Defender of Hearts

by Tanya Bird

The next question had been at the front of her mind for the past few days. ‘The king… is he agreeable to all this?’

  Fayre looked up. ‘He trusts me.’

  ‘That’s not the same thing as being agreeable.’

  The queen let go of her bishop. ‘He wants to live a long life without looking over his shoulder all the time. He wants to be liked by his people.’ She placed the piece down. ‘He is agreeable.’

  Lyndal chewed her lip. ‘He was rather fond of Lady Kendra.’

  ‘Yes he was.’

  When Fayre did not expand on that, Lyndal said, ‘And you sent her away.’

  ‘She was a distraction.’

  ‘She was perfect for him.’

  Fayre was silent a moment. ‘It is true, she will make a wonderful wife. But what this kingdom needs is a queen.’

  ‘Why not Kendra?’

  Fayre reached for her cup, taking a sip of water before answering. ‘I think you know why. She can only relate to one portion of the population.’

  ‘That’s true of me also.’

  ‘Yes, but you can relate to the largest portion, and more importantly, they can relate to you.’ She tapped a finger on her cup. ‘In time, you will grow accustomed to a more privileged life. Then you will be able to relate to both.’

  Queen Fayre was dangling a crown in front of her, a crown she had no business reaching for. Three weeks, the queen mother had told her. Three weeks to get to know the king. Three weeks for him to get to know her. Three weeks to see if they could learn to work together and to gauge the temperature of the kingdom. All going well, Queen Fayre would announce their betrothal to the world.

  Lyndal would be Queen of Chadora.

  So she had spent three days making a list of everything she could do with a title like that. The almshouse was only the beginning.

  ‘You have more questions?’ Fayre made her next move.

  ‘I can barely fathom the life you’re offering, let alone think of intelligent questions.’

  The queen lifted her gaze. ‘So much of that life will depend on your resilience and commitment.’

  ‘Commitment to your son or to the role?’

  ‘They are the same thing. He is the reason the role exists at all.’

  Lyndal stared at the board, contemplating her next move. ‘What of his commitment? Taking a wife because you told him to is hardly a strong basis for a happy marriage.’ She took a chance and moved her king.

  ‘A happy marriage? Is that what you want?’

  Lyndal drew a breath. ‘That’s what every woman wants.’

  Queen Fayre watched her a moment. ‘I thought you wanted meaningful change in our kingdom.’

  ‘I do.’

  Fayre moved one of her pawns. ‘Check.’

  Lyndal stared at the chessboard. ‘I’ll never be as good as you.’

  ‘In chess or the other game you find yourself playing?’

  Lyndal looked up. ‘Both.’

  Queen Fayre folded her hands in her lap. ‘Give me until the end of the month. I can teach you both. I can even teach you how to handle my son. In time, and with the right woman at his side, he may grow into the man we all need him to become.’ She gestured to the board. ‘It is your turn.’

  Lyndal glanced up at the heavy clouds above, then moved her knight.

  Fayre moved her queen in response. ‘Checkmate.’

  ‘How surprising.’ Lyndal sat back, studying the massacre before her. ‘Would we grow to like each other? Is that how it works with arranged marriages?’

  Fayre pondered the question. ‘It is more important that you grow to trust one another and remember that you are playing for the same side.’

  Lyndal bit the inside of her cheek to stop from speaking.

  ‘Go on,’ the queen mother said. ‘You want to know if my husband and I were on the same side. Is that it?’

  Lyndal nodded.

  ‘We were for a long time.’

  Lyndal bit her lip, unsure how far to probe. ‘Until the day you left?’

  Fayre brushed invisible lint off her sleeve, not meeting Lyndal’s eyes for the first time. ‘Oswin was headed down a dangerous path. I could not in good conscience follow him, and I could not stop him. I thought it best to quietly remove myself.’ She finally lifted her gaze. ‘I suppose you think me a terrible mother for leaving my children behind.’

  Lyndal shook her head. ‘I don’t pretend to understand the workings of a monarchy, especially one in crisis.’

  ‘It would have been irresponsible for me to take the princes away. They are this kingdom’s future. The people needed to see them grow up here in order to trust them.’ She paused. ‘But I see now that I stayed away for too long. While I cannot change the past, I can do my best to steer Borin in a different direction than the one his father took.’

  They were both silent a moment.

  ‘Do you really think people will accept a merchant as their queen?’ Lyndal asked.

  ‘You are not only a merchant, are you? That is why this arrangement could work.’

  ‘But the nobility only see a merchant.’

  A nod. ‘It is true that you will need to win the nobility over.’

  ‘I have nothing to buy them with.’

  ‘You can only buy their cooperation, not their loyalty.’ Fayre’s expression turned serious. ‘You will need to watch your back over these coming weeks. News will spread of the courtship. Some will be unhappy about it.’

  The word ‘courtship’ burned her eardrums. She preferred ‘trial’. It sounded far less intimate.

  ‘It is not a bad thing,’ Queen Fayre continued. ‘It helps us know where we stand. If for some reason the arrangement does not work out, we will reduce the entire thing to rumour and part as friends.’

  That was the only reason Lyndal was even considering it—because she still had an out.

  Fayre studied her over the rim of her cup for a moment. ‘It was always you, you know. From that very first meeting. Lady Kendra was simply a means to you, the merchant girl with the enormous heart and impossibly high expectations.’

  Lyndal fought to keep her foot still, a nervous habit. ‘There’s still the matter of meat.’

  The queen mother laughed at that. ‘Let us take one thing at a time. Right now you must focus on winning over my son.’

  Lyndal’s eyebrows came together. ‘I thought you said he was agreeable.’

  ‘He is agreeable to my plans, not yours. You have your work cut out for you, so I suggest you use the next few weeks wisely.’

  The sound of approaching footsteps made Lyndal look over her shoulder. There was Astin, breathing heavy like he had come at a run. He glared in the direction of the defender standing by the wall, the one Lyndal had instructed not to fetch his superior because she feared he would talk her out of what she was about to agree to. Guilt hit her as their eyes met across the terrace. He had been there for her since the day she had arrived at Eldon Castle, despite their differences. And she had repaid him by shutting him out.

  ‘Good timing, Fletcher,’ Queen Fayre said, gesturing him closer as she rose from her chair.

  He appeared next the table, his hard stare on Lyndal as she stood also.

  ‘So we are in agreement,’ Fayre said, concluding their conversation. ‘Three weeks.’

  Lyndal’s mouth was dry, but she found herself nodding. ‘And if it doesn’t work out, we part as friends.’ She needed to hear that part again.

  Fayre only smiled. ‘I have complete faith in you.’ She turned to Astin. ‘Now, I thought perhaps you could take Lady Lyndal down to the butts. King Borin will be heading there shortly for practice, and I thought she might like to watch.’

  Astin bowed his head.

  It all felt a bit rushed suddenly, but time was ticking. If the queen mother thought applauding the king while he shot a few arrows was the best way to proceed, then she could do that.

  ‘Lady Lyndal and the king will be spending a lot of time together over the coming weeks. I am counting on
you to keep her safe during that time.’

  Lyndal lifted her eyes to gauge Astin’s reaction to that and met his hurricane stare. It seemed he was filling in the blanks well enough.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Are you ready, Lady Lyndal?’

  She fought the urge to be sick on the ground. ‘Yes.’ She curtsied before the queen mother.

  ‘Meet me here at the same time tomorrow,’ Fayre said. ‘One cannot improve their game without practice.’

  Lyndal nodded. ‘Very well.’ She avoided eye contact with Astin as she stepped past him.

  ‘Fletcher,’ Queen Fayre said behind her. ‘Guard her like you would a queen.’

  Chapter 18

  Astin walked a pace behind Lyndal down the corridor, trying to calm himself. Three days she had shut him out, ignored his requests to speak with her, accepted trays of food from the maid before closing the door in his face. He had been patient, despite a persistent urge to break the door down and shake the words from her.

  ‘Guard her like you would a queen,’ Fayre had instructed him.

  It was abundantly clear that the part Lyndal was to play was bigger than any of them could have fathomed. When she slowed her pace to walk beside him, he lengthened his stride, not ready to hear the words from her mouth.

  She emitted a large sigh before running to catch up with him. ‘So, I have news.’ She lifted her skirts higher so she did not trip in her efforts to keep up with him. ‘Can you slow down please?’

  ‘We don’t want to keep the king waiting.’

  Another sigh, her feet moving faster still. ‘Queen Fayre has it in her head that I could… that I could be queen. Isn’t that crazy?’

  He was practically jogging now.

  They exited the castle and headed for the steps that led down to the butts. He flew down them so fast, he was surprised she did not fall in her effort to keep up.

  ‘Can you stop a moment?’ she said at the bottom, out of breath.

  He did not stop.

  ‘Astin!’

  He spun around, forcing her to pull up fast. ‘It’s Fletcher. That’s how you’ll refer to me from now on. That’s how it works in this world you’re diving into.’

  She swallowed hard but kept her head high. ‘I thought we were past all the hostility and silly games. I thought we were friends.’

  ‘Is that why you ignored me for days on end, then went and made a life-changing decision without saying a word about it?’

  ‘I’m telling you now.’

  He crossed his arms, and she shrank back from him.

  ‘She’s luring you into a life of misery with a shiny crown and promises she can’t keep.’

  ‘She wants to help the merchants, and she knows I want the same thing.’

  ‘She knows you’re naive and can be easily manipulated.’

  Lyndal’s eyes widened. ‘She’s grooming me, I’ll give you that, but I need grooming for this to work.’

  He leaned in. ‘Can you hear yourself? She’s putting you in bed with her son, all the while whispering instructions in your ear.’

  Lyndal’s face fell. ‘It’s not like that.’

  ‘So what’s it like, then? Tell me. Are you not about to show up at the butts and be all charming and seductive, stroke the king’s ego, then something else later?’

  Her face fell, and he hated himself.

  ‘I’ve spent three days going over and over this in my mind, going crazy with indecision.’ Her words were breathy. ‘And for you to stand there and cheapen this situation…’

  She stepped back from him and looked like she might retreat to the castle. Instead, she set her jaw and marched ahead of him in the direction of the butts. He had no choice but to follow her. It was his job to protect her, and she needed his protection now more than ever. She would be a walking target the moment the nobility got whiff of this plan.

  ‘You’re discharged, defender,’ Lyndal said over her shoulder.

  He exhaled and caught up to her. ‘It doesn’t work like that, genius. You don’t have the authority to send me away.’

  She laughed, a short sharp noise. ‘Not yet.’ She looked up at him without slowing. ‘Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I just woke up this morning liking that man?’

  Rhetorical questions, so he did not reply.

  ‘Every time I look at him, I see a red-faced boy screaming “traitor” from atop the wall—and I want to claw his face apart.’ Her voice broke. ‘And we stood in that square, unarmed, just trying to keep each other alive for a moment longer.’

  ‘Stop walking,’ he said quietly.

  She marched on. ‘And I’ve been handed this opportunity to do something, to help, perhaps stop anything like that ever happening again.’

  Mud sucked at her boots, trapping one of her feet. She fell forwards as she tried to yank it free. He caught her with one hand and righted her, and they both fell silent. She was panting and clutching her skirts, eyes on the ground between them.

  ‘I have three weeks to see if this can even work,’ she finally said. ‘My family will lose their minds when they learn of this. The nobility will likely come after me with pitchforks.’ She lifted her eyes to him. ‘But I owe it to the merchants to at least try.’

  Rain began to fall, fat drops landing in place of the tears she was holding back.

  Astin reached out and tugged her hood up, then looked in the direction of the empty butts, wishing he could take back the things he had said to her. ‘Harlan will handle your family. I’ll handle the pitchforks.’

  Laughter came out on an exhale. ‘Thank you.’ She licked rain off her lips and glanced in the direction of the castle.

  ‘Still want to go to the butts?’ he asked.

  She brought her red hands to her mouth and blew into them. ‘I’m guessing the king will still practice if it’s raining?’

  ‘He will if he has an audience.’

  She took hold of her wet skirts once more. ‘Then I shall be his audience.’

  Thirty minutes they had been waiting in the rain for King Borin to grace them with his presence. Lyndal’s eyes kept returning to Astin, who was watching their surroundings with a serious expression. If someone did appear with a pitchfork, he looked ready.

  At least he was no longer angry at her.

  Her eyes went to the archery supplies that had been brought out in preparation for the king’s arrival. ‘Do you suppose I could have a turn while we wait?’

  Astin looked in her direction with a surprised expression. ‘Do you even know how to shoot?’

  ‘I’m a Suttone. What do you think?’

  The bodyguard wandered over and collected the long bow and a handful of arrows. ‘If the king shows up, we were under attack.’

  ‘Got it.’ She blew into her icy hands, trying to get some blood circulation happening, then took the bow from him. He handed her one of the arrows and watched her load it. ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘And here come the excuses.’

  She pressed her lips together to stop from smiling, then took aim at the mound at the far end of the muddy lawn. Upon release, she winced. It had made the distance but missed the target completely.

  Astin chuckled behind her.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘So I’m a little out of practice.’

  He stepped up and handed her another arrow. ‘A little? Did you notice the targets at the end?’

  With a roll of her eyes, she loaded the bow and took aim once more.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, moving behind her. He hooked two fingers under her elbow, lifting. ‘Don’t let it drop.’ His other hand went around her to the riser, adjusting her grip.

  She watched his callused hand move over hers, hoping he did not notice the change in her breath at him being so close. She released the arrow, this time grazing the edge of the target.

  ‘Better,’ he said, arms falling away.

  She turned. ‘I would be much better if my hands were warm.’

  ‘Really?’ Taking the bow fr
om her, he placed it on the ground and took both her hands in his. ‘Let’s test that theory, shall we?’

  He rubbed her hands between his rough ones for a full minute, then brought them to his mouth. Warm breath engulfed her skin, making goosebumps break out on her arms.

  ‘Try now,’ he said, letting go and picking up the bow for her.

  Her cheeks were hot against the rain as she met his turbulent stare. She had always read that expression as annoyance, inconvenience, impatience. But none of those things fit with the situation they found themselves in.

  ‘I was hoping the rain might ease,’ the king called to them.

  Lyndal jumped, and Astin stepped back. Thankfully, he still had hold of the bow.

  ‘Goodness,’ Borin said, stopping in front of Lyndal. Two defenders flanked him. ‘You look like a drowned rat.’

  Lyndal forced a smile. ‘The downside of being punctual, Your Majesty.’

  His gaze went to the bow in Astin’s hands. ‘I see Fletcher has been showing you a thing or two.’ He clapped the defender on the back as he took the weapon from him. ‘It is a lot more difficult than it seems.’

  Astin moved aside.

  It was strange to be in someone’s company for less than a minute and feel done, but there she was, already wishing her time with the king was over. ‘I look forward to seeing what you can do.’

  He clicked his fingers, like one does when gaining the attention of a dog, and held out his hand. Lyndal blinked in confusion.

  ‘Arrow,’ he said, his tone impatient.

  Oh. He meant for her to fetch one for him. Slowly, she picked up one of the arrows lying by his feet, handed it to him, then moved aside. Borin loaded the weapon, aimed, and released, hitting the target’s edge.

  ‘Bow must need aligning,’ he said, clicking for another arrow.

  Lyndal had never felt more like a merchant as she stepped forwards again to do his bidding.

  The king reloaded the bow and took another shot, which was only slightly better than his last effort. ‘The rain,’ he explained, gesturing overhead. ‘Would you care to have a try?’

  That seemed like progress—unless he drove the arrow through her neck at the last minute.

  She took the bow, and he moved behind her as Astin had done. Arms went either side of her as he positioned her hands. He was not gentle—nor was he warm. The overpowering scent of perfume choked her, a contrast to Astin’s earthy scent, a scent she found herself leaning into.