The King's Assassin

by M.M. Brownlow

  Chapter 4

  The carriage bounced along the bumpy dirt road in the early morning light, throwing Aislynn around as she tried to dress. Marja had spent the past days horrified that Aislynn had been riding around wearing pants, totally uncaring about how she appeared before the men in their escort. Aislynn knew that the guards were more than used to women like her and she didn’t really care what they thought anyway, so she hadn’t thought twice about it.

  When Aislynn had planned to continue wearing her usual apparel today, Marja had thrown a hysterical fit. Today, after what Aislynn considered to be five grueling days of boring travel, they were finally going to meet up with the escort from Bacovia, and Marja, at least, was determined that Aislynn would look the part of a royal princess when they got there. Since her father had sent Marja along to “help her fit in”, Aislynn figured that she should at least try to make herself presentable, hence the current, rather uncomfortable situation.

  With the pale green dress finally over her head, Aislynn struggled to make it sit properly across her shoulders, cursing under her breath. She was not a fan of the current fashions, with tight bodice and sleeves, and the skirt hugging her hips before dropping straight to the ground. Even though the divided skirt was designed specifically for riding, she still felt constricted and unable to move freely, and she groaned as she turned her back to Marja so that her friend could lace the dress tightly up the back. As she turned, she caught a glance of Cheta loping along beside the carriage, and she swore the wolf was laughing at her!

  “You’re next, you fleabag,” Aislynn snarled. “We should dunk you in the river, clean you all up, and tie a ribbon around your neck for good measure.”

  Cheta didn't look at all frightened by the threat and just kept her wolfy grin as she jogged along, tongue lolling.

  “Turn around and let me look at you,” Marja demanded when she finished tying the laces. She looked Aislynn up and down, appraising her appearance, and she sighed in disgust. “There must be something we can do with your hair.”

  “First my clothing, and now my hair,” Aislynn complained, rolling her eyes. “What, exactly, is wrong with my hair?”

  “Aside from the fact that it has been in that braid every day since we left? There are more hairstyles in the world, you know.” Marja sighed again, shaking her head in disbelief and making her perfect curls bounce around her shoulders, not understanding why Aislynn didn't care about her appearance at all.

  Marja reached into a small box that was sitting on the seat beside her and started sorting through accessories, looking for something that matched the dress. “You really are quite something, Aislynn,” she commented.

  “Well whatever you do, just make sure you don’t do something that’s all elaborate and going to fall out when I ride. I have no intention of staying in this carriage all day with you or of riding in this carriage when we enter into the city,” Aislynn said, “and don’t bother trying to convince me otherwise.”

  Marja shut her mouth with an angry snap, swallowing the comment she’d been about to make. The king may have sent her along to try to civilize Aislynn, but Aislynn was still a princess, despite her lack of refinement, and she definitely outranked Marja, who was only a daughter from a noble family. Besides, this really wasn’t worth arguing about, and Marja had long ago learned to pick her battles with Aislynn. Once Aislynn made her mind up about something, there was no changing it, so it was just easier to let her have her way unless it was something really important…like riding in pants!

  Marja hummed to herself as she pinned up Aislynn’s hair, happy to be doing something to help her friend, even if she didn't appreciate it. She had never minded doing some of the duties of a maidservant for Aislynn; she loved the fact that Aislynn would let her do pretty much whatever she wanted to. Marja was also excited that Aislynn was going to meet the prince of Bacovia, and she hoped the she wouldn't ruin it by acting entirely uncivilized. She applied a few cosmetics to bring out Aislynn's best features – her dark brown eyes and her high cheekbones – and sat back to admire her work.

  “There,” she said. “All presentable. Does the hair meet with your approval?”

  Aislynn reached up and brushed her hands gently along her hair, not wanting to disturb the delicate-seeming pins that held it all into position. It felt solid enough, so she gave her head a shake.

  “Perfect,” Aislynn said, smiling, when her movement didn't seem to disturb Marja’s careful work.

  “When did you get a tattoo?” Marja asked.

  “Tattoo?”

  “Yeah, there on your left arm. I saw it when you lifted your arm up to touch your hair.”

  Aislynn examined her left arm, looking at the tattoo she'd apparently gotten at some point. It was the eagle mark, which had faded from a burning red to a series of pinks, purples and blues. It was quite pretty, really. The question made Aislynn uneasy though, and with a quick thank you to Marja for her help, she sprang from the carriage like an anxious child cooped up inside for too long. She was in her saddle and riding up to the front of the caravan within seconds.

  Marja, watching her friend kick her horse into a canter, just shook her head. She’d spent all this time making the woman presentable, and Aislynn just didn’t care. The princess is incorrigible, Marja decided.

  It was just a short time later that the meeting place came into view, and the Bacovian escort was already there waiting. Aislynn slowed her horse to a trot and rode ahead, with Cheta alongside, to greet the party of men who had gathered to meet them. She scanned the area quickly, analyzing the terrain and her opponents, just as she’d been taught.

  The ground here was soft due to the spray thrown up by the waterfall tumbling down the mountainside, which resulted in a thick carpet of grass alongside the road. This would make for a softer landing if it became necessary to jump from the saddle for any reason. The river itself was not a good option for a quick getaway though, with the waterfall churning the water here into a violent maelstrom of rapids and riptides, so either back along the road or into the nearby forest was her best bet for an escape route.

  The men themselves, her potential opponents, were all armed with swords and spears, and they were all dressed in the red and grey uniform of the royal guard, all of them essentially alike. Except for one. He stood out because he was younger and shorter than the others were, and he was definitely the leader – his men deferred to him even though he’d said nothing as of yet. Their attitudes were similar to those of dogs awaiting orders from their alpha, their attention always on him. He was the one who strode forward to meet her, and to be polite, Aislynn slid down from her saddle to meet him on even terms.

  As he approached, Cheta uttered a low growl of warning. She sensed that this man was dangerous, and she tensed at Aislynn’s side, ready to defend her if necessary. Aislynn could only agree with Cheta’s assessment – this man walked with perfect balance, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Seeing Cheta’s alert stance, the man slowed and stopped a safe distance away.

  “I am Byron, captain of the royal guard,” he introduced himself. “You, I assume, are the new emissary to the court?”

  Aislynn smiled, and nodded. “I am Princess Aislynn of Evendell. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Take that, she thought at Marja. I do know my manners, thank you very much.

  Byron smiled. “Shall we talk? I think it would be a good idea if we went for a short walk along the river.” As he spoke, he began moving toward the riverbank, fully expecting her to follow. Aislynn wasn’t sure what she thought about that assumption, but after a short pause, she moved toward the riverbank anyway, curious to hear what he had to say.

  Once they were out of earshot of the Bacovian group, Byron turned toward her. “I am very sorry about your cousin. Rupert was a good friend of mine, and I will miss him.”

  “Thank you for your condolences.” Aislynn really didn't know what to say. Rupert
had been Tarren’s bodyguard for longer than she’d been alive, and she had never met him. He may have been kin, but he didn't matter to her. She changed the subject.

  “So do all visitors to Bacovia get the honor of an escort into the capital city by the captain of the royal guard, or are you here specifically for me?” Aislynn turned toward him, eying him openly, trying to appraise his speed and strength. He was handsome enough, she supposed, but nothing spectacular. His blond hair was short and his eyes a bright blue that stood out against the tanned skin of his face. If she hadn’t seen him move, Aislynn likely wouldn’t have ever given him a second glance.

  Byron laughed, a warm sound, leaving nothing back. “No, I’m here just for you, and I'll admit that you’re not what I was expecting.”

  He calmly looked her up and down, appraising her just as she was appraising him. Aislynn looked just as she was supposed to look - a young lady of royal blood, prim and proper. Her long brown hair was pulled back from her face in a mass of pretty twists, and the pale green dress clung to her thin, attractive figure while hiding her strong muscles beneath.

  “There certainly doesn't seem to be much to you,” he commented.

  Aislynn bristled at the remark. “Do you want to try your luck?” she asked menacingly, her temper overriding her attempt at manners.

  “Oh no!” he protested. “I certainly don’t want to ruin your pretty dress.”

  Byron chuckled to himself, but then stopped suddenly, feeling the pressure of a knife against his throat. He hadn't even seen her move. He raised his hands in submission, impressed despite himself.

  “Well, you certainly live up to the reputation of your people. I think you may be even faster than Rupert was.”

  Aislynn withdrew the knife and tucked it safely away in her hidden scabbard. “I’m here to do a job, and I wouldn't have been sent if I wasn’t capable of doing it. I expect that you won’t forget that. Or make belittling comments that are beneath a man of your position.”

  “I‘ll mind my tongue better from now on,” Byron promised. “Just to show you that there are no hard feelings, why don’t you take over Rupert’s sparring practice with me? We used to meet each morning at dawn, in the courtyard of the guards’ barracks. I'll show you where that is when we reach the castle. Rupert always found it difficult to stay in shape, to find time to practice, and I can use the daily check to my ego.” He smiled at her, trying to be welcoming. “What do you say?”

  Aislynn wasn’t about to start her tenure in Bacovia with a grudge. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m honored. It will be nice to have someone to exercise with, someone who knows what to expect. Father told me that I could trust you – Rupert spoke highly of you, I’m told.”

  Byron turned back toward the caravan, looking flattered.

  “It’s probably time for us to head out. We should reach the city in the late afternoon. His Majesty has prepared a dinner to welcome you, though I expect that he'll be as surprised as I am that it is you who are here.” He chuckled. “Let’s get going. Oh, and your wolf may cause some difficulties at court.”

  Aislynn was shocked. “She’s an eesprid! She'll cause no problems.”

  “That’s not quite what I meant. I know that she'll behave herself. I’m more worried about the castle dogs. Prince Eryk is fond of hunting, and keeps a fairly large pack,” Byron explained.

  “That won’t be a problem,” Aislynn assured him. “We'll introduce Cheta when we arrive and it will all get sorted out.” She dropped her hand onto the wolf’s head, fondly scratching her ears.

  The three of them started back up along the river toward the caravan and the Bacovian escort. The main group from Evendell was already turning for home, while the Bacovians were getting into position alongside the wagon containing Aislynn’s belongings, as well as those of Marja and the two guards who would be staying with her at the castle. She may not need a lot of protection, but there were appearances to maintain, after all. The carriage holding Marja was already moving along the road, also escorted by Bacovian guards.

  Aislynn swung back up into her saddle, again totally ignoring the way her dress slid up to reveal her legs briefly. After she was mounted, she moved up to the front of the column to ride with Byron, who met her there once he retrieved his own mount. Cheta loped alongside them, undisturbed by anything that was happening. Byron’s mount didn't react to her at all.

  “See?” Aislynn said, indicating Cheta. “There won’t be any trouble. Eesprid are not threatening to regular animals the way their natural counterparts are. It’s really quite fascinating, if you watch them interact for any length of time.”

  “Well I'll admit that it is certainly strange. Rupert had a hawk, and it usually spent time in the mews with the other birds, or in Rupert’s room. We had the window rigged with a string so that the bird could let itself in and out freely. There wasn’t any conflict with any of the other animals, and I figured that it was because there wasn’t any contact. I would have expected a wolf to cause a whole pile of problems.”

  “Cheta’s very quiet, as far as canines go. And the castle dogs at home never had a problem with her, just as they have no problem with my father’s fox. No need to worry.”

  As they rode, the two of them chatted, the talk turning mostly to unimportant things, and Aislynn found that she really enjoyed the ride through the countryside with Byron. It was very different than talking with Marja. She and Byron had more in common and more to talk about, and Aislynn was almost disappointed when Eaglecrest, the capital city of Bacovia, finally came into view. On one hand, she was happy that that journey was over, but on the other hand, it was rare for her to find someone that she could fully be herself around.

  The capital city spread out over a massive mountain plateau, with the castle itself occupying the highest ground closest to the mountains from which they were descending. Near the castle were the other important buildings, such as the homes of the nobility that resided in the city, and public buildings such as the cathedral, the courthouse and the library. The shops and homes of the rest of the people who lived in the city were organized into districts, connected by what appeared to be a warren of streets.

  The countryside rolled away from Eaglecrest, spilling down the mountains, and it was dotted with the farms and fields that fed the massive city. There was also a forest that stretched on as far as the eye could see, heading off to the east. It was a beautiful location to live.

  The group continued down the mountain road and soon reached the outskirts of the city. Here between the mountains and the castle was where the poorest folk lived, and the buildings were a bit ramshackle and dirty. The streets were clean though, and the people lining the way to watch the riders seemed happy enough.

  The procession continued through the streets, seeing more and more people coming out of their homes and shops to catch a glimpse of what was happening. They seemed excited to see the rampant bear of Evendell’s royal crest on the carriage, which surprised Aislynn. She turned to Byron, confused.

  “Why are these people so happy to see us? I doubt any of them even know where Evendell is, despite its close proximity.”

  “They are excited because they think that you’re here for the Courting Ball,” Byron replied.

  “The what? I've never heard of a Courting Ball.” Aislynn looked over at Byron, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Well you know that Eryk is supposed to be choosing a bride, right?”

  Aislynn nodded.

  “Well we don’t have arranged marriages here. When the time comes for the heir to choose a bride, the king holds a ball. All of the nobility in the realm come to officially introduce their daughters to the prince, hoping he'll choose one of them. They think that you've come as a prospective bride.”

  Aislynn grimaced. “Father commented something along the same lines. When I asked what my cover was going to be here, he told me that there would be a number of y
oung ladies around the court right now and that I would fit right in. Nobody said anything about a ball. Marja is going to be thrilled though.”

  They reached the castle after navigating the maze of roads, and Aislynn dismounted quickly, intending to get her horse and herself out of the way of everyone entering the courtyard, when she heard an urgent bark right behind her. She reacted without thinking, trusting Cheta implicitly, whirling around the front of her mount and ducking under his nose. Out of nowhere, a large black stallion exploded into the courtyard, scattering servants and guardsmen left and right.

  Aislynn found this behavior horrifying. The large horse could have run any of these people down, and the man astride him didn't seem to care in the least. She strode up to the big horse, Byron following unnoticed behind her, watching curiously.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing, riding in here like that? You could have killed any of us, including me!” Aislynn’s eyes flashed with anger, her cheeks flushed in a way that cosmetics couldn't imitate. She glared up at man looking down at her.

  “Don’t you know who I am?” the man sneered, not answering her question.

  “I know that you are unmannered and egotistical, which means that you are likely a member of the nobility of this kingdom. Other than that, I have no idea who you are, and I really don’t care. I do care for my safety and the safety of my people, even if you don’t have a care in the world for your own, so I demand that you get off of that great unmannered brute you call a mount and behave like the gentleman you are supposed to be.”

  Shocked speechless by this outburst, and unused to having his actions questioned, the man unconsciously did as she told him. It was only when his feet touched the ground that he seemed to realize that he’d followed an order that he’d had no intention of obeying. Eryk looked at the woman standing in front of him, taking note of her nicely done hair, her beautiful eyes. She was taller than most of the women currently at the court, coming up to nearly his chin, and he figured that she was a little younger than his twenty-five years.

  “Just who are you?” he asked, awestruck, and just a little frightened.

  By this time, the rest of Aislynn’s caravan had pulled into the courtyard, and Eryk’s hunt had finished gathering as well. Most of the members of both groups had heard Aislynn’s outburst and had watched the result. Byron picked this moment to intervene.

  “Your Highness, may I present the Princess Aislynn of Evendell.” He turned to address Aislynn. “And your Highness, may I present Prince Eryk of Bacovia.” His voice sparkled with amusement. It looked like Eryk had finally met his match.

  Eryk stood there, dumbstruck, as Aislynn turned without another word and collected her horse from a groom who had picked up the reins she’d dropped. She led the animal away with a quick whistle to Cheta, who jumped up and followed immediately. Byron laughed aloud and turned to follow the pair toward the stable. This was going to be interesting, he thought to himself.

  Branden elbowed Eryk in the side, rousing him from his shock. He was trying hard not laugh at the look on Eryk’s face.

  “She’s right, you know. Even if you are an arrogant jerk, you wouldn't want someone to get hurt.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  Eryk was moving now, taking up his horse’s reins and starting to lead the beast toward the stable. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the courtyard, and handed his reins to a nearby groom. He had no desire to be in the barn just yet. Branden laughed again and followed the prince into the castle to clean up.