Defender of Hearts

by Tanya Bird

  He exhaled. ‘I’m sure she wishes she could.’

  Lyndal scrunched her nose up when her eyes began to burn. ‘You must be exhausted from following me around all day.’

  ‘I can stay awhile if you want me to.’

  ‘I’m fine. Go get some sleep.’

  ‘I’ll collect you in the morning,’ Astin said, glancing off down the corridor. ‘Duck shooting with the king, I believe.’

  She paused halfway inside the door. ‘Where do these mystical ducks live? Certainly nowhere near the merchant borough or port.’

  ‘They live in crates, greatly inhibiting their ability to fly. The king prefers them that way.’

  ‘Of course he does.’ She leaned against the door. ‘Well, goodnight, Your Superiorship.’

  He bowed his head. ‘Goodnight, Lady Lyndal the third.’

  Lyndal woke in the night with a sharp cough, eyes snapping open at the bitter taste in her mouth. Sitting upright, she looked around the bedchamber, blinking hard. She could not see more than a foot in front of her. Coughing ensued, the air utterly unbreathable.

  Smoke.

  The room was full of it.

  Pushing back her blankets, Lyndal leapt from the bed and headed for the door, arms outstretched in front of her. She felt around for the doorknob, frame, anything familiar to get her bearings. The darkness was not helping matters. Finally, she felt the smooth wood of the door beneath her fingers and reached for the handle. She turned it, but the door did not budge. She grabbed hold of it with both hands and yanked as hard as she could. When it did not open, she pounded on it with a fist.

  ‘Open the door!’

  The door was never locked. And where was the defender who patrolled the corridor overnight?

  She coughed, gagged, her eyes burning and vision blurring. She made her way over to the solar door. Pulling it open, she immediately slammed it shut again when she saw the furniture engulfed by flames, reaching all the way to the ceiling.

  Her mind raced.

  The window.

  She ran to it, tripping over a stool and landing on hands and knees. She crawled the rest of the way, feeling her way along the outer-wall. Coughing and crying, she rose and fumbled with the shutters before tearing them open. She pressed her face to the iron bars, but the air was no cleaner. Smoke poured out of the window, making it impossible to breathe.

  ‘Help me!’ She screamed the words as loudly as she could, but they dissipated in the smoke.

  She moved to the bottom corner of the window, daring a look in the direction of the solar. The door glowed red now, but she knew the smoke would kill her before the flames did.

  Back on hands and knees, she crawled to the bed and grabbed the woollen blanket from atop it. She dragged it to the door, jamming it in the gap at the bottom. The smoke still seeped through the top and sides though. By the time she got back to the window, she did not have the energy to stand. She lay flat on the floor, eyes pressed shut and hand over her mouth as if that might somehow filter the smoke.

  So this was how she would die.

  Not surrounded by people who loved her as she had imagined so many times during the lockdown, when death had hung over their house like a heavy cloud. Instead, she would be alone. The other people in the castle would not grieve but they would be inconvenienced by the disruption to their plans.

  And what of her own plans? Her terrible drawings that Astin made fun of? They were now ashes.

  A loud bang shook the room, and Lyndal opened her eyes, expecting to see flames.

  ‘Lyndal!’

  Astin.

  She would recognise his voice anywhere.

  Here, she yelled, then realised it was only in her head.

  Her eyes sank shut, and she heard the pounding of boots through the floor. Then he was beside her, lifting her, telling her to hold on. She wanted to hold on, but she was no more than a rag doll in his arms. He clutched her head to his thudding chest as they fled the bedchamber.

  A flurry of servants and maids passed pails of water in the corridor, dousing the flames in the solar. Astin flew by them, down the stairs, and out into the clean air of the fountain court. The sudden change seemed to prompt her lungs to start working again. Coughing resumed in violent fits.

  ‘That’s it,’ Astin said, sitting her on the ground. He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her.

  Her head pounded, and her nose and eyes ran. She struggled to move her arms.

  He pressed two fingers to her neck. ‘Your heart is racing.’ When he sat her up, she slumped forwards again. His large palm spanned the width of her collarbone, holding her steady. He lowered his forehead to hers. ‘You’re all right. Cough. Throw up. Cry. Do whatever you need to—just breathe.’

  She wanted to lie down, but he kept her firmly upright.

  ‘I need to wash your eyes out,’ he said, carrying her to the fountain. ‘And get some water into you.’

  She nodded, barely, as he placed her on the edge of the fountain. He scooped up water with his spare hand and angled her head, splashing it into her eyes, all while she continued to cough.

  ‘Blink for me,’ he said. ‘That’s it.’

  After cleaning her eyes, he gathered more water and brought it to her mouth. She drank greedily, the cold soothing her aching throat.

  ‘You gave me a fright,’ he said.

  She tipped her head up to look at him. ‘The door was locked.’ Her words were so hoarse she did not recognise her own voice.

  He brushed tears from her cheek with his enormous thumb. ‘The defender on duty is going to have no skin left on that back of his by the time I’m through flogging him.’

  She rested her head against him, eyes closing. ‘Thank you.’

  He did not reply.

  Boots sounded beneath the archway, and a few seconds later, the warden appeared in front of them, eyes moving over Lyndal.

  ‘Everybody all right?’

  Astin stood, keeping one hand on her shoulder to ensure she did not fall. ‘She’ll need a physician, sir.’ He paused. ‘The door was locked when I arrived—from the outside.’

  Shapur’s jaw ticked. ‘I will send for the physician. Take her to the queen mother’s quarters. Her Majesty is expecting you.’

  Lyndal looked up, no longer afraid of him as she had once been. She had gotten to know him since the wedding—as well as one could know a closed-off man. She had managed to win him over one meal at a time.

  She rose on unsteady legs, Astin keeping a firm hold of her.

  ‘Shall I send word to your family?’ the warden asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Not unless you want a riot at the gate.’ A violent cough followed.

  Astin held her steady.

  ‘I’m feeling much better,’ she assured him, willing her knees to hold. She took a dizzy step, her heart pounding in her ears.

  ‘Hold on to me if you want to be spared the embarrassment of being carried,’ Astin said.

  She took hold of his arm, and they slowly made their way to the queen’s quarters.

  Fayre was watching the fireplace when they arrived, playing with the ends of her long plait that fell down one shoulder. She turned as they entered, her eyes moving over Lyndal. ‘Dear God.’ She walked over and cupped a hand to Lyndal’s burning cheek, her lavish red heraldic gown slipping down her arm. ‘My maids are making up a room for you. They are filling a tub as we speak. No one is to enter your bedchamber without Fletcher’s approval. You will have my personal maids at your service. They will be the only people allowed near you until we figure out what happened.’ She hooked a finger beneath Lyndal’s chin, lifting it. ‘You keep that head high if you hope to balance a crown upon it.’

  Lyndal swallowed.

  ‘Warden,’ Fayre said, turning to him, ‘I am trusting you to handle this.’

  He bowed his head. ‘I recommend all food be tasted prior to consumption in the interim.’

  A food taster seemed a tad dramatic. But then if someone was prepared to burn her to de
ath, poison was not such a stretch.

  ‘Fletcher,’ the queen mother continued, ‘I will leave it to you to hand select a guard for night duty, given the current one was clearly not up to the job. Has he been found?’

  ‘My men are on it,’ Shapur said. ‘Shall I rouse the king?’

  Fayre shook her head. ‘I shall update him in the morning. You know how he gets when his sleep is disturbed.’

  Lyndal looked down at her bare, blackened feet. The castle was still on fire, and no one wanted to tell the king for fear of waking him. What sort of king could not cope with a crisis without a full night’s rest first?

  ‘I imagine Lady Lyndal would prefer to see him after she has cleaned up,’ the queen mother added.

  Lyndal’s appearance was the last thing on her mind, but she nodded in agreement. The mere thought of dealing with him was too much.

  Shapur bowed. ‘Your Majesty.’

  He left, passing a maid in the doorway on his way out. The older woman stepped aside, then made her way over to Lyndal, offering a warm smile.

  ‘Goodness, my lady. You’re ashes and soot, head to toe. Let’s get you cleaned up so the physician can take a look at you.’

  Lyndal had not realised how tightly she was holding Astin’s arm until the woman tried to pull her away. She did not want to let go.

  ‘I’ll be outside your bedchamber soon,’ Astin said, as though reading her mind. ‘Go. She’ll take care of you.’

  She forced herself to let go.

  ‘I’ve got you,’ the maid said lightly. ‘Come along.’

  Lyndal’s eyes remained on Astin as she was led away. Only when they stepped out into the smoke-hazed corridor did she look away.

  Chapter 21

  ‘Stop before you collapse,’ Harlan called to Astin. ‘I’m not carrying you inside.’

  Astin leaned on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Since sleep continued to elude him, he had opted for laps of the training yard instead.

  ‘What exactly are we running from?’ Harlan asked, walking over to him.

  He was trying to run off his anger after someone had locked Lyndal in a smoke-filled room two nights earlier. It was also possible he was running from other feelings, feelings that seemed to be multiplying each time he laid eyes on her. ‘I’m just doing my hours.’

  ‘She’s alive,’ Harlan said, seeing through the lie. ‘You did your job.’

  He straightened. ‘If you had seen her when I found her, you would know how close I came to losing her.’

  Harlan looked in the direction of the castle. ‘I hear the defender on duty was dragged naked from a bed in the servants’ quarters. Must have been having a real good time.’

  ‘He swears he never locked that door.’

  ‘You think he’s telling the truth?’

  Astin threw his hands up. ‘There’s no motive. Plus it doesn’t make sense that he would set the castle on fire and then stay there, knowing he would either burn to death or be caught.’

  All they had was a defender scratching an itch and a maid who claimed the fireplace in the solar was down to embers when she checked on it before retiring.

  But someone locked that door.

  ‘Thanks for loaning me Thornton,’ Astin said. ‘I need someone trustworthy who’ll remain at his post.’

  ‘He should have waited until he was off duty, like you do.’

  Astin did not even register his words. ‘I was hoping the fire might be enough to scare her home, but Queen Fayre’s still whispering promises into her ear.’

  ‘Wow.’ Harlan watched him a moment. ‘No pithy comeback? This is worse than I thought.’

  Astin squinted in his direction. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘This is real. You have genuine feelings for Lyndal, and I’m at a loss at what to think about it.’

  Astin ran a hand down his face, not bothering to deny it.

  ‘And now she’s going to marry the king.’ Harlan tutted. ‘That’s quite the mess you find yourself in.’

  Astin paced a few steps, then stopped. ‘Let’s say you’re right. Say an attachment has formed. What do I do? How do I sever it?’

  Harlan clapped him on the back. ‘You’re asking the wrong man. In my experience, it can’t be done.’

  Astin closed his eyes and exhaled. ‘This is going to end badly.’

  ‘Have you told her how you feel? It might be mutual.’

  ‘God, listen to you. No, I haven’t fallen at her feet and sung of my undying love.’

  Harlan’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Is that how you think it’s done?’

  ‘And it makes no difference if it’s mutual. If she’s prepared to sacrifice her family for this noble cause of hers, I’m irrelevant.’ His eyes went to the tower, which was alive with activity. ‘Do I want to know what’s going on over there?’

  Harlan leaned his weight on one foot. ‘Riot in the merchant borough this morning. Tenth day straight with no meat or eggs at the market. Fifty-plus merchants locked up.’

  Astin swore under his breath. ‘I’m surprised they have the energy to riot. They should be applauded, not locked up.’

  ‘King’s orders. Even my father disagreed.’

  ‘Then I should go have a wash,’ Astin said, wiping sweat from his face. ‘Lyndal’s with him on the stone court porch as we speak. If there’s been a riot, he’ll be in a mood.’

  ‘Don’t you mean Lady Lyndal?’

  Astin shook his head. ‘I’ll throw your arse to the ground in front of the recruits if you push me to it.’

  Harlan only grinned. ‘Send Thornton to me.’

  ‘I hope you’re going to let him sleep.’

  ‘Yes. After he’s trained.’

  Astin mock saluted him. ‘Yes, sir.’

  Astin heard their argument before he saw it. Lyndal and King Borin were standing by the north wall, the king gesturing wildly while she clutched the skirt of her dress.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Astin whispered to Roul when he entered the court.

  The defender glanced sideways at him. ‘She wants the prisoners released. Apparently the butchers were promised a supply yesterday. Now the king is saying it’ll be at least another two weeks.’

  ‘Half won’t survive another two weeks.’

  Thornton nodded. ‘That’s what she’s telling him. And she’s really telling him.’

  Astin exhaled. ‘She sleep last night?’

  ‘Nope. She came out twice asking if I could smell smoke, and she won’t let the maid light the fire in her room.’

  Astin squinted in her direction, listening.

  ‘They’re allowed to feel angry,’ Lyndal said, letting go of her skirt. ‘Those people are living moment to moment, and every day no meat arrives brings them another day closer to death.’

  As tempting as it was to intervene, Astin knew there were no grounds for it. ‘You go,’ he told Thornton. ‘Commander Wright’s waiting for you in the training yard.’

  Roul nodded, then quietly stepped out.

  Queen Fayre appeared a moment later, striding towards the pair with a concerned expression. ‘What on earth is going on here? I can hear all the way inside.’

  Borin turned in a circle, attempting to calm himself. ‘I will tell you what is going on. Because of you, I have a merchant telling me how to run my kingdom.’

  Lyndal shook her head, her green eyes ablaze. ‘It doesn’t make sense. I’ve done the math.’

  Borin jabbed a finger at her face. ‘This is not your concern.’

  That was enough for Astin. He walked over to them, positioning himself in front of Lyndal. ‘Hand down, Your Majesty.’

  Borin’s eyes widened, and his mouth twisted. ‘Is this a joke? I am your king.’

  ‘And Lady Lyndal is the job I was assigned. My orders were to protect her as I would a queen, so hand down, Your Majesty. Then I’ll move aside.’ He kept his voice calm.

  Borin sniffed and retreated to his mother’s side. Then Astin stepped back.

  ‘Let us
all take a breath. I gather this is about this morning’s riot?’ Queen Fayre asked, looking to Lyndal.

  ‘We were in the farming borough just a few days ago,’ Lyndal said. ‘Every farm we visited reported higher yields and a decrease in mortality rates year on year. Yet the merchants are getting the same amount of meat as two years prior—which is none.’

  The queen mother’s eyes shone with something resembling pride. ‘You really have been paying attention.’

  ‘It is not simple math,’ Borin snapped. ‘The needs of the merchants have to be balanced with the needs of other boroughs. The nobility require meat also.’

  Lyndal stared in disbelief. ‘Yes, I know all about their needs. While the nobility are always complaining about something, I assure you it’s not the lack of meat.’

  ‘The farmers were supposed to deliver carcasses to the butchers yesterday,’ Fayre said to her son. ‘Why the delay?’

  Borin shifted his weight and looked away, which Astin knew meant whatever came out of his mouth next would be a lie.

  ‘The heifers and ewes are to be kept for breeding. That is how one grows a herd.’

  Lyndal blinked in confusion. ‘There must have been some males among them.’

  Borin turned to his mother. ‘Do you see the lack of respect? How is this to work when she questions me so?’

  Fayre placed a calming hand on his arm. ‘Lady Lyndal is still recovering from a very traumatic experience. Her mind is likely still impaired from the smoke.’ She looked to Lyndal for confirmation.

  Lyndal exhaled. ‘Yes. Forgive me, Your Majesty. I’m in need of rest.’ Her tone lacked any conviction, though the dark circles enclosing her eyes did support the lie.

  ‘So we are done with this conversation now?’ Borin asked. ‘I am a busy man.’

  Lyndal went to the king and took his hand. Astin felt a pull of jealousy at the intimate gesture. God help him if she did make it to his bed while he was forced to stand guard outside.

  ‘Please,’ she begged, ‘let the people locked in that tower go home. Don’t punish them for being hungry.’

  Borin pulled his hand free. ‘They are criminals. They took axes to the wall that my father built.’