling Petra from her thoughts. She ran alongside the carriage, asking for food. Eyes bulged from the pinched face. It was easy to forget what the starving looked like when you lived in a castle.
‘Just close the curtain,’ the king said, looking out the other window.
Had there been any food to give, Petra would have handed it over.
‘Have you a coin to give instead?’ she asked, turning to him with a sweet smile.
He exhaled, as though the suggestion alone was hard work, then retrieved a coin pouch from inside his tunic. He handed her a small silver coin, enough to buy a few potatoes but not the meat she desperately needed. Petra leaned out the window and dropped it into her outstretched hand.
‘God bless you,’ the woman called as the wagon pulled away from her.
‘They are like rodents,’ Nilos said. ‘You watch, now they will all come running with their hands out.’ He knocked the wall of the wagon with one knuckle and the horses sped up.
Petra had not been to a flag tournament in years, and she was surprised at how much expense had been poured into the event when people were starving throughout the kingdom. The berfroises were dressed in lavish fabric, and tables were laden with food and wine. Of course, it was all for the noble guests. The common people arrived with a poor man’s version of a picnic, watching the untouched food from afar.
The wagon stopped directly in front of the berfrois. The princes had arrived ahead of them and were moving among the guests, wearing gold tunics and expensive swords. Their gazes flicked to the crowd, where fathers were already shamelessly parading their daughters in front of the berfroises.
Petra frowned when she spotted King Jayr. He was hard to miss, sitting a full head higher than the other guests, his inked skin a stark contrast to the noblemen of Corneo.
‘You did not mention King Jayr would be attending,’ she said, fitting her mask over her face.
Nilos leaned forwards. ‘Did I not? He is here with his wife.’
Petra searched for the queen among the guests. Despite her feathered mask, she was easily identifiable thanks to her crown and striking beauty. The men snuck glances while her husband kept a trained eye on her, clearly aware of the attention she drew.
Petra leaned back as the door opened, remembering what Hali had told her. She wondered if the queen had managed to let go of her feelings for Leksi. A man like King Jayr would not tolerate his wife’s attention wandering elsewhere.
It seemed she had a few things in common with the queen.
Petra stepped down from the wagon and waited to take the king’s arm. They made their way up the steps of the berfrois towards the fake smiles and forced conversation. Her red mask did not protect her from the judgemental glances of the noble women, but she tried to focus on whichever guest Nilos was flaunting her in front of, smiling warmly and saying all the right things.
Eventually they reached King Jayr. The men standing with him bowed and excused themselves.
‘Good day, Your Majesty,’ she said in Zoelin. She knew he was comfortable speaking in their language, but good etiquette was to begin the conversation in his language and then follow his lead. ‘How was your journey?’
‘Uneventful,’ he replied in Corneon.
Petra glanced at the queen, who was now making her way over to them. ‘I hear there are some excellent horses being displayed today.’
The king offered a hand to his wife as she stepped up next to him. She took it briefly before letting go.
‘Your Majesty,’ Petra said, curtsying before the queen.
Cora gave her a small nod before turning her attention to King Nilos. ‘I was very sorry to hear your wife is not feeling well. A shame she has to miss the fun.’
Nilos cleared his throat. ‘Unfortunately, she is prone to long spells in bed.’
‘How dreadful,’ Cora replied, almost sounding genuine.
‘Lucky for you, Corneo has no shortage of beautiful women to accessorise with,’ Jayr said.
Nilos gave a courteous laugh. ‘Quite true.’
Neither woman joined in the laughter.
‘I hear you have been visiting with your family in Syrasan,’ Nilos said to Cora.
The cuffs on her wrists shifted, making a chiming noise. ‘Yes, I had a rather extended stay at Archdale.’
Petra’s pulse quickened. She knew Leksi would have gone to the castle if he were well enough for the journey. Of course, she could not ask after him. Companions were not supposed to converse with female guests at all, and the question would only raise suspicions.
‘It seems she would rather be there than at Onuric with me,’ Jayr added.
‘I suppose you miss your family,’ Nilos said.
Cora smiled politely. ‘My mother has grown rather accustomed to having me around. The separation is hardest on her.’
‘My queen likes her freedom,’ Jayr commented, watching his wife.
‘I trust your family are in good health,’ Nilos said, feigning interest.
‘Quite,’ Cora replied. ‘The family continues to grow.’ She glanced at Petra. ‘There seems to be a new child every time I visit.’
The timing of the glance made Petra wonder if perhaps the last part had been added for her benefit, but she could not imagine the queen passing on any information. It was well-known that she despised Companions of all varieties.
‘And yet I hear Masville Castle is the place to be of late,’ Jayr said, a smirk on his face. ‘A dead Companion, a runaway mentor, and servants hanging from its walls.’
Nilos tried to laugh the comment off. ‘Do not believe everything you hear.’
Cora threaded her hand through her husband’s arm. ‘This is Masville’s mentor, is it not?’ she asked, nodding at Petra.
Nilos placed his free hand over Petra’s. ‘She is more like a queen.’
There was a brief silence before Cora said, ‘Lucky your wife is not around to hear you say such a thing.’
Petra fought the urge to pull herself free and step away from him. ‘I believe King Nilos meant it as a compliment.’
‘I think every king has entertained the idea of multiple queens,’ Jayr said.
‘My husband is joking, of course,’ Cora said, her expressi
on sweet. ‘He can barely handle the one he has.’
A horn sounded, signalling the start of the event and saving them all from the awkward conversation.
‘Come,’ Nilos said, gesturing to the adjoining berfrois. ‘I will show you to your seats.’
‘First, I shall need some wine,’ Cora told him, withdrawing her arm.
Jayr leaned close to her ear. ‘Just remember there is nowhere for you to sleep it off.’
The queen stiffened.
‘I can fetch you some refreshments, Your Majesty,’ Petra said. ‘If you take a seat, I will bring them to you.’
Cora waved her off. ‘I would prefer to pour my own wine.’ She glanced at her husband. ‘I will be right along.’
Jayr bowed to his wife before following after King Nilos. Cora and Petra stood staring at one another for a moment.
‘This way,’ Petra said, gesturing for her to go ahead.
Cora sauntered off in the direction of the table at the back of the berfrois. Most of the guests had already filled their cups and were either seated or standing to the side, ready for the first rider to enter the field.
The women stopped in front of the table, and Cora lifted each jar of wine, gently swirling and smelling them.
‘Your son was at Archdale,’ Cora said, her eyes on the table.
Petra stopped breathing. ‘Was?’ She barely got the word out.
‘There are Corneon soldiers preparing to cross the border, so they have taken him east.’
Petra’s mind raced. So many questions, and just a few seconds to ask them.
‘King Nilos called off the search yesterday.’
Cora poured red wine into a cup, filling it much higher than was polite for a lady of her standing. ‘Did he tell you that?’
‘Yes.’
The queen glanced at her before bringing the cup to her mouth and taking a long sip. ‘Does he seem like an honest man to you?’ She tutted. ‘It seems the most educated women in the kingdom still require educating.’
She would deal with King Nilos later. ‘Is he all right?’
Cora took another drink. ‘I assume so. I do not make a habit of liaising with the strays.’ She topped her cup up and turned to leave. ‘I think I can find my own way back.’
As she went to leave, Petra whispered, ‘I was enquiring after Sir Leksi.’
Cora stopped.
‘Did he…’ She struggled to get the words out. ‘Does he live?’
The queen took a long drink before replying. ‘It will take more than an arrow or sword to kill that man.’
Petra let out the breath she had been holding but could do nothing to stop the shaking in her hands as relief washed over her. ‘Thank God.’
Cora studied her for a moment. ‘Now you better return to your king and play queen.’
Petra drew a slow breath to gain control of herself. Then, looking at Cora, she raised her chin. ‘After you, Your Majesty.’
They walked to their seats, applause breaking out around them as the first rider finished. They stepped into the royal berfrois and Cora took the vacant seat beside her husband. Petra looked around for the king and, not finding him, turned to the adjacent berfrois.
‘He is speaking with the priest,’ King Jayr said, eyes on the field.
Petra’s eyes went to him. ‘Which priest?’
He turned his head to her, his expression suggesting he neither knew nor cared.
She smiled. ‘Thank you. I am sure he will be along shortly.’
She took a seat but could not shake the uneasy feeling rising inside her. She discreetly searched for him amid the spectators, finally spotting him with two guards near the stables. He was talking to someone, and her eyes widened when she recognised Father Gabot. The sight made her nervous, her concern validated when she noticed Nilos’s rigid posture.
She turned back, trying to watch the field. Her hands even came together in a clap when the next rider entered, but her eyes kept returning to the king, and that time, she found him looking back at her. She swallowed, struggling to read his face from that distance.
Nilos leaned towards the guard on his left, giving him instructions, and then the guards marched off in the direction of the berfrois. Her heart pounded a little harder in her chest, and her fingers gripped the arms of her chair. Closer they came, and she had the distinct feeling they were coming for her.
She faced the field, aware of the men crossing her vision and then climbing the steps. She blinked and turned her head to watch them approach. Their gazes were fixed on her, and she tried to imagine what on earth Father Gabot could have said that would make the king send guards to collect her rather than simply coming to her himself.
The men stopped next to her chair. ‘Come with us,’ the one closest instructed.
She did not move. ‘Come with you where?’ She was surprised by the calm in her voice given how she felt inside.
Without responding, one guard grabbed her arm, pulling her from the chair.
‘Take your hands off me,’ she said, trying to yank free.
‘The king has ordered you back to Masville,’ said the man. ‘Under guard.’
She turned, searching for the king in the spot she had found him earlier, but he was no longer there. ‘Where is he?’
Silence as they tugged her away.
‘Never a dull moment,’ King Jayr said, smirking to his wife.
Cora was not looking at him. She was staring at Petra, her usually cold expression dissolving into something resembling concern. But she said nothing, did nothing. They just looked at one another for a moment before Petra was led away.
All eyes were on her as she was marched from the berfrois, a guard holding each arm as if she would try to flee at any moment. How far did they think she would get if they let go of her? The entire thing was absurd and unnecessary, yet her stomach roiled with each step in the direction of the waiting wagon. It was not the royal wagon, but an unmarked one.
She looked around, but for who? Leksi was not there. Her knight could no longer come to her rescue. She had made sure of that. All she had were the memories of him—his dark, smiling eyes, clever jokes and infectious smirk. His eternally warm hands and the feel of his hard chest and firm grip. Gone was the comfort. She was no longer safe and untouchable.
The guards practically lifted her into the wagon before shutting the door. She turned and watched through the window as they mounted their horses, preparing to ride alongside her.
‘Move out,’ called one of the men, and the wagon lurched forwards, forcing her to take a seat.
Her hands went over her face, but she did not cry. She could fix this. She just needed to get in front of the king and find out what had sent his fear spiralling.
She dropped her hands to her thighs, damp palms pressing on expensive silk. A guard trotted next to the window, blocking her view of the outside world. She felt claustrophobic. It was too much like a prison.
She closed her eyes, letting her mind escape for a moment. She let it wander where it needed to go—to the ocean, to the vegetable garden she had nurtured every day, to the clean seaside air, to a sleeping Xander curled in Leksi’s arms.
Press, press, press.
Yes, she would fix this.
Chapter 29
Petra knew something was very wrong when she was taken to a guest bedchamber instead of her own quarters. The guard may not have locked the door, but she knew he waited on the other side, occasionally hearing the shuffle of his feet.
Four hours she waited, pacing the room, before finally collapsing into the chair by the window.
Press, press, press.
It was almost dark outside when the door finally opened and the king stepped inside. She sensed his fierce mood before he said a word. Slowly, she stood from the chair, hands folded in front of her, deciding to let him speak first. Whatever information Father Gabot had shared with him did not bode well for her.
Nilos closed the door behind him, pausing for a moment with his back to her.
When he finally turned, he made no move towards her. She remained where she was, safely on the other side of the room. Curtsying, she rose to meet his gaze with a neutral expression. ‘Your Majesty.’
His fingers twitched as he studied her, as though trying to decide if she were guilty before laying out his accusations. ‘I spoke with Father Gabot today,’ he began. ‘I wanted to hear his version of the events that unfolded, to find out how you slipped through his fingers. I almost lost you a second time.’ He sniffed and glanced at the bed. ‘His saving grace was that he had the good sense to take precautions, despite your rather convincing act.’
There was bitterness in his tone. It was eerie the way he stared at her without blinking.
He walked forwards, stopping next to the bedpost. ‘I would like to hear from your mouth about the events of that day, how it all played out.’
She clasped her hands tighter to stop from pressing her nails. After just a few days at Masville, her fingertips were bruised, her cuticles raw. ‘It was not some spectacular plan, as you have probably figured out.’
‘I believe I have most of the pieces now. Father Gabot was very helpful in filling in some of the blanks.’
‘I understand you lost some men that day. I am sorry it came to that. It was not our intention for anyone to die.’
‘Our intention?’
She swallowed. Had she said ‘our’? ‘I was under guard, as you know.’
His eyes flashed. ‘He was not just any guard, was he?’
She shook her head. ‘No, he was a knight following orders.’
‘Whose orders?’
She did not like where this conversation was going. ‘I believe he takes orders from Prince Tyron.’
He nodded thoughtfully. ‘So Prince Tyron ordered this knight of yours to extract your son? For that task, he sent just one knight?’
She faltered. Of course Prince Tyron would never have ordered such a thing. He had ordered her to Archdale, and she had refused to go. Leksi had thought the plan was complete madness, but he had done it anyway. He had done it for her, and had almost lost his life in the process.
‘I thought on my feet, if I am honest. I was desperate to see Xander.’