The Crown of Anavrea (The Theodoric Saga)

by Rachel Rossano

Ruarc lifted the tray until it was even with her nose. “And this is a service that a common maid can render. Not the chore of a valued wife and equal.”

  “I do it because I care for him, Ruarc, not because I have to. You don’t seem to understand that I want to do this. Now give it here. He isn’t dressed yet and I don’t want you disturbing him.”

  “Eve?” He caught her arm, suddenly serious. “You know I protest because I care. I am not leaving without you unless it is clear that you are being valued far higher than a servant.”

  “Ruarc, I am.”

  He frowned, but Eve didn’t know how to convince him at that moment. Labren needed food and her own stomach was grousing. She left her brother standing in the empty hallway and slipped into the bedroom. Kurios, please open his eyes. Let him see that I need to be here and do this.

  Despite the presence of Ruarc always lingering underfoot, Eve’s life settled into a routine. She woke early, breakfasted with Labren, and then returned the tray to the kitchen on the way to her lessons. Ruarc sat in on every one, silently watching to be sure no one hurt her.

  Labren appeared at lunch, assisted down the stairs by Han. Then the afternoon stretched into more lessons. Evening brought instrument practice, dancing instructions, and finally etiquette. By the time she finished her last lesson, dinner appeared in the dining room. Promptly afterwards, Labren needed assistance back to his room and Eve began her homework.

  Labren’s fever returned most nights. He alternated sweating and convulsing with cold. Each transition woke her because he pulled the covers on or off. Then the following morning, she began the whole regime again.

  A month passed. Olof spoke of sending a letter to Prince Hiaronical to find out the state of the situation in the Anavrean court.

  Labren opposed the idea because it would place his uncle in a tricky political position, knowing the whereabouts of an enemy of the state. He didn’t want to place a strain on the already weakening ties between his father and uncle.

  The argument took center place at each dinner. Olof built up a list of reasons for and Labren skillfully knocked each support down. Eve watched it all with a growing admiration for her husband’s skill and knowledge. Her brother, on the other hand, watched in stormy silence that grew gradually calmer with each meal. By the end of a week, he took his place at the table and glanced at each opponent waiting with obvious interest to see who would attack first. Olof invariably opened the conversation. Before the main course appeared the debate reached full swing.

  Eve woke after an unusually difficult night to find snow-like sleet icing the windows. She crept from the bed, dressed quickly before the fire, and slipped out without Labren stirring. When she returned with the tray, Labren opened his eyes.

  “Thank you, Eve.” He carefully lifted himself up so that he could lean back against the headboard. “I am not sure I am up for coming down for lunch today. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “I know. You tossed and turned. Shouldn’t the fever be gone by now?”

  “I would expect the same.” He rubbed his face with the heels of his hands. “I will have to ask Olof when I see him this morning. How did you sleep?”

  An urgent rapping at the door interrupted her reply.

  “Professor Olof wishes to see you in his office, Eve,” Han informed her when she opened the door. “I will see that Trahern eats his breakfast and take care of the tray. You better move along quickly. Olof is in a real tizzy about something your brother just told him.”

  “Do you know what it is about?”

  “He mentioned something about patrols.”

  Catching her wrap from the end of the bed and throwing it around her shoulders, Eve hurried out the door. After a quick trot down the stairs and she reached the office door within a few minutes. Heartbeat thumping wildly in her chest and hunger gnawing in her stomach, she tapped on the ornately carved wood.

  “Come.”

  Olof paced, eating up the carpet in long gangly strides. Ruarc stood to one side of the desk, arms crossed over his barrel chest, observing the older man.

  “I told you it was foolish to think that they wouldn’t find him. What is his crime anyway?”

  “Ah, Eve, there you are. Please tell me how many patrols passed the caravan on a given day.”

  “One or two every week, sir.”

  “Different patrols? Composed of different men?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were they wearing livery?”

  “No, their clothes were what I expected of bounty hunters.”

  “Worse than I thought. How many to a patrol?”

  “Six.”

  Olof shook his head. “It doesn’t match the description. It must be someone else.”

  The front bell rang, echoing through the empty front hall. All three of them listened with forced calm. A moment later young feet approached the study door at a run.

  “Soldiers in Anavrean royal livery at the door, Professor.” The young man’s eyes flickered from face to face. “Miz Abrigail would like to know when she should admit them.”

  Olof jumped forward, catching Eve’s arm as he strode for the door. “You and Trahern need to hide now.” He waved the boy out ahead of him. “Tell her to give us three minutes to clear the first floor and then stall them in the front room.”

  The lad nodded and disappeared back the way he had come.

  “Ruarc go assist with the stalling.” He ordered over his shoulder. “Most likely they are from the King and have tracked Trahern here.” He paused as though realizing something. Dropping his grip on her forearm, he pinned her brother with a piercing gaze sharp enough to draw blood. “If you want your sister to make it through this day alive, you make sure those men don’t reach the second floor until I return. Understood?”

  “Yes.” His jaw tightened and a hard glint flickered in his eyes.

  Olof took the hall at a trot and the back servant stairs two at a time. Eve’s heart hammered in her chest by the time they reached the second floor. Han and Labren waited for them outside the bedroom door. Labren leaned against the wall, his face tight. Han held a blanket roll under one arm.

  Upon seeing them, Han immediately began running down a mental list in a hushed hurry, ticking them off on his fingers. “Their belongings are already stowed. The wagon and horses went to the farmer last week. All the students are already trained to withhold any details. You just need to give them the signal.”

  Olof nodded. “Good. I will.” He turned to address Eve. Steely blue eyes bored into hers. “You and Trahern must hide now.”

  “Which room?” Labren asked.

  “We are not going to be able to get you into the cellar, but Han put you in the supply room upstairs. I will go back down the way we came and stall them as long as possible. Han, come down to the offices as quickly and silently as you can. I will expect you there.”

  With those final instructions, he strode back toward the servants’ stairs. Eve offered Labren a shoulder for support. He accepted it, shifting weight from the wall to her.

  “All right,” Han offered Labren a slight smile. “Don’t make a sound and follow me.”

  Eve could hear Abrigail answering the front door in the entranceway below. Any noise they might have made was covered by the sounds of stomping boots and the voices below.

  The weight of Labren’s body leaning on her reminded Eve of their trek in the woods. It seemed like ages ago to her. Yet, she knew only a few months passed.

  Han reached the door to the stairs a few minutes before Eve and Labren. He waited as they carefully and steadily covered the short distance. Labren’s leg was healing, but he had lost a lot of his strength. She strengthened her grip on his waist as they joined Han.

  The climb up the stairs required more strength than Labren had. In the end, Han practically carried him to the top. Eve, carrying the blankets, followed them. After that, it was much easier. Han led them quickly across the large room that served as a recreation area and stage for the students. On
the other side, he unlocked a small door.

  He turned to Labren.“You know the rest.” He laid the quilts on the floor inside. “I will lock the door and go down and see what is going on.” Labren urged Eve inside, but placed a hand on Han’s shoulder before he followed.

  “Thank you, Atluer.” Han gave him a quick embrace and then Labren hurried after Eve.

  Before he shut the door, he smiled at them. “We will protect you.” Then the door closed. Eve heard the lock click and the sound of the key being drawn out. Labren faced the door until Han’s footsteps could no longer be heard.

  Taking a deep breath, he turned and regarded her.

  Labren’s heart ached as he turned away from the door. He did not have much opportunity to dwell on it though. He was, at once, confronted by the frightened face of his young wife. Smiling to reassure her, he studied her face. Her green eyes, large with fear, overwhelmed her features. The ashen color of her skin made him wonder if she was going to faint on him.

  “Come, we need to find the cupboard we are going to hide in.” Hopefully, getting her mind on something practical would be distracting.

  With great caution, they made their way through the maze of covered furniture, boxes, and trunks crowding the room. Sunlight poured in from the window on the west wall.

  With only a few whispered instructions, they found the cupboard that he remembered. A solid oak monolith, it stood against the wall farthest from the door. The body of the piece began a foot above the floor and rose to about Eve’s shoulders. The length of the front was twice the height and four times the depth. On the outside it appeared to be just like any ordinary cupboard anyone would find in a pantry, kitchen or basement. When Labren opened the doors and lowered the false back, a gaping hole appeared. The space inside went back into the wall behind. A clever catch was installed into the trim around the false back so it could be opened from the inside or outside.

  Eve shot him a questioning look when the false panel obeyed his fingers’ command and revealed the small area beyond.

  “Now would not be a good time to tell me you’re claustrophobic,” Labren joked.

  Her horror answered his flippant remark. His insides clenched in dread as he watched fear tense the muscles in her hands, balling them against her skirt. She was going to panic on him if he did not do something. He pushed himself across the space between them. She fought him slightly when he first enclosed her in his arms, but then relaxed against his chest. He leaned against a nearby trunk, rubbing his hands up and down her back. They had to get inside, but how to tell her this.

  “Do you trust me, Eve?”

  The fair head bobbed slightly. Labren smiled.

  “I trust you, too.” His voice was soft. “Darling, we have to do this. You know that.” He took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. “We can do this together, okay?” After a few moments, Eve finally nodded. He silently breathed a sigh of relief.

  Deciding that she would probably feel less closed-in if she was closest to the door, he climbed in first. The area was too low to sit up in. Labren laid down full length and then slid sideways into the small space. Settling on the quilts spread on the rough wood, Labren finally motioned for Eve to come.

  Her fear became tangible as she backed into the space toward him. Carefully, she latched the outer doors from the inside, and then she slid back farther so she could close the secret panel.

  Labren felt her shudder as the latch caught with a soft click. “Labren?” Her voice broke.

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you?”

  Earlier Labren committed to not pursuing the physical side of their marriage during the day. He often ached to touch her hand or hair, but he held back. At night, he usually waited for her to fall asleep before he drew her close. She never protested and during the last few weeks her arms solaced him while the fever raged in his body. She comforted him when the shivers made it so he could not warm himself.

  Yet again, Labren longed to reach out to her, but fear that touching her would nudge her over the edge into hysterics held him back. “I am right here.” She rolled toward him and followed the sound of his voice with her fingers to his mouth.

  “Hold me, please.”

  Not waiting for a second request, Labren reached out and pulled her to him. Her whole body shook as she buried her face against him. He whispered against her hair, “All you have to do is ask.”

  An hour later, Labren stared into the darkness and listened to Eve’s steady breathing. Sleep brought her relief soon after they closed the door. Savoring the sweetness of her closeness, he breathed in the scent of her so that it filled his chest.

  He cherished the tender sprouts of trust manifesting in the last weeks. Fear no longer darkened her eyes when the time came to retire. Ever since their last night with the wagon train, she had not resisted his embrace and closeness when they slept. In fact, more recently she had begun to curl up against his back at night. Thankful for the warmth her body gave, he also appreciated the effect of her presence on his sleep.

  Since he was eight, death haunted his dreams. Each episode differed, but they all ended the same way: a lost fight to the death and a sudden awakening after the final blow. Heart pounding, sweat drenched, and nerves on fire, he frequently started up, gaining his feet before his thoughts. All that had suddenly changed on that night before they left the wagon train. No dreams came that night at all. Eve’s sweet presence in his arms seemed to keep them away.

  Eve shifted in his arms and nuzzled more closely to his chest. Labren moved to accommodate her new position. As he did, his hand fell to her shoulder. Warm, soft, and inviting, he fought his resolutions to not pursue her until she was ready. Gently he brushed his fingertips against the side of her face, closing his eyes to savor the silky softness of it. She sighed and turned her face toward his touch.

  Thoughts of kissing her crowded his mind. As he did with increasing frequency of late, he wrestled them aside. He refused to rush her. He wanted her to want it too. Extra caution was a necessity because of the strength of the desire growing with each passing day. He groaned softly. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to go much farther than just lips to mouth.

  Footsteps thundered distantly. Labren’s heart jumped. He listened. The tempo and intensity indicated children. After a few moments, they pattered out of range.

  What if it hadn’t been just the children? The thought made his breakfast sour in his stomach. Death for them both would be the only answer. His father made it clear that Labren’s life was worthless. Eve’s would be even less valuable. The king wasn’t one to wait patiently for nature to manifest whether or not she was with child. Hanging or simply the sword would deal with the problem.

  His middle cramped. They had to escape notice. Eve must live.

  Fingering the curling ends of Eve’s braids where the pins were giving way, he wondered how it would look down around her shoulders. Only once, when she was drying it after washing, had he seen it in all of its golden waved glory. The scent of heather whispered to him. Someday, hopefully soon, he would be able to thread his fingers through the loose strands...

  Pulling his thoughts up short, he tried to guide them back to the danger they faced. His plan of speaking with his brother and offering his services to the Secret Service as Labren Marcus no longer seemed plausible. Ireic intended to offer him the crown. Labren frowned. He didn’t want it.

  What kind of a king would he make? He hated bureaucracy and politics, much preferring straight answers and honesty. Formality and rank annoyed him. And, fashion was a joke. Well over half of the government was corrupt and self-glorying. Besides, Eve wouldn’t fit among them. The thought of Eve putting on airs, spending hours on her toilet, or flirting with noblemen evoked a mixture of laughter and disgust. She would try to adapt. He knew she would, but he couldn’t bear the thought of her trying. He loved her just the way she was.

  He had never desired his birthright. Trained his whole life to claim it, he hoped to convince Ir
eic to keep it. Even with Ireic on the throne, his life with Eve wouldn’t be completely untouched. Children would become a pressing necessity to secure the royal line and stability for the nation. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation with Eve. She still shied away from the topic or any possible reference.

  She shifted slightly. A passing flutter of breath against his cheek made his heart thump wildly. No, Eve’s needs and desires were quickly taking priority over anything else. She was his. She needed him. And, more importantly, he needed her.

  “I need to shift my leg.”

  Eve jumped. Labren’s arms tightened protectively around her. One hand caressed her shoulder in slow circles.

  “Sorry, I did not mean to startle you.”

  Thoughts waded through the fog in her head as Eve struggled to remember where she was. The unique smell of her husband surrounded her. It felt too small to be the shack where they had stayed…she remembered. Thick walls closed in as the cottony air clogged her mouth.

  “It’s okay. We are safe.” Labren’s soothing voice met her rising panic. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. “I am here,” he reassured her. She clutched at his arms, but he evaded her hands.

  “All I am doing is moving my leg into a better position.”

  His voice made it easy for her to follow his movements. Finally his arms returned to their places around her, but this time his face was even with hers. The warmth of his breath brushed her cheek. As though sensing her wariness, Labren asked, “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes,” she croaked, barely above a whisper. Her mouth tasted disgusting. His hand in her hair and the warmth of his lips on her forehead distracted her from the gritty nastiness in her mouth for a moment.

  “You seem less agitated.” His chest vibrated beneath her palms.

  “How long have we been in here?” She leaned into his warmth and wondered if his nightly fever was back.

  “I would guess about five hours, give or take a half hour.” He shifted his body weight again. In the process, his leg brushed hers. Suddenly aware of the stuffiness of their box, Eve’s heart rate accelerated. She tried to fight the fear. She started whispering, “I am not going to panic,” over and over under her breath. She concentrated so hard on not panicking that she did not realize something was wrong until something pressed across her mouth. At first she thought it was Labren’s hand, but quickly realized it was not when he pulled her closer with both of his hands. He was kissing her.