by Tanya Bird
‘So much cuteness,’ she said quietly. ‘Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?’
Astin was no longer looking at the boarlets. He was watching her. ‘No,’ he said before looking away. His gaze met Blake’s in the process. Those sharp eyes of hers did not miss much. Standing, he brushed wood shavings off his trousers. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye and meet me at the horses.’
Lyndal appeared taken aback by the abrupt departure. ‘That’s awfully trusting of you. Shouldn’t you frisk Blake before leaving?’
‘And have Harlan beat me to a pulp when he learns of it later?’ he replied. ‘No, thanks.’ He nodded a farewell at Blake before turning away. ‘Don’t be long.’
Chapter 12
The next week passed in a blur of social gatherings and chess matches. Then suddenly they were six days out from the Solar Festival, having more conversations about dresses than Lyndal could stomach.
‘What do you think of this one?’ Kendra asked Lyndal. ‘Too yellow?’
‘We’re celebrating Belenus,’ Lyndal replied. ‘There’s no such thing as too yellow when it comes to sun gods.’
She was saved by a knock at the door, yet another invitation to play chess on the terrace. By the time the women left their quarters the rain fell heavy. Lyndal expected the gathering to be moved indoors, but when they arrived, she found Queen Fayre and the king seated comfortably beneath umbrellas the size of wagons. Servants held the umbrellas in place, blinking against the rain pounding their faces.
‘Dear God,’ Lyndal whispered to Kendra as they remained tucked in the doorway, taking in the scene.
Kendra pointed. ‘Oh, look. Here come some more umbrellas. We will be fine.’
‘We will, but what about the poor servants holding them?’ She looked over her shoulder at Astin, whose expression matched her own. ‘This is insanity,’ she mouthed.
He stepped out into the weather without saying a word, taking his usual position against the wall. At least he was mostly under cover there. Kendra and Lyndal had no choice but to move beneath the waiting umbrellas and join the royal family for chess.
‘Lyndal, you can play me,’ Queen Fayre said, gesturing to the seat opposite.
Lyndal took a seat, the umbrella moving with her, then watched as Kendra floated over to the table where the king waited. Her cousin curtsied, said something that made him smile, then lowered herself elegantly into the chair opposite him.
‘I know it is wet,’ Queen Fayre said, reading her mind, ‘but fresh air is very important.’
Lyndal snuck a look over her shoulder and found Astin watching her. It was comforting knowing there was one other sane person on that terrace. ‘I believe it’s your turn to go first,’ she said as she faced forwards again.
‘I believe you are right.’
They played to a chorus of rain splattering around them, her cousin’s delicate laughter occasionally drifting in their direction. It seemed every word the king uttered amused her. There were sure signs of attraction from both parties. Lyndal could see it in the way he leaned in when he spoke, the way his eyes fell to Kendra’s mouth when she replied.
‘Checkmate,’ Fayre said, sitting back.
Lyndal’s eyes snapped back to the board, and sure enough, she had lost—again. She had yet to beat the queen mother, and it was not because she was letting her win.
‘Time to change players,’ Fayre said, waving her hand. ‘You can switch seats with Lady Kendra.’
Lyndal glanced at Borin, who appeared annoyed by the suggestion. ‘His Majesty seems quite happy with his current opponent.’
‘Mother thinks you might have some magical ideas about how to win the merchants over prior to the festival,’ the king said. ‘She is putting you in front of me in hope that we discuss it.’
‘Oh.’ Lyndal did not move.
‘I thought a flag parade might cheer everyone up.’ The king was practically shouting to compete with the noise of the rain. ‘Cheer people up.’
A flag parade? The merchants did not need cheering up, they needed food. ‘A flag parade is one idea,’ Lyndal replied.
‘Off you go,’ Fayre said, dismissing her.
Lyndal hesitantly rose from her chair. The servant holding the umbrella moved with her, his arm trembling from holding it up for so long. She glanced apologetically at him.
‘Tell the king some of your ideas,’ Queen Fayre said as she fixed the chess pieces.
Kendra and Lyndal exchanged a confused look as they passed one another.
‘A flag parade is very patriotic,’ Kendra called as she took a seat.
Lyndal wished Astin could hear the conversation. He would surely find the idea of a flag parade as ridiculous as she did.
‘What about community garden beds?’ Lyndal said as she moved her pawn.
The king cast a tired look at his mother.
‘Hear her out,’ Fayre said without looking at him.
Borin exhaled through his nose. ‘Go on, then. Tell us about these garden beds.’
On the plus side, if he hated her suggestion, he might never speak to her again.
‘There’s a strip of land between the shops and the forest line. It gets plenty of light, but the grass has died. Now it’s just a long stretch of mud with a few stepping stones to navigate it.’ She took her next turn. ‘There’s plenty of room for some raised garden beds that could be easily maintained by the merchants.’
The queen mother looked in her direction. ‘What has prevented the merchants from doing something with the space themselves? Lack of materials?’
‘A lack of quality soil. With no animal manure or food scraps to speak of, there’s no way to improve the quality of what’s there.’
King Borin leaned back in his chair, regarding her. ‘Nothing would make it to maturity. It would be snatched by the first greedy merchant to lay eyes on it. Or perhaps you expect me to provide defenders to guard the gardens?’
Irritation pulsed through Lyndal as she stared at him. ‘True, there may be problems initially until people get used to the idea of regular food. But that’s not for you to manage. The merchants are more than capable of dealing with it. We’re quite self-sufficient when given the opportunity.’
The king watched her for the longest time. ‘Do you honestly expect me to believe that if I supply some horse shit and a bit of soil, the merchants will change their opinion of me?’
She shook her head. ‘No. It’ll take a lot more than that. It’ll take consistent acts that demonstrate you understand their situation and wish to help. You can’t just deliver some materials and make some empty speech. You need to show up in a meaningful way.’ She paused. ‘Plant vegetables that will help with the scurvy problem they’re facing. They’ll not forget it.’
Borin leaned forwards in his chair. ‘Feels a lot like grovelling.’
‘It’s not grovelling.’
‘A peace offering, then,’ he said, waving away her retort.
Lyndal’s eyes met Fayre’s, and the queen mother gave her an encouraging nod. She drew a breath. ‘You know, a flag parade would be a splendid way to finish. You could be first to turn the soil, then lead the parade through the village.’
That got the king’s interest. ‘I shall consider the idea.’ He tapped the board, making the pieces rattle. ‘It is your move.’
Lyndal pushed her castle to the far end of the board, then glanced at Queen Fayre. The faintest of smiles played on the queen mother’s lips. She nodded her approval before turning her attention to her game.
Astin stepped inside King Borin’s quarters and bowed. ‘You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?’
Borin held his arms out while a servant buttoned his silk tunic. ‘Yes. Come in.’ He shooed the servant away when he was done and turned to face Astin. ‘I shall be heading into the merchant borough tomorrow to open a garden and will lead the flag parade afterwards. I have asked the warden to prepare the borough and ensure it is safe.’ He turned to the mirror. ‘I would like Lady Kendra and her co
usin to accompany me for the event. Lady Kendra for her company and Lyndal for her newfound popularity within the borough. Turns out the peasants are rather fond of her. She can be my human shield, if you will.’
Astin’s eyebrows came together in a hard line. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Borin met his eyes in the glass. ‘Relax, Fletcher. No one will be shooting arrows at me with her planted at my side. I can see you are still upset with me for assigning you to the women.’
‘Not at all.’
‘If you truly desire to be back in my service, all you need do is ask.’
Astin drew a breath. ‘I’d prefer to follow orders, Your Majesty. I’ll consult directly with the warden about the safest way to proceed.’
‘Do not fret about me. The warden has assured me I will be quite safe with what he has planned.’
Astin’s gaze fell to the ground. ‘While that’s a relief indeed, my focus is on the ladies under my protection.’
Borin waved a hand. ‘I cannot foresee any issues with my best guard on the job.’
‘Is that all, Your Majesty?’ Astin asked, impatient to flee.
‘Actually, there was another matter I wanted to discuss.’ Borin turned once more and extended a hand for the servant to slip rings on. ‘It is regarding Lyndal.’
That got Astin’s full attention. ‘Yes?’
‘Pretty thing. Dull in conversation, however.’
Astin scraped his teeth over his lower lip and waited.
‘I wish to know if her virtue is intact,’ Borin said, lifting his jewelled hand and admiring it. ‘I imagine she has been on her best behaviour since arriving here, but every woman has a past. Wright should be able to speak on the subject, though if I went to him directly, I doubt he would be very forthcoming given our history.’
Astin reminded himself to breathe. ‘Why?’ The word came out choked, prompting Borin to look in his direction.
‘What do you mean, why?’
‘What do you need that information for?’
Borin straightened and stared at him. ‘Because I wish to know. A king is not required to explain himself to anyone.’
Astin wet his lips and glanced at the window. ‘Lyndal is a lady in every sense of the word. To question that does her a dishonour.’
Borin took a step in his direction. ‘What is the matter with you? I have asked something of you, and still you stand here. You are dismissed, defender.’
He knew his time was up when the king addressed him as ‘defender’. Bowing his head, he left the room.
‘He just keeps getting better,’ Astin told Harlan.
They were standing at the edge of the training yard, watching Roul Thornton fight.
‘He’ll be warden before we know it,’ Harlan said, turning to Astin. He looked him up and down. ‘What’s wrong with you? You look like a kicked puppy. Where are the girls?’
‘Safely with the queen mother on the terrace. I’ve just been to see the king.’
‘Ah. So you’re pissed off at the king. What did he do now?’
Astin’s mouth soured. ‘He was asking about Lyndal’s… history.’
A confused look came over Harlan’s face. ‘What history?’
Astin met his gaze, and Harlan’s features hardened in response.
‘He seriously asked you if she was a virgin?’
Astin nodded.
‘I thought you said Kendra holds his interest,’ Harlan said.
‘She does. I’ve watched him closely with both women. He tolerates Lyndal’s company at best.’
The commander’s gaze shifted to the castle. ‘So I don’t have to worry about him taking her as a mistress?’
Just hearing the word ‘mistress’ in a sentence where she was the subject had Astin’s feet shuffling. It should not have mattered to him either way, but apparently his protection of her was not purely duty related. Too much time spent together—that was the problem. Now he was behaving like an overprotective… brother? Friend? Any feelings beyond that were impractical and dangerous.
‘The queen mother is probably thinking about suitors,’ Harlan said. ‘She’s taken with Lyndal and probably wants to be of help in that regard.’
Astin watched as Roul disarmed a recruit in two moves. ‘I doubt Lyndal will be interested in any man the queen mother recommends.’
‘What makes you say that?’
He shrugged. ‘She seems like the kind of woman who wants to pick her own husband.’
Harlan chuckled.
‘What’s so funny?’
Harlan’s gaze slid to Astin. ‘You. Jealous.’
‘Here we go.’ Though Astin wondered if the sensation resembling a stomach full of lead was indeed jealousy.
Roul was pairing the recruits up to spar and gestured to Harlan.
‘I’m needed,’ the commander said. ‘Tell the king what you must to keep your head and nothing more. And pray Queen Fayre is playing matchmaker. That’s better than any agenda the king might have.’
Shit. It did feel a lot like jealousy. It was climbing his throat and heating his palms. He was in big trouble if it turned out he had feelings for the woman he had spent the previous year tormenting. And Harlan would hang him from the nearest tree if he ever did anything to ruin her chances of finding happiness—and she deserved that happiness.
Pushing every rising feeling down to the pit of his stomach, he put on his defender face and headed for the castle.
Chapter 13
The merchants’ expressions ranged from curious to pure hatred. Not only did they not forgive the king standing on the edge of the newly built garden bed, a shovel loaded with manure in hand, but many wished him dead.
‘Let Prince Becket step up and have a go at leading us,’ Astin had overheard men say at the taverns. ‘He can’t do any worse than the arse currently sitting on the throne.’
Becket might have been a viable option if he had shown any interest in the role at all. The fact that he fled Chadora the day after the coronation showed he wanted no part in any of it.
‘I hope to see flourishing garden beds next time I visit,’ the king continued, trying not to draw breath.
It was oddly satisfying seeing him press his nose to his shoulder every few moments to manage the smell.
He coughed. ‘Cabbages the size of heads.’
The problem with that visual was that a decapitated head currently sat on a pike in the square. The merchant man had been caught atop the farming wall and had managed to kill two defenders before being caught.
Astin noticed Lyndal look down at her feet, no doubt thinking the same thing he was. He found himself doing that a lot. Someone would say or do something, and he would look to her for a reaction. Sometimes she met his gaze, sharing her private thoughts without speaking a word.
To King Borin’s credit, he did actually place the manure into the garden and turn the soil over it—sort of. He then wandered between the new garden beds, feigning interest and deflecting questions about when more meat would be coming.
Queen Fayre wandered also, stopping to have the conversations her son was fleeing from. Her gaze always drifted though. To the wasting faces watching her. To her oblivious son. To Kendra, who stood balanced on a stepping stone, trying to keep her shoes clean. And to Lyndal, who walked through the mud without a second thought to her shoes or the hem of her dress. She was completely at home digging and planting alongside the other merchants. At one point she even handed out cups of water to the men doing the labour. Then she called the children over to help with the planting, telling them they were all responsible for keeping the garden alive.
‘You can’t pick vegetables until they’re ready to be eaten, no matter how hungry you are,’ she said as she pushed seeds into the dirt with her bare finger. ‘And do you remember what you do after you pick them?’
‘Replace what you take so more can grow,’ said one of the girls.
Lyndal leaned down, touching her nose to the girl’s. ‘Clever girl.’ She straightened and l
ooked around. ‘Now, I need some muscle for this next part.’
A boy stepped forwards, around five years of age judging by his height. ‘I’m strong.’
‘Excellent,’ Lyndal said, handing him a pail. ‘I need some more water from the well.’
All the while, the queen mother watched on, her expression stoic and unreadable.
When it was time for the flag parade, the king mounted his horse, looking like he was about to ride off to war. The merchants moved to the main street in preparation.
‘Would you mind if I stayed here and finished the planting?’ Lyndal asked Queen Fayre. ‘It won’t take long.’
Fayre glanced over her shoulder at her son, then turned to Astin. ‘Take Lady Lyndal back to the castle as soon as she is done. Lady Kendra will accompany me.’
Lady Lyndal? Every merchant within hearing range looked in their direction, no doubt as surprised by the formal address as he was.
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Astin said.
‘When Queen Fayre was out of earshot, Lyndal leaned in and whispered, ‘Lady Lyndal? I’m glad the nobility weren’t present for that blasphemous address. They might have thrown rocks at me.’
Astin took a step back from her. ‘They’d have likely had their servants do it for them.’
‘What was that?’ she asked, angling her head.
‘What?’
She pointed to his feet. ‘That. Stepping back from me like I’m a leper.’
‘You’re covered in dirt and shit,’ he said.
She let out a noisy breath. ‘You’ve been in a foul mood all day.’
‘Are you gardening or chatting? You’ll have to return to the castle at some point, you know.’
The hurt in those jungle green eyes of hers made him want to take a fist to his own face. Bending, he picked up the small shovel and handed it to her. ‘Sorry.’