by N M Zoltack
“I’ll show you what matters!” Vivian lifted the skirt of her gown and gave chase, but Noll, in his pants, was able to have much longer strides.
Rosalynne just watched and laughed as her siblings chased each other. She didn’t even care to look at the finished works. All she wanted was to enjoy the warm sunshine and the company of her family.
38
Queen Sabine Grantham
Sabine walked along the hallway from her room and down the stairs to where her mother was staying. Since the wedding, her mother had moved into the castle as well.
It had been some time since Sabine had last spoken to her mother. Sabine was so very busy trying to hold the royal family together. The princesses hardly spoke to each other let alone to her. Prince Noll was always off with his puppy somewhere. As for the king, he was withdrawn and moody. He hardly ever seemed happy with Sabine, but so long as she was queen, she had nothing to fear.
Since the royal family was not cooperating, Sabine decided to see her family. With the royals, she still felt as if she were an outcast, and that was not a feeling that she particularly enjoyed. Not at all.
She knocked on the door and immediately opened it.
“Don’t you know you should wait until told to come in to… Sabine. I did not realize it was you.” Her mother rose from her seat beside the window, crossed over to Sabine, and kissed her cheek. “You look lovely, my dear.”
“Thank you.” Sabine glided into the room. “Would you please shut the door?”
Her mother frowned, no doubt wondering why Sabine hadn’t shut the door. Nonetheless, her mother complied.
“How is the king?” the queen asked. “Is he still mourning his son?”
“Mourning.” Sabine rolled her eyes. “He is in mourning but not over his son as his only son still breathes.”
Her mother lifted her eyebrows. “Bates was not the king’s. Interesting. I suspected that all along.”
“As did I. It amazes me that the king was able to get his first wife pregnant once, let alone three times.”
“He did not always look as he does now,” her mother murmured. “Do not let appearances fool you. Be very careful, Sabine. I fear that you may find yourself in danger soon.”
“Why?” Sabine asked although she had already planned on being wary. She knew that politics was a game, and she had always strived to come out on top. That was why she had not gone to any of the balls. She had not wished to be lost in a sea of other faces. Instead, she and her mother had come alone to see the king, and that had surely assisted her in securing the queendom.
“The king is a powerful man, even if he does hardly leave his room. I have heard rumors that he wanted to kill Aldith, and now, we know why. She had cheated on him. She was so damn foolish. I can hardly believe how foolish she had been!”
“I am no fool,” Sabine said.
Already, her mind was churning. If the king were to die soon, very soon, then Rosalynne would be too young to be queen yet. Would Sabine then be first in line to rule? Most likely only until Rosalynne married and had an heir of her own. Still, if Sabine could be the true leader of Tenoch Proper if only for a few years, that would be wonderful. Could that possibly happen though? The king’s health did seem to be in decline, but she would need him to die and die quickly. Otherwise, Rosalynne would continue to grow older and advance toward the crown herself.
Not that Sabine wished the king dead. Not truly. At times, she could see flashes of the man he must have been before death devastated him. Those flashes endeared him to her, but she had also witnessed his rage. His anger. His wrath. The king was not a man to be crossed. Sabine had no doubt that if she were to cheat on him, he would not hesitate to have her killed should he discover the betrayal.
Not that I would be foolish enough to get caught. She smiled smugly. Then again, there was no man that she wished to be with and betray the king. That was not Sabine’s way. When she gave her word, she meant it.
“You mentioned that the king is in mourning. For who?” her mother asked.
“His first wife.”
“She has been dead for over a decade now! A decade and a half!” Her mother shook her head and began to pace. “I do not understand how he could be so distraught over one woman.”
“He loved her.”
“Love. I loved your father, but you do not see me weeping over him, do you? No. Because he has died, and I still live.”
“The king has died,” Sabine said.
“So it seems.” Her mother snorted. “When you are the ruling queen, you must see to it that I am given a larger room. These quarters are rather crammed.”
Sabine glanced around the room. The space was far larger than the one where they had lived previously, and that house had been far grander than most peasants. Of course, they were not peasants themselves. After her father died, her mother went on to marry a nobleman. He had died too, and they had lived on in his house until they moved to the castle.
“Of course,” Sabine murmured.
“And the guards. They practice their sword fighting far too early in the morning. They should practice later in the day and without their armor.”
“Without their… Why, Mother?” she asked, confused.
Already, she disagreed with her mother about the timing. The guards needed to train in the morning early on before they were needed at their posts. Also, in the summer, they could not possibly train while the sun was at her height for fear that they would succumb to heat sickness.
“So that I can see their muscles covered in sweat,” her mother said with a terrible grin.
Sabine sighed. “We shall see,” she said slowly.
Her mother then went on to talk about far more important matters that the ruling queen actually would need to address. Sabine did not understand why. She would not be the ruling queen, or if she were to be, it would not be for very long at all. The king truly did not see her as near any level remotely similar to his, or else he would have had her in the royal family portrait. She supposed that one day, she might convince him to add her as his was still being added. Yes, that might do. She would leave her mark on Atlan Castle at the very least.
39
Rase Ainsley
Rase remained on the nearby hill, staring at the magnificent manor belonging to the Snells. How many rooms could be in such a large building? How many servants worked for them? If their manor was so vast, just how massive was the castle?
Maybe Rase would one day seek out the castle just so he could see it in person. For right now, though, he needed to see if Maxene had been staying here.
Just then, the door opened, and out tumbled a young man and a young woman. Rase was too far away to recognize either, not that he would recognize any of the Snells. The two talked for a moment, and then the man headed to the stables. A few minutes later, he was riding away at a leisurely pace.
The woman, however, remained behind, standing by the door, watching the man and the horse so intently that she didn’t notice Rase approach until he cleared his throat.
She jumped, her hand flying to her chest, her other hand gripping her head. Her dark blond hair covered her face. “Rase?”
“Maxene.” Rase grinned and suppressed the urge to hug her. “You’re okay!”
“Of course I am,” Maxene said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Leanne’s been so worried about you that she can hardly eat,” Rase explained.
Maxene’s hand on her chest lowered to her side, but the other one still clutched her head. “I never meant to worry her,” she murmured.
“You’ve been a terrible friend,” Rase said bluntly.
Maxene glowered at him and then winced. “I… I’m not quite myself. I was… I can’t even remember why I was near the house, this house, but then something hard hit my head. A flowerpot. When I next opened my eyes, Radcliff was standing over me.”
“Radcliff?” Rase repeated, lifting his eyebrows. “Who is that?”
“Oh.” Maxene’s cheeks tu
rned a pretty shade of red. Well, he assumed both did even though he could only see the one cheek since her hair covered the second. “Lord Radcliff. The earl’s son. He just rode off.”
“Why? Why didn’t you ride with him?”
“Silly,” Maxene said gently. “I can’t ride. I’m prone to dizzy spells now. Sometimes, I can’t even walk. That’s why I’m still here, why I’m staying here. The Snells have been so kind and generous to me, especially Radcliff. Lord Radcliff.”
Rase nodded slowly. “And he went off to…”
“To go to market to buy herbs or else maybe to go to an apothecary to fetch an elixir. My head is starting to ache again. That happens from time to time. On a few occasions, I can’t even see properly.”
“That sounds terrifying,” Rase mumbled.
“It is,” Maxene said solemnly. “Please, do tell Leane that I am sorry I never sent her word, but I am fine. Or, rather, I will be fine.”
“Lord Radcliff will see to it,” Rase said mockingly.
“Precisely.” Maxene beamed and then winced. “I should go lie down.”
“Of course,” Rase muttered.
He stepped back even though he wasn’t in her way. She waved and ducked inside the manor, shutting the door behind her.
Rase stood there a long moment. He didn’t know who that was he had just talked to. The Maxene he knew didn’t talk like that, like a noblewoman. She wasn’t acting like herself.
Which made Rase nervous. Very nervous. While it seemed to be a good and decent thing that Maxene was staying with the Snells until she recovered, Rase wasn’t so sure this was such a good idea.
More than a little worried, Rase lingered out of sight. Lord Radcliff returned shortly thereafter with a box far larger than one would require of an elixir or herbs. Even though a servant should have opened the door for him, Maxene greeted him, and he handed her the box. Maybe Rase was worried over nothing. He knew how Leanne would imagine things, that the lord would fall in love with Maxene as he helped her back to health, that the two would marry, that Maxene would one day become the wife of an earl. What would that make Maxene? Rase couldn’t recall the term. Baron and baroness, duke and duchess, earl and…
Well, it didn’t really matter what the proper term was. It might never come to pass.
Maybe everything with Linton was making Rase too cautious, but he didn’t trust barons or their sons. Maybe earls and their sons were better.
Rase made his way back home. It was nearly nighttime, and Leanne and his parents were already sleeping. Not wishing to disturb them, he climbed onto the roof. Things weren’t exactly perfect, and he didn’t know if or when life would turn around for them so they could start to live more like peasants instead of paupers.
Still, his pa was right. Home was family, and he still had his. Rase’s injury had helped to distract Leanne enough that she was eating and sleeping more regularly. The darkness beneath her eyes wasn’t quite so black anymore. She wasn’t smiling, but then again, Leanne never smiled. Rase didn’t either.
Their ma, though, was a little more since Pa was starting to bring home little bits of food every few days. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
That was all they had for now—a start and perhaps a new beginning. Because Rase had gotten himself a job, even if only short-lived, maybe he could find a second job elsewhere especially since he had finally found Maxene.
Rase actually fell asleep with a slight curl to his lips that night.
40
Sir Edmund Hill
Excitement made Edmund’s blood almost sing as he woke the morning of the first day of the tournament. There had been others throughout his training to be a knight, but Edmund had not opted to partake. When he had been elevated from a page to a squire, he had assisted his master knight, suiting him in armor and handing him his lances and spears and such. This day, though, Edmund would be the one to suit up.
“I don’t know why you’re bothering to,” Jurian commented as he watched Edmund sharpen his sword.
“Just as well because I don’t understand why you aren’t,” Edmund retorted.
“I know I’m not the best. I’m fine with that. Besides, this face isn’t one that’s meant to be scarred.” Jurian stroked his chin as he turned his face from side to side.
Edmund rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think ladies would find a scar attractive? Or are you only worried about the peasant girls yet?”
“At least I’m mindful of girls at all,” Jurian retorted. “But then that brings me back to why I think you shouldn’t be in the tournament. You should be finding a way to kill that girl of your brother’s.”
“Tatum?” Edmund asked. “I told you. She’s not—”
“I know what you said,” Jurian said crossly, “but do you think she’s an idiot? No. She knew you were watching her. Of course she wouldn’t do anything suspicious then!”
“You have trust issues,” Edmund said lightly.
“You’re too gullible. Must run in the family. Your brother is ignorant, and you’re just as bad as he is.”
“Without proof of—”
“You’ve stopped looking.”
“Not entirely true.”
“Not entirely.” Jurian scowled. “After she’s killed your brother and then you, I’ll have to be the one to ram her through.”
“If she does that, you have my permission,” Edmund said. “Although I think you would most likely turn tail and run the other way.”
“I would not!” Jurian protested.
Edmund smirked. “Only because you don’t have a tail.”
Jurian shrugged, lifted his hands, and laughed. “Perhaps. I just am worried.”
“And I’m touched. I didn’t think you had a heart.”
“I have a heart for toads.” Jurian winked. “If you’re gonna fight, fight well and with honor. Don’t maim anyone.”
“I do know how to spar,” Edmund said dryly.
“Yes, but while I’ve never fought in one before, I’ve seen a few tournaments, and it’s always the same. Someone is overcome by bloodlust and hurts or even kills another. Don’t let that happen to you.”
“You do care.”
“I just don’t want someone else sleeping in the bed next to mine. Some of the men have night terrors and wake up screaming. I don’t know what frightens them so badly, but I’d rather hear your mumbling. You’re entertaining at least.”
“I’m glad I can amuse you,” Edmund muttered.
The knight reached over and clapped Edmund on the back. “Go on. Get ready. I might even cheer for you if you make it past the first round.”
“You’ll definitely be cheering for me then.”
“Oh, ho, someone’s arrogant.”
“Have to be if you’re going to enter a ring and fight your fellow knights for the chance of praise, honor, and glory.”
“And gold and perhaps the hand of the fair Rosalynne.”
Edmund shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“No? Why not? Are you afraid she’s a secret alchemist too?”
Edmund threw the whetstone at Jurian. Only a handful of the guards had entered, but a fair number of knights from Atlan and all of Tenoch would be there. Edmund had no illusions that he would win, but this was another chance to prove himself as a knight, and he would not pass that up. His goal was to impress the man-at-arms or even Princess Rosalynne enough that he could ask and be granted a new assignment elsewhere. Yes, that would mean that he could no longer keep watch on Tatum, and he might not even be able to return for the wedding, should his brother and the alchemist marry depending on where Edmund might be sent. That thought bothered him more than he cared to admit, and Edmund offered up a silently prayer to the Fate of Life that whatever outcome resulted from today’s efforts be for the betterment of his own life and that of his brother’s and even Tatum’s as well.
Shortly thereafter, Edmund stared at the listing of the first matchups in horror. The man-at-arms in charge of the pairings for the ro
unds that day was one of the tutors who had turned a blind eye toward the ridicule Edmund had faced while a page. Now, that same man-at-arms had paired Edmund to face off against one of his torments, Sir Cynbel Macangus.
While a tournament was to be an event to show off prowess and practice, there could be little doubt that Cynbel would be nothing short of hostile in his attack. All weapons were supposed to be blunted during tournament play, but Edmund wouldn’t put it past Cynbel to sneak in a pointed blade.
First, though, there was to be several melees, group attacks. While they would not help to clear the field initially, seeing so many men attack each other always thrilled the onlookers.
As he was only a guard, Edmund didn’t have a squire. It wasn’t the easiest to put on his full suit of armor by himself with all of the straps that had to be fashioned, but Edmund was long used to this annoyance.
Given that his surname was Hill, Edmund’s color was naturally the bright green of the grass after a summer’s warm rain. His pauldrons and poleyn’s had been painted that particular shade. Most of the notable noble families had family crests that were painted on some of the knight’s breastplates and certainly on their shields. Edmund had no family crest, and as he lined up to be brought to the center of the tournament field to be introduced along with the other tournament glory seekers, he winced. His shield was one of the only ones to have no paint adorning it.
That matters not. I have my shield. That is enough for me.
Once the herald announced his name, Edmund stepped forward, lifted his shield, and bowed low. The splattering of applause was weak and pathetic compared to some of the other well-known knights, but Edmund didn’t mind. He would do his best as he had always done. He had come so much further in achieving his goals than anyone had ever thought possible—well, anyone other than himself. Edmund never doubted himself.
Men-at-arms were the ones directing the flow of the knights, and Edmund was shunted off to the side. Three bouts of melees went on before Edmund had to mount out and canter onto the field into position. A blue scrap of cloth had been tied to his armored elbow to denote him a member of the blue party. They were squaring off against the red horde.