by S. Young
Jarek looked up from checking a chestnut bay’s hooves. He grinned at me. “Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged, sauntering leisurely toward him. “Any one of the other stables. Or the kitchen. Cook made cakes today.”
He sucked in a breath of mock disappointment. “And I missed them?”
“Jarek, you would have missed them even if you’d been there. Valena and I devastated the plate within five seconds.”
“Valena …” He threw me a teasing smirk. “She’s getting to be too much like you.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.” I frowned. “And what’s wrong with being like me?”
Jarek studied me, his smile widening to a wicked grin. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
Despite myself, I warmed at Jarek’s attention. We had been friends for a long time, but more and more lately, our conversations had taken a decidedly flirtatious turn. And he was extremely good-looking. However, that was the problem. I knew too many maids, and even a few noblewomen, who had shared Jarek’s bed. Despite that reckless little voice inside that was eager to uncover the mysteries of intimacy between lovers, I didn’t want to be just another girl he’d tumbled.
I cleared my throat. “Haydyn wishes to go to the marketplace right away. Will you ready Midnight and Sundown?”
Jarek nodded. “Is the Guard going with you?”
I winced. “Yes.”
“You don’t sound too excited about it. Here’s a thought.” He bent his head to mine, his breath hot on my ear. Goosebumps skated down my spine. “Why don’t I be your guard for the day? I’d take very good care of you, Rogan.”
“And Haydyn?” I murmured, my body vibrating with awareness of him.
Jarek laughed softly. “She has Lord Matai.” He drew back only a little, our noses almost touching. “You can have me.”
“Well, isn’t this cozy.”
I closed my eyes at the voice of interruption.
Wolfe.
Ugh, how I hated him.
Jarek sighed and retreated as I turned to face Wolfe. He leaned against the stable wall, glaring at us. “Apparently, I’m escorting you to the marketplace. When were you planning on delivering that message? A week, maybe two …?”
I glowered. “Clearly it makes no matter since the message has been delivered.”
Wolfe pushed away from the wall and strode toward me. Dear haven, he was tall. He towered over me and Jarek. “You,” he bit out at Jarek, “the horses. Now. Hers”—he flicked a distasteful look at me—“the princezna’s, Lord Matai’s, my own, and three of my guard.”
Jarek crossed his arms over his chest, not in the least intimidated. “Which three?”
“Worth, Vincent, and Chaeron,” Wolfe replied through clenched teeth.
Jarek nodded tightly. His expression softened when his eyes fell upon me again, and he winked. “I’ll speak with you later, Rogan.”
“Jarek.” I watched him leave, biting my lip against indecent thoughts as he swaggered out of the stable and into the next. Feeling Wolfe’s eyes on me, I turned and met his sharp look with one of my own. “What?”
“What?” He guffawed incredulously. “The princezna has been unwell and everyone is agreeing to her outing to the market, and you’re in here flirting with the stable boy.”
“Stable master,” I corrected, poking him in the chest with the words. “And don’t take that self-righteous tone with me, as if I don’t care about Haydyn.”
Wolfe snorted. “Do you care? You were supposed to come and inform me so I can protect you at market, and you’re in here with your legs practically wrapped around Jarek.”
How dare he? I sucked in a breath at the accusation. “You’re lucky I don’t slap you for that insinuation. Jarek is my friend. I came here to ask him to prepare the horses, and I was just about to come and find your sorry ass to let you know Haydyn required your company. Not that I should have to explain myself to you.”
“Sorry ass.” Wolfe threw me a disdainful look. “Really? That’s the language of the Handmaiden of Phaedra? Very refined.”
Refined? I’d give him refined. I’d been around enough stable boys to know my share of curse words. “Oh, sod off, Captain,” I threw over my shoulder as I departed the stables.
The city of Silvera grew quiet and the crowds parted as we moved through them on the cobbled streets. Their chatter hushed and then rose again as the people gathered together at the rear of our entourage, like a wave crashing to shore behind us.
I rode beside Haydyn on Midnight, she on Sundown. Matai was on Haydyn’s other side and three of the Royal Guard were at our backs. Wolfe rode in front, his eagle eyes watching the crowds as we traveled past taverns, apothecaries, inns, butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers. The marketplace was in the large Silvera Square where people from the neighboring provinces came to sell their wares. Haydyn always had a particular interest in the artists and craftsmen of Raphizya and the beautiful glasswork of Vasterya.
“I’ve decided to hold a ball.” Haydyn waved to Silverans who bowed and curtsied as we cantered past.
I raised an eyebrow. “A ball?”
“Hmm.” Haydyn grinned excitedly. She seemed so young in that moment, despite her nineteen years. “A ball. I’ll invite all the Rada and all the noblemen and women of every province. A way of showing our solidarity in an unsettling time.”
“A ball?” I still wasn’t convinced.
“I think it’s a fine idea, Princezna.” Matai smiled at her.
I sighed. “No one asked you, Lord Matai.”
“Rogan, be nice,” Haydyn tutted. “Anyway, Lord Matai is correct. It is a fine idea.”
My heart jumped a little at the determination in her voice and hope bloomed. Perhaps Haydyn was finally taking charge. And I might not like fancy balls, but … it was a good idea. If only because it was her idea.
Her face fell when I didn’t respond. Abruptly, she looked anxious. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea, Rogan?”
I cursed inwardly. Why did everyone’s opinion matter so much to her? She was as smart and capable as any of us fools whose advice she solicited. I wished she’d remember she was fair and just and royal—she should not concern herself with my opinion, or anyone else’s, for that matter.
Instead I gave her a soft smile. “Lord Matai’s correct. It’s a fine idea.”
Moment of worry over, Haydyn’s expression turned cheerful as we entered the marketplace. Again, all went quiet at the sight of us, but gradually, as we trotted over to the stables, the noise level rose again.
“Please, I want you to seek out the finest fabric for me, for my new ballgown, as well as the finest for yourself,” Haydyn commanded politely as Matai helped her dismount. I was so shocked by the request, I dismounted without help, forgetting I wasn’t supposed to do that in public. But Haydyn very rarely used my magic and never for something as frivolous as fabric shopping.
My body crackled from the inside out, drawing me toward a fabric stall deep in the crowds of the square. “Fabric?”
“Hmm.” Haydyn nodded. “We want to look our best for such an important event.”
“Not the key to world peace? Not the answer to shutting down a rookery or controlling nomads? Fabric?”
Haydyn exhaled wearily. “Must I repeat it, Rogan, when we both know you’re being facetious?”
I shrugged. “Well, I just had no idea that the form of our fashion was so incredibly important to settling Phaedrian disputes.”
“More facetiousness. Lovely.”
“Fine. Away I go to seek and order the fabric.” I glanced between her and Matai. “What are you going to do?”
Haydyn stared a little too adoringly at her bodyguard. “Lord Matai’s going to escort me around the market while I choose some gifts to present to our guests at the ball.”
I threw him a mock horrified look. “Lord Matai, may I say now how much I’ve enjoyed knowing you, for I fear it will be the last time I look upon you.” I winced. “D
eath by boredom is such a tragic way to go.”
He grinned. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”
“You don’t have to sound so put upon.” Haydyn sniffed.
I laughed, thinking about her well-known generosity. “And just where are all these gifts going? We didn’t bring a cart?”
“I’ll borrow one. Or buy one. I am the princezna.”
I almost rolled my eyes. She asserts her authority when shopping. Wonderful.
“Don’t let me keep you. Off I go. Shan’t be long.” I disappeared into the crowds before Haydyn demanded I take an escort.
I breathed deeply of the thick smells. It was a strange mixture of pungent sheep’s wool, beets, chocolate, oil, sweet meats, bread, perfume, paint … oh, it was a fragrance of all the variety of the market. Usually, I disliked the crowds, preferring to escape to the cliffs some miles from the palace. I loved the peace and quiet of watching the surf of the Silver Sea crash against the cliff walls. The sea’s fierceness reminded me what it was to be alive.
But I was never alone. There was always a guard with me some way in the distance.
Today, as I swept past people, some who recognized me, some who didn’t—merchants calling out to me to buy their wares, desperate for what they assumed was a noblewoman to purchase some expensive bauble from them—I loved the market in that moment. Because I was alone. All alone. Free.
I was quick on my feet, dodging persistent sellers and hopefully any of the Guard who may have followed me. In no time at all, I found the stall with the fabric that called to my magic. I recognized it immediately. Velvet, the color of lapis lazuli, made from the finest silk in the textile factories in Ryl. Haydyn would look wonderful in it. I reached out to stroke the beautiful fabric when a hand clamped around my wrist.
“No, no, miss.” I looked up into the ruddy face of the market seller. “Not the right color for you, miss. Come see some of my silks.” He tried to pull me toward the more expensive material. I tugged on his grip, but he was determined.
I grew irritated by his persistence. “Sir—”
“With a face and figure like yours, you shouldn’t hide behind heavy textures. Fine silks, miss, fine silks for you.”
I tugged again. Oh yes. This was why I hated the marketplace.
A large hand came down on top of the seller’s, ripping it from my own and holding it tight. Both the seller and I looked up into the angry face of Wolfe Stovia.
“You dare to lay your hand on the princezna’s handmaiden?” Wolfe growled at the man.
The seller blanched as he looked at me, recognition finally dawning. “Oh, my lady, I meant no disrespect.”
Wolfe grunted and shoved the man away a little. “Lady or servant, I see you trying to coerce a woman again, and you and I will have words.”
I’d never seen anyone look so green with fear. “Apologies, my lord. I was overexcited. It won’t happen again. Apologies, my lady.”
Oh, for haven’s sake. “I’m not a lady,” I snapped, furious at Wolfe for drawing attention to the situation and blowing it out of proportion. The overbearing lout. I glared at him. “You, sir, are a bully.”
Wolfe frowned at me. “And you are the Handmaiden of Phaedra and as such, a lady. You are not to allow strange men to touch you.”
“I’ll allow a mountain man of Alvernia to touch me before I take advice from you, Stovia.” Dismissing him, agitated by his presence, his ruination of my pretense at freedom, I turned to the seller. “I want one bolt of the lapis lazuli velvet and one of the emerald silk chiffon.”
I relaxed a little at having completed my task for Haydyn, but then my body hummed with energy again. I turned without thinking toward a stall some quarter of the way back into the middle of the market. The fabric that would suit me most was in there somewhere. Damn Haydyn. Damn being an Azyl.
I spun back to the seller. “Have the fabric delivered to the palace and ask for Seamstress Rowan. You’ll be paid well for your troubles.”
He nodded, doing this obscene half-bow/curtsy thing that made me throw a growl in Wolfe’s direction. Turning sharply from them both, I followed my magic across the marketplace and drew in a breath at the pleasant sandalwood scent that signaled Wolfe had fallen into step beside me.
I stopped abruptly. “What are you doing?”
Wolfe shrugged, refusing to look at me, refusing to leave. “Just one of the more unpleasant jobs of being captain of the Guard. Protecting you.”
“We are droll, aren’t we?”
“Some people think I’m charming.” He grinned flirtatiously at a passing tavern girl who continued to eye him over her bare shoulder as we walked away.
“Some people don’t know any better.”
“Ooh, is that judgment I hear in the voice of the lady who was flirting with a mere stable boy this morning?”
I gritted my teeth. “Stable master.”
Wolfe raised one annoying eyebrow. “As if that makes it any more palatable. You know he’s bedded every woman in the palace. You’re not special.”
My blood boiled beneath my skin, as it did whenever I was forced to be in proximity to this man. I tried to take deep, calming breaths. I did. I really, really did. It didn’t work. “Who I choose to converse with is of no consequence to you, Captain Stovia. And may I remind you to whom you are speaking?”
He threw me a mocking look. “So, there is a snob buried under all that ‘I’m not a lady, I’m not a lady, I’m just like everyone else’ piffle?”
“I am just like everyone else. Except,” I snapped, “when it comes to you. You will talk to me like I’m royalty, Captain. As in … don’t speak to me at all.”
Wolfe stiffened at my insults, his face taut with anger. Our dislike was definitely, definitely mutual. “If you want to make this about rank, Rogan—”
I flinched at his use of my given name. He’d never called me Rogan before. Not to my face, anyway. It had always been my lady, despite my lack of nobility.
“May I remind you that I’m the one with lord before my name? Don’t speak to me like I’m dirt beneath your shoe.”
Arrogant beast. I shook my head. Just like his demon father. I laughed humorlessly, a cold, brittle laugh that caused him to wince. “You don’t need to remind me who you are, Vikomt Stovia.” With that, I veered from him, pushing through the crowds to escape him. I glanced back to make sure he did not follow. He didn’t, but he lifted his chin in someone else’s direction. It was an order.
Within seconds, Lieutenant Chaeron had pushed through the crowds to be at my side, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
My first impulse was to be aggravated and suffocated by his presence, but then I recalled Jarvis’s words of warning. There was a reason behind Haydyn’s idea for a ball. Quite suddenly, I was glad for our trained Guard. We had never needed them before.
But then there had never been crime in civilized Phaedra before.
Chapter 4
“What about Matai, Haydyn?” I hissed, knowing he stood outside her bedroom suite.
She glanced worriedly at the door. “Please, keep your voice down, Rogan.”
I bit my lip against a tirade. I was so mad at her. I wanted her to wake up! My head swam with all Ava and Jarvis had informed us.
That morning, Haydyn had been called to the Chambers to speak with Jarvis and Ava: Last night, Wolfe’s men had returned … and they hadn’t returned bearing good news.
“So … it’s all true?” Haydyn had asked as she sat clutching my hand tight in hers. I ignored the stinging pain of her long nails digging into my skin and tried to squeeze her hand in reassurance.
Jarvis nodded. He seemed to have aged a decade since we saw him but a few weeks before. “All three complaints proved true. Javinia is in unrest, and it seems rumor of the unrest is spreading through Sabithia. Alvernia is worsening. Even the Valley grows more uncivilized. Apparently, Arrana is the only civilized city left in the province. And as for the rookery in Vasterya … well, it does exist.”
Ha
ydyn grew tense beside me, her young eyes round and fearful. “What do we do?”
Ava and Jarvis shared a look.
It was I who questioned it.
“Well.” Jarvis cleared his throat. “Of course, we should send reinforcements into Javinia, and someone should speak with Markiz Solom Rada in Pharya—he needs to send his guard out to police the rookery. It’s unfathomable that he hasn’t already.”
“Is it?” Ava murmured. It appeared Ava and I shared the same opinion of Markiz Solom.
He was my least favorite of the Rada. Spoiled, entitled, weak.
“What about Alvernia?” I queried.
Again, they exchanged a nervous glance.
Ava attempted to smile brightly. “We have a wonderful suggestion.”
My intuition told me it wasn’t that wonderful. “Suggest it, then.”
“Rogan,” Haydyn admonished.
Seeming unconcerned with my attitude, Jarvis leaned forward across the table, his eyes all grandfatherly and wise as he focused his attention on Haydyn. “You are of an age now, Princezna, and it’s time to discuss the possibility of you marrying and carrying on the Dyzvati line.”
I sucked in a breath, feeling Haydyn stiffen under my touch. “She’s not a broodmare.”
Jarvis flinched at my tone and narrowed his eyes on me. “I suggest no such thing, Rogan. Please dispense with the attitude.”
“Rogan, please.” Haydyn patted my hand. “His Grace is right. I am of age.”
As I watched Ava and Jarvis share pleased looks, I just knew deep in the pit of my stomach what they wanted of her. “You want a match with Alvernia.”
They seemed shocked at my deduction and Jarvis shifted nervously for a moment. Vaguely, I noted Matai stiffen at the door.