by Tanya Bird
‘Nuisance?’ Blake said, taking a step in his direction. ‘The merchants sing my sister’s praises. She spends more time helping people over that wall than here with her own family.’
Thomas looked down his straight nose at her. ‘You say that like it is admirable to abandon one’s responsibilities at home.’ He turned his attention back to Candace. ‘Regardless of the reason behind the invitation, Lyndal must attend. We wish to keep the queen mother happy.’
Candace looked back at Lyndal. ‘I suppose she can attend if Queen Fayre has requested her presence.’
Thomas gave a curt nod. Then, turning back to his horse, he mounted, flicking his cloak out behind him. ‘If rumour is to be believed, the match between the young king and the Toryn princess is no longer. The food situation in Toryn is worse than here in Chadora. Better His Majesty find a well-bred wife here in his own kingdom, where we have enough mouths to feed already.’
Candace and Lyndal exchanged a knowing look. It was no secret that Thomas wished to see a crown on his daughter’s head. The Suttone sisters had no objections. They adored their spoiled cousin and wished her nothing but the best.
‘I think we can all agree that Lady Kendra would be an exceptional match,’ Thomas continued. ‘She comes from a long line of nobility, is well-spoken, educated—but not so educated as to make the king appear a fool.’
The king did not need any help with that. His everyday actions spoke volumes about his intellect.
‘And she is fertile,’ Thomas added, despite having no proof of the fact.
Candace smiled. ‘And compassionate. A true queen.’
Thomas cast a stern look at Lyndal. ‘Compassionate when appropriate, mind.’
She wondered what he deemed inappropriate compassion.
‘It is likely she will simply wish to meet you,’ Thomas continued. ‘Then you will be free to help in the kitchen or assist Lady Kendra if she should need you throughout the evening.’ He adjusted the reins. ‘It will benefit you all to show your cousin in the best possible light.’
Lyndal forced a smile. Anything to end the conversation. She needed him gone before the boar went rogue again. ‘We would all love to see Lady Kendra with a crown on that clever head of hers.’
He nodded. ‘And be sure to mention her charitable nature. She has, after all, taken her half-merchant cousin under her wing.’
Candace looked down at the ground. ‘I suppose the occasional visit might be seen as charitable.’
‘Shall we withhold food until tomorrow?’ Blake asked. ‘To give my sister that slightly starved look one expects from a merchant?’
Thomas levelled her with a disapproving look. ‘Did your mother never teach you how unbecoming sarcasm is on a lady?’
Blake adjusted her grip on the rope as the boar pulled once more. ‘She has certainly tried, my lord.’
Thomas shook his head. ‘I will send for Lyndal in the afternoon. My daughter will find something appropriate for her to wear.’
Candace bristled. ‘Lyndal has plenty of fine dresses, my lord.’
His gaze drifted to Eda. ‘And you. Are you speaking yet?’
Eda did not even shake her head. She liked to infuriate him by playing deaf as well as mute.
Lyndal spoke up on her behalf. ‘Not yet, my lord, but I assure you we’re all working towards the same mutual goal.’
Thomas all but sneered as he turned his horse, then cantered away without so much as a goodbye.
Only when he exited the gate did Lyndal turn to her sisters. ‘With the Toryn princess out of the way, every noble man with a daughter will be parading their offspring before the king now. You watch.’
‘We cannot blame your uncle for being among them,’ Candace said. ‘Kendra is a very competent young woman.
‘With no understanding of the world outside her borough,’ Blake said. ‘I love her dearly, but she’s a little out of touch for the role.’
‘Can you imagine if Uncle succeeded?’ Lyndal said. ‘He’ll be even more unbearable with that kind of power behind him.’
Candace brought her hand to her forehead. ‘Let us not get ahead of ourselves.’
The boar thrashed and pulled Eda in the other direction once more. Lyndal and Blake both grabbed for the rope.
‘Let’s focus on getting the boar in the pen today,’ Lyndal said. ‘And rebuilding the pen when she breaks it apart,’ she added quietly.
Blake shooed her sister out of the way. ‘And catching her when she escapes?’
Eda smiled. Then you’ll need to wash the debris, mud, and pig shit off you before you meet the queen mother.
‘Language,’ Candace said, tutting.
I didn’t say a word, Eda signed before dragging the boar away.
Chapter 3
Astin stood at the king’s side, watching the disgruntled merchants gathered in the square before them. He studied their hands, expressions, distribution of weight, all while taking mental notes of the weapons concealed beneath oversized clothes—clothes that had likely fit once upon a time.
‘This is how a good king deals with his people,’ Borin whispered to him. ‘Face to face, in their own setting.’
He was repeating what his mother had told him that morning. Queen Fayre was an excellent puppeteer, and Borin seemed content being the puppet—for now.
Men stood in groups watching the exchange between Borin and the merchants representing them. It was clear by their body language that they had not forgiven the king for the lockdown which had taken so much from them. Hundreds of merchants had died from lack of food and illnesses stemming from it. To make matters worse, Borin had then trapped the merchants in the square and instructed his men to shoot them, naively believing his father’s killer would miraculously reveal himself.
The killer still had not been found.
Astin had a bigger problem at present. In the year since Borin’s coronation, there had been four attempts on the king’s life, ranging from poisoning to an attempted drowning in a bathtub. The problem with hatred of that kind is that it has the ability to seep through walls.
‘I really do not understand the problem here,’ Borin said, his chest expanding. ‘There has been more meat in the merchant borough since I became king. Plus there are fewer people to feed now.’
Astin winced. The fact that there were fewer people should have been a matter of shame.
‘That shows you how little there was before,’ replied the man, ‘not how plentiful it is now. I’m a butcher. I can’t even speak directly with the farmers I’m to buy from.’
‘That wall needs to come down,’ said another. ‘Or at the very least the gate should be opened for business.’
Borin’s lips pinched as he looked between the men. ‘I must balance the needs of the entire kingdom, not one borough.’ He scoffed. ‘You should be thanking me for what you have. Instead, you hold out your hand while complaining. You are free to buy directly from the sea merchants who come each month, because the wall you complain about protects our livestock from the diseases you will inevitably introduce. We have built something unique here, something that is the envy of many.’
The merchants stared back at him, brows creased and mouths downturned.
‘Something unique all right,’ said a man at the back. ‘A prison camp.’
The merchants’ hands twitched at their sides, signalling that it was time to go.
‘Let’s end it there,’ Astin said quietly, all the while scanning their surroundings. If it were up to him, he would have come with a small army or not at all. He was by no means a fan of the king, but he took his responsibility to keep the man alive seriously.
Borin glanced at his bodyguard, then nodded. ‘I believe the matter to be sorted.’
The merchants exchanged a look that would melt iron. One of the men went to follow the king.
‘That’s far enough,’ Astin said, stepping in front of him. He remained there until Borin was safely on his horse, then looked around before following him.
> ‘The famine is not over yet—for anyone,’ Borin called. ‘If you think the rest of Wales is fairing any better, you are wrong. Carmarthenshire is a muddy wasteland of skeletons.’
It was true that other kingdoms under King Edward’s rule were no better off. Many people foolishly travelled to Chadora seeking refuge from the famine, then died waiting to be let in.
Astin mounted his horse and gestured for the king to start moving.
‘You’re killing us, one by one,’ someone shouted after them. ‘We were better off when Aymer de Valence controlled this land—and that’s saying something.’
Astin shot the man a warning look, conscious that Borin was easily set off by the slightest suggestion that both he and his father were not superior to the 2nd Earl of Pembroke in every way. Their rivalry was the reason Pembroke became Chadora upon the earl’s exile.
‘You’re not fit to be king!’ the other shouted.
Astin blinked. ‘Just keep riding.’
Borin turned in his saddle, mouth agape. ‘Are you going to let them speak to me like that?’
‘They’re just blowing off steam. They’re not real threats.’
‘Go on, run back to your castle,’ the man called, walking after them. ‘You think you’re safe there?’
And there it was. A threat to the king’s life—punishable by death. Not a quick death either but the slow torturous kind, where by the time they were actually strung up on the wall, their own family did not recognise them.
Astin dismounted and marched over to the man, grabbing him by the front of the shirt and throwing him to the ground with such force that the air left him in one violent gasp. Making a fist, he punched the man in the face, ensuring he broke his nose for effect. Blood poured freely as the merchant writhed on the ground, cursing and blinking away tears.
The bodyguard prayed it was enough to satisfy the king.
Borin watched the man for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod before turning his horse away. Astin looked around at the other merchants, one glance making it clear no one was to move. A broken nose was better than a public execution, and they all knew it.
He marched back to his horse and mounted once more. Then the pair made their way across the square towards the rising portcullis.
‘Tonight I will be dining with Lord Thomas Welche,’ Borin said, having already moved on from the violent scene. ‘While he may be one of the more prominent figures in the nobility borough, his name is not without scandal.’
Astin had encountered the cocky lord enough times to form an opinion of him. He had seen the way he spoke to the Suttone family. He had even once seen him take a hand to the youngest of the sisters. Though only the once. A visit from Harlan had put an end to that. Even Lyndal tended to shut down in his presence, and she was as outspoken as they came.
‘His wife’s sister married a merchant,’ the king went on. ‘Four children. I believe the son died in the tunnels a few years back. And the daughters.’ He shook his head. ‘Beautiful trouble. The eldest married Commander Wright, as you know.’
Astin drew a long breath and prayed for patience.
‘It shows what a tattered state his mind was in after he was removed from his post.’ Borin tutted. ‘Still, I will not speak too poorly of him. I am aware of your ongoing friendship.’
On and on he went, with his own unique version of events. Astin had learned long ago that there was no point trying to correct him. He was never wrong about anything.
‘I suspect Lord Thomas wishes to present his daughter as a potential wife. She is well bred and in her prime so far as fertility goes. Though I cannot for the life of me picture her face. I suppose if she was a horse of a girl, I would surely remember that.’
That was true. He always remembered a person’s faults.
‘What say you on the matter?’ Borin asked, looking sideways at him.
They passed beneath the archway into the royal borough.
‘It’s not for me to comment. Your mother is far more qualified to guide you on such things. But I pray whatever union follows is a happy one.’
That was mostly for his own sake. It was uncomfortable enough bearing witness to family fights. Couple fights would be a whole other headache.
‘Or perhaps I shall simply take her as a mistress,’ Borin said, sounding pleased with himself.
Astin stared straight ahead. ‘Don’t mistresses come after marriage?’
‘Mother is always telling me to think ahead.’
The bodyguard was fairly sure she had not been referring to mistresses at the time but said nothing.
‘You might be content with tavern whores and servant romps, Fletcher, but a king can select his conquests from any part of the kingdom.’
Astin was not sure which was worse, Borin using the word ‘conquests’ or the fact that the king was aware of his entanglements with maids. If the warden found out, Astin would be in a lot of trouble.
‘Do you require additional guards for this evening?’ Astin asked, moving the conversation along.
‘I assure you I am quite safe in the nobility borough,’ Borin replied with a chuckle. ‘They all love me.’
Not true. Many were losing patience with his lack of direction and progress. They may have had more food than the merchants, but what they did not have was a strong leader to make them feel secure about their future. A boy guided by his ego was not adequate.
‘If you aren’t safe in your home, then you aren’t safe anywhere,’ Astin said.
The king adjusted his reins. ‘Well, then it is a good thing I have you to be afraid on my behalf. My father always said fear is a waste of a king’s energy.’
Brave words born of stupidity.
‘Do try to relax this evening,’ Borin said. ‘You can be a bit of a wet blanket at these kinds of gatherings.’
‘Due to my bad habit of saving your life?’
Borin chuckled again. ‘You do know I kept you on as my highest-ranking guard for your jokes. You always know how to make me laugh.’
‘While I appreciate that,’ Astin said dryly, ‘the other part of my job is to keep you safe.’
Borin kicked his horse into a trot. ‘Why not find yourself a fresh maid to entertain you for the evening?’
Drawing a calming breath, Astin followed him.
Chapter 4
‘Rubies or emeralds?’ Kendra asked.
Lyndal turned away from the window and faced her cousin, who was holding two necklaces to her collarbone. She wore a cream gown, the bodice embroidered with tiny roses and the neckline and cuffs trimmed with gold fabric.
‘My goodness. All you’re missing is the veil.’
Kendra’s face fell. ‘Is it too much like a wedding gown?’
‘Is that not the point?’ Lyndal asked, walking over and taking the emerald necklace from her cousin’s hand. ‘Definitely the emeralds.’
Kendra turned, assessing her reflection in the long mirror while Lyndal fitted the necklace. ‘I think the point is to be subtle, not throw a bride at him the moment he steps through the front door.’
Lyndal smiled to herself. ‘Well, if King Borin doesn’t immediately propose after seeing you in this dress, then he truly is mad.’ She appeared behind Kendra in the mirror, squeezing her cousin’s arm encouragingly. ‘You look absolutely beautiful.’
Kendra’s hand went over hers. ‘I am pleased you are here. I do hope Father was nice when he extended the invitation.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I can handle dear Uncle Thomas.’ She squeezed her cousin’s arm again before letting go. ‘It’s nice to spend time with my favourite cousin.’
‘Hardly a compliment. I am your only living cousin in Chadora.’ Kendra turned to see herself from the back. ‘I am sorry I have not spent more time with you all over the previous year. Father likes to keep my social life nice and busy, perhaps to get me out from under his feet. And you know how time slips by.’
Lyndal waved the apology away. ‘Never mind that. I’m rarely in the borough
anyway.’
‘Yes, Mother keeps me up to date with all your charity work.’
Lyndal scrunched her nose up. Charity was a popular term among the nobility. The ladies loved to appear “charitable” before their peers whilst never actually stepping foot outside their borough.
‘What is the plan exactly?’ Lyndal asked, changing the subject. ‘Am I to sing your praises before the queen and then vanish into the kitchen to help wash dishes?’
Kendra walked over to the wooden stool in front of the dressing table and sat. Picking up the powder, she began dusting her face for the eighteenth time. ‘Father says he will be led by the queen’s wishes. I assured him you are more than capable of carrying polite conversation. He frets you will bring up the almshouse.’
Lyndal played with the ends of her hair. ‘Well, it would be the ideal audience to share some of my ideas.’
‘But not the right time.’ Kendra cast a stern look over her shoulder.
With a heavy sigh, Lyndal replied, ‘Then you better find me a rich husband when you’re queen. One way or the other, I’m getting my almshouse.’
She had been throwing the idea at anyone who would listen. A home in the merchant borough for those with nowhere else to go. The sick and hungry would never die alone on a muddy street again.
Kendra met Lyndal’s eyes in the mirror. ‘I am quite certain all eligible noblemen will overlook your inferior bloodlines if a crown does land upon my head.’
It was not intended as a nasty comment, so Lyndal let it slide past her. It was not her cousin’s fault she was blinded by her own privilege. Her father was Lord Thomas Welche, after all. In fact, Kendra had come out surprisingly well considering the fact.
A knock at the door made them both turn, and a maid entered the room.
‘The king’s just arrived out front, my lady.’
Kendra rose, pinching her powdered cheeks as she faced Lyndal. ‘How do I look?’
A lazy smile appeared on Lyndal’s face. ‘Like a queen.’
Astin dismounted, looking around the neat gardens of Cardelle Manor, then up at the windows above. It was tempting to assume the king was safe within the walls of the nobility borough, but the bodyguard knew there were no safe havens in Chadora for an unpopular king.