“I think it would only be fair to warn you,” the handsome guard captain said, “that I have been trained for ten years by some of the best duelists in the city. I have spent the better part of my life learning the art of the blade.”
Aaron grunted, “With a name like Francis, I guess you’d have to, wouldn’t you?”
The man hissed in anger at that, “My queen,” he said, turning, “we are prepared when you are.”
The queen smiled, glancing around at the gathered nobles, “Well, my lords and ladies, shall we have us a show?”
The nobles clapped and gave cheers as if on cue, puppets knowing what was expected of them when their strings were pulled.
“Very well,” the queen said, “but try not to hurt your sister’s companion too much, please captain. And let us make it interesting. The man who draws first blood will be considered the winner.” Then she clapped her hands, her chins shaking with her laughter, “Begin!”
And begin he did, the captain hurtling forward, his attacks swift and confident. Aaron backpedaled, moving in a circle in the relatively small space the room afforded him, taking the man’s measure. The captain was fast, that was true, his strikes sure, but he was angry now and that, coupled with the fact that he’d never fought for his life, never had the real fear of death to spur his actions, meant that he paid little attention to his own defense, sending in strike after strike with no care for what his opponent might counter with.
Aaron let himself be pushed back and back, always circling so that he didn’t fetch up against one of the tables—this crowd, he didn’t know if he’d ever be forgiven for disrupting the pastries. The captain grew more confident with each backward step Aaron took and soon there was a smile on his face, a smile saying he already knew how the thing would end, it was just a matter of getting there.
Aaron’s blade seemed to barely parry each attack, saving him at the last instant each time, and the captain’s smile grew wider still. The nobles and the queen clapped on, leaning forward in their seats in expectation. Then, judging when the time was right, Aaron stopped backpedaling under the man’s assault, instead stepping forward and swinging his thin blade at the man’s own as it darted forward, knocking it wide.
In another moment, the tip of his dueling steel was at the man’s throat, a small drop of blood gathering there. The guard captain stared at it in shock, as if it was some strange creature that he’d never seen before and had not thought existed. “Ten years of training, you say?” Aaron said. “I’ve been training my entire life.”
“I … captain,” the queen began, her voice suddenly unsure and confused, but the young handsome man wasn’t listening. He growled and knocked Aaron’s blade aside with his own as he began his assault again.
Aaron had expected as much from the man, a man not used to being matched against someone with any skill with a blade, and he allowed himself to be pushed back under the assault once again. Closer and closer they drew to the tables, Aaron not circling this time but moving straight back as the young man hissed and cursed and swung his blade in ferocious arcs, charging forward, his anger controlling him now.
Aaron gave the queen what time he could, time to get her man in check, to call him down for having lost, but she said nothing and a stolen glance showed her leaning forward eagerly, licking her lips in anticipation. Alright then. Aaron waited until he judged the tables a couple of feet behind him, no more, then he stepped out of the way of one of the young captain’s lunges and, instead of bringing his own blade to bear, he knotted his free hand into a fist and hammered it into the captain’s stomach.
The captain’s breath left him in a pained gust, but Aaron wasn’t finished. He stepped forward, grabbing the man by the back of the head, and slamming his face down into one of the tables, the noble sitting across giving a shout of surprise as he did. The captain’s head rebounded off the table, and his steel fell to the ground as he dropped backward onto his ass.
Aaron stared down at the whimpering man, a hand over his freshly broken nose, blood running from it onto his face and his fine white clothes. “Y-you … bwoke my nose.” The young captain stammered, his eyes staring at Aaron in shock.
Aaron nodded, shrugging, “I warned you,” he said, tossing his own steel to land at the young man’s feet, “where I come from, there’s always a lot more blood.”
The dining hall grew completely silent then, a stunned, shocked silence. Then, a single set of hands began clapping, and Aaron turned to see a guard extricate himself from the side of the room where he and others soldiers had been stationed. He was an older man, in his fifties, maybe, short cropped gray hair, and a coarse growth of beard and moustache, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. The stubble did little to hide a scar that ran down one side of his face, no doubt the reason for the patch covering his left eye. “Well done,” he said.
Aaron stared at the man. Not as pretty as the youth, maybe, not an ornament to be fancied up and go well with a certain dress or to pander to the nobles, but a man who clearly knew his business. Aaron nodded to him, dipping his head low, and the man grinned before turning to the queen, “Your Majesty,” he said, “With your permission, I’d better get the captain here to a healer, see what can be done about the nose.”
The queen sat frozen for a second, then her face slowly twisted into that of a petulant child, a spoiled one who’d just been told ‘no’ for the first time in her life. “Very well, sergeant,” she spat, “take him and see to it that he gets the best of care.”
The man bowed, “Of course, my queen.”
He walked toward where the young captain still sat on the ground, his broken nose cradled now in two bloody hands. “Alright, captain,” he said, putting his hands under the man’s arms and hoisting him up, “Up you get.”
“He bwoke my nose,” the young captain said again, slobber and blood coming out as he did.
“Yes sir,” the older man said, glancing at Aaron, his eyes dancing in amusement, “A clean break.” He got the man upright and slung one of the young captain’s arms over his own and turned to start toward the door but paused at the sound of the queen’s voice.
“Sergeant?” The queen said.
“Yes, your Majesty?”
“We will speak with you alone, after. Perhaps, it would be wise to see that you are taught something of decorum and manners.”
The sergeant bowed his head as well as he could under the weight of the young man, but Aaron could see the laughter still lurking in his eyes, “Of course, your Majesty. As you will.”
“Sergeant is it?” Aaron asked as the man walked past, thinking that, from what he’d seen, the man should have been captain. Knew enough to know that the man would have made a good one.
The older man didn’t speak, his only answer a wink with his one good eye as he made his way toward the door.
“Well,’ the queen said, her voice petulant and annoyed, once the sergeant had led the bleeding, slobbering captain from the hall. “I don’t know how you do things where you come from, sir,” she said, turning to Aaron, “but here in Isalla, we do not assault men who we are dueling for sport. We are not savages,” she said, glancing at Leomin, “after all.”
Aaron didn’t know how to respond to that. Sure, he could mention the fact that he had drawn first blood, the queen’s own rule, but that the man had kept at him anyway, and he’d only been defending himself, but why bother? It was clear enough how it was going to go, so he said nothing instead.
“And now you do not speak?” Isabelle said, shaking her head in disgust and turning to Adina, “I do not know where you find such creatures as this, dear sister, but I am of a mind to throw him in a cage until you leave. Who knows what such a one will do next?”
Adina turned away from staring at Aaron to look at the queen and sighed. “Sister, you know as well as I that Aaron drew first blood. Your captain is the one—”
“My captain is now injured, sister,” the queen hissed, “and his nose might never set right again after
your,” she hesitated, waving her chubby fingers at Aaron, “your thug there so cruelly broke it.” Adina started to speak again, but the queen held up an angry hand, forestalling her, “Know also, younger sister, that I will not be lectured in my own halls.”
“Very well,” Adina said, with an obvious effort, “I apologize, sister. If there’s anything we can do to help with your man’s recovery—”
“Such as?” Isabelle spat, “what, will your pet Parnen cast some witchery on him, sister? No, I think not. My own personal healers will see to Francis, thank you.”
“These men,” Adina said, “are the most trustworthy I have ever known, sister. I would trust any one of them with my life and more but as you will. Anyway, it’s important that I talk to you about why we’ve come. You see—”
“No, no, no,” The queen said, “I will not speak to you of whatever business has brought you to my door step now, for I am too upset. I know some bit of your own troubles, sister, and I’d think that a princess without a kingdom would be wise to show more courtesy upon visiting others. Think of that, while you wait in your rooms.” She waved a hand and several guards stepped forward to escort Adina and the others out. “Show my sister and her … associates to their rooms. I will call for them later, once I have had some time to reflect.”
Adina looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it, turning stiffly and following the guards out. Aaron started to follow then glanced at the blood staining the perfectly white floor. “Does anybody have a napkin?” He said, glancing at the nobles at the tables who stared at him as if they didn’t speak his language.
“Get out!” The queen screeched, and Aaron nodded, turning and following after Adina and the rest.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
They’d all been shown to separate rooms on one wing of the castle and guards were posted at the end, ostensibly to keep them safe, but Aaron suspected the men were really there to keep an eye on them. He’d been in his room for no more than half an hour before Adina came to get him, leading him into her own room where—he was disappointed to see—the others waited. “Well” she said once they were all settled, “that maybe could have went better.”
“Still,” Leomin said, grinning at Aaron, “it was fun to watch. Mr. Envelar, if you ever decide to change professions, I confess that I believe you would excel in the theater.”
Adina laughed, “I’ll admit that I did enjoy watching that pompous bastard be taught a lesson. But….” She glanced at Aaron, “did you have to break his nose?”
“No. I didn’t have to. But, then, he didn’t have to embarrass those men, either.”
Leomin laughed at that, and even Owen gave a tentative smile. “A room full of fools,” the Parnen said, “It would have done them well, I think, had they all received similar treatment as our poor young captain.” He glanced at Adina, “No offense, of course, to your sister, princess."
“Never mind that, Leomin,” Adina said, “She’s the biggest fool of the lot, at least. I still can’t believe it. Isabelle always had a touch of vanity, sure, but … what we saw in there?” She shook her head, “I almost didn’t even recognize her and not just from the way she looked. My sister has always been vain, but she’s never been cruel before, watching and laughing while Captain Francis did that.”
“A room full of fools, maybe,” Aaron said, “but I wonder about that one man. The older guy, one your sister called sergeant. He seemed to know what he was about.”
“And that’s another thing that troubles me,” Adina said. “The man you’re speaking of? His name is Brandon Gant. He once served under my father, a good soldier, a good man. The last I heard, he was serving as my sister’s captain of the guard. To be replaced by that pompous bastard Francis….” She shook her head, “It’s troubling.”
“Not pretty enough, maybe,” Aaron said, “what with the missing eye and all.”
“Perhaps,” Adina said, “but I think it’s more than that. Did you see the way my sister spoke to the young captain?”
“Sure,” Aaron said, “like he was the biggest pastry she’d ever seen, and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him.”
Adina slapped his hand, “Aaron,” she scolded, but there was laughter in her voice. “Still, it’s true enough. Something’s going on here, and I don’t like it. I think it would be wise if we were all very careful with what we did and said moving forward.” She glanced at Aaron, “And try not to break anymore noses will you?”
Aaron nodded, “I’ll do my best.”
Adina sighed, “I get the feeling we need to be very careful in who we trust here.”
Leomin glanced at Owen, an almost imperceptible look, but Aaron caught it. He considered saying something but let it pass instead. They had enough going on without him worrying about Leomin’s mistrust. “Well. What do we do now?”
Adina shrugged, “There’s not much we can do but wait until Isabelle calls us.” She shook her head in anger, “It’s foolish; we travel all this way, and then we’re sent to our rooms like children up past their bedtime.”
“Maybe,” Aaron said, “but I wouldn’t mind a little bit of sleep myself.”
Owen nodded, yawning, then looking around sheepishly, “Sorry. I agree with Aaron though—I didn’t sleep particularly well last night.” He let out one of his self-deprecating laughs, “Nerves, I guess.”
“Yes,” Leomin said, studying him, “nerves, I’m sure.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Aaron had only just closed his eyes when there was a loud knock at the door, jarring him from sleep. He rose and moved toward it, reaching for his blade instinctively only to remember at the last moment that he’d been forced to leave it with the guards before entering the castle. Biting back a curse, he threw the latch on the door and opened it slowly, half expecting to see the young captain on the other side, a bandage on his nose and a blade in his hand.
The man who stood on the other end did have a blade, though it remained in the scabbard at his side. Aaron was surprised to find it was the older man from before, the one who Adina had spoken of, Brandon Gant. “Alright son,” the older man said, turning to a young guard standing beside him, one Aaron recognized as one of the men who’d been set to watch on their hall, “you go on back to your station.”
“But Sergeant….” The man began, hesitating at a look from the older man. He swallowed hard and nodded instead, “Yes, Sergeant,” he said, then turned and was gone.
The sergeant glanced around the room, still standing in the doorway, noted the messy covers on the bed. “Getting any sleep?”
“Trying to,” Aaron said, smiling slowly, “till a knock like thunder came at my door, anyway. What do you have hands made of iron or something?”
The older man laughed, a warm, true laugh, and Aaron found himself grinning. “Sorry about that. Occupational hazard, I guess. Sometimes, only way to get some of these louts to hear you is to be louder than everythin’ else.”
“By louts,” Aaron said, “I’m assuming you mean the other guards and soldiers.”
The older man grunted, “Sure, if you want to call them that.” He offered his hand, and Aaron took it, giving it a firm shake. “The name’s Brandon Gant,” the man said, “sergeant of the queen’s guard and of her armies, such as they are.”
Aaron grinned, “Aaron Envelar, and I know your name. The princess told me.”
The sergeant’s grin grew wide, a grandfather hearing about a favored granddaughter, “and how is the princess? Lady Adina,” he shook his head, “a strange thing, seein’ her all grown up.” He sobered then, “I was glad to see that the rumors of her death were a lie, but sad for what it means.” He snorted, “Riding accident. That girl’s been on a horse since she was a child, and if there’s a better rider in the world, I’ve never seen him.”
Aaron, Co said, maybe you should ask the gentleman inside.
And put my virtue at risk?
“Please,” Aaron said, stepping
to the side and motioning, “Come in.”
The sergeant did, closing the door behind him. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I won’t be long. Let you get back to your sleep.”
Aaron shrugged, “However. I wasn’t getting much of it anyway—the bed’s so damned soft I thought I was going to sink right through the thing.”
The sergeant grunted a laugh, but his eyes studied Aaron sharply, “Not used to such luxuries then? Better a cot on the floor for you?”
Aaron shrugged, suddenly feeling like he was being interrogated, “I guess.”
The older man nodded as if he’d just had some suspicion confirmed. “It was good blade work you showed in the dining hall,” the man said, “It’s not often I’ve seen such skill.”
Aaron grunted, “Comes from a lot of practice trying not to get stabbed, I guess.”
The sergeant nodded, his eyes narrowing, “Which begs the question. How did you end up with the princess, Aaron Envelar? A man like you … forgive me for sayin’ so, and I don’t mean any offense, but seems to me that a man like yourself don’t spend a lot of time around royalty. If you did, I suspect there’d be a lot more people with broken noses.”
Aaron hesitated, unsure of how to answer the man. “I’m a friend of the princess’s,” he said finally, hating himself for how lame it sounded.
The sergeant was slow in answering, studying him, “Do you know, Mr. Envelar, I used to serve Lady Adina’s father, King Marcus.”
“So I’ve heard,” Aaron said.
“Yes, well, I say that to say that I’ve known Adina since she was a little girl, since the Queen—gods rest her soul—gave birth to her.” He shook his head, his gaze lost in memory, “A sweet child, the sweetest you’d ever meet. Showed kindness even to a simple, common man like me, though the gods know I didn’t deserve it. I was younger then, though not anymore handsome, alas,” he said, winking and grinning.
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