by Cayla Kluver
Tadark and Temerson began to remove the picnic supplies from the buggy, while Steldor supervised, unmistakably of the opinion that he was exempt from the work. He did, however, give directions as to where everything should be located, treating the picnic like some sort of military drill. When he directed Tadark to a specific spot to lay our quilt, I could restrain myself no longer.
“I would like the quilt to go over there,” I called genially to the men, motioning to a grassy area closer to the river where several large willow trees stood, their tendrils trailing across the ground in the breeze.
“No,” Steldor said with a commanding air. “The quilt should be here.”
Tadark, who was standing with two corners of the quilt in his hands, ready to lay it on the ground, stopped as we began to bicker.
“This ground is smoother,” I contended, walking over to my chosen location, remarkably willing to spend the entire afternoon arguing about this insignificant decision.
“We will have better shade here.”
“But I’m standing over here and if we put the quilt over there, I will have to move.” I gave Steldor a sweet smile.
He tried once more. “Tadark already has the quilt halfway on the ground.”
“Surely it will take minimal effort to pick it up and bring it to me. If Tadark does not wish to exert himself, I expect you could manage it without undue strain.”
Steldor studied me for a moment, aware that he and I were engaging in some form of power struggle. Concluding he could afford to lose this skirmish, he surrendered.
“As you wish. We will put the quilt wherever you direct, Princess.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to conceal my smugness.
Tadark huffed as though moving the quilt were the most unreasonable thing I could have asked of him, but he nevertheless picked it up and brought it to where I stood. Temerson, who had been holding a large basket of food during our entire exchange, set it down appreciatively but did not say a word.
The men returned to the buggy, Tadark and Temerson to retrieve whatever drinks the cooks had supplied, and Steldor to again supervise the task. Miranna and I settled ourselves on the quilt, whereupon my sister turned to me with an exasperated sigh.
“Why can’t you treat Steldor with some decency?”
“I am not in the mood to put up with his pretentious behavior,” I replied defensively.
“Give him a chance, Alera,” Miranna pleaded. “Has he really done anything so terrible today? And don’t say he’s egotistical. He’s Steldor. You’ve known that about him for years.”
“I suppose he really hasn’t behaved too badly,” I said, a bit more petulantly than I had intended. “If it will make the day more pleasant for you, I’ll try to assume his intentions are for the best.”
“See that you do.”
Steldor was the first to return, strutting along in front of Temerson and Tadark, who were carrying wine flasks and goblets.
“I propose that we go for a stroll along the riverbank before we dine,” he said, his manner once again authoritative and, to me at least, grating.
“I think we should eat first,” I disagreed, in blatant disregard of the promise I had just made to my sister.
“If we walk now, we will build up an appetite.”
“I am hungry already. If we walk, I may faint.”
Steldor seemed to know what I was doing, and his amused visage only rankled me more. Unable to abide my obduracy, Miranna took control, rising to her feet to accompany him. She gave me a chilling look that told me to yield, and I exhaled in resignation.
“On second thought, a walk sounds lovely,” I managed, though my tone was insincere.
I stood and gripped Miranna’s hand, pulling her next to me so I would not be forced to stroll alongside Steldor.
The two military officers joined us without delay, Tadark’s duty and Steldor’s pride not allowing either of them to let us get far ahead. Temerson trailed the four of us, too daunted by the company he was keeping to walk in step with us.
The ground sloped gently toward the Recorah, flattening as it reached the river’s bank, thus permitting us to walk within a few feet of the racing water. Here, where the Recorah changed course, no longer flowing south but curving toward the western hills in the distance, its wide expanse narrowed, increasing the speed of its flow and creating a white froth against the far bank. The one bridge that spanned the river to permit entry into our kingdom was several miles to our west and was heavily guarded by Hytanican soldiers. Even though the threat from Cokyri that had been felt after the High Priestess’s capture had seemingly abated, my father and Cannan had not relaxed their vigilance, and patrols continued to monitor Hytanica’s borders while sentries kept twenty-four-hour watch over the bridge.
Miranna and I followed the bend in the river, talking softly. Steldor attempted to slide in next to me, but I was walking close to the water’s edge with Miranna planted on my other side so he had no way to position himself. He chose not to try again, which might have cast him in a foolish light, instead drifted over to Tadark, with whom he began to talk just loudly enough for us to hear.
“So, you’ve become Alera’s new bodyguard, have you?” he asked, a sly connotation to his words that I did not like.
“I have, indeed,” Tadark replied proudly.
“Here’s hoping you prove better than the last one.”
“I most definitely am better!” Tadark squeaked. “London was not a good bodyguard. He couldn’t keep track of Alera for a minute. I don’t know how he came to be a member of the Elite Guard. He clearly wasn’t fit to handle such important responsibilities.”
“I agree,” Steldor said with mock indignation. “I was never much impressed with him, unlike my father. The captain was in such an uproar when we learned that London was the traitor. Personally, I don’t understand why no one saw it coming. He’s always been a renegade.”
“I saw it coming!” Tadark exclaimed, sounding like an excited five-year-old. “I knew there was something suspicious about him from the very first moment I met him. I never quite trusted him, for his mind was often elsewhere, as if the Princess were not his first priority.”
Unable to suffer more, I opened my mouth to defend London, but Miranna’s soothing voice cut me off.
“Just ignore them,” she advised. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. Besides, Steldor is doing this on purpose. He wants to needle you. Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he has succeeded.”
With some effort, I regained my composure, recognizing that my sister had spoken wisely. Steldor and Tadark continued to talk, but I did my best to shut them out, for their words hurt me and only increased my disliking for the captain’s son.
We circled around and returned to our picnic site, the baskets waiting for us upon the quilt. As Tadark withdrew toward the buggy, Temerson finally came to join the rest of us and we sat down to unpack the provisions. Our picnic fare of hearty breads, cheeses, cold soup, fruit and wine looked delicious, but Steldor’s presence had once again robbed me of my appetite. Even so, I was thankful we were eating as it brought all talk to an end.
As the meal drew to a close, Miranna turned to Temerson with a sweet smile.
“Would you go with me to the river? I would like to rinse my hands in the water.”
Temerson nodded, his eyes growing large at having received such a request. Then he stood to accompany her, leaving me alone with my escort.
I thought there would be a very long, very tense silence, but Steldor had other plans. He sidled over to me and, placing one hand about my waist, swept me into his arms. I tried to resist, but he was strong and assured in his actions, and his intoxicating scent addled my brain.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Alera,” he murmured. “I appreciate a little spirit in a woman.” As his lips brushed my cheek, he continued, “At least this time we have a bodyguard who won’t interfere.”
“What do you mean by that?” I snapped, leaning away
from him, his reference to London jarring me to my senses.
“The last time we had a chance to be alone, London interrupted us, citing some emergency in the palace.”
He was now whisking over my shoulders the strands of hair that had escaped my braid, lightly caressing my neck with his fingers.
“I would deem rescuing me from your unwanted advances to be an emergency,” I said, pushing against him.
Steldor froze. I was certain no one had ever before so much as intimated that his advances might be unwanted, and I had just told him outright that I had no desire to be close to him at all. I could almost feel the heat rising inside of him as he got to his feet, knocking me off balance so that I tumbled uncomfortably onto my side.
“Here I am, alone with you, as affectionate and charming as anyone could ever be, and you want none of it!” His voice had lost its honeyed quality, sounding lower, rougher. “There are countless young women in Hytanica who would, without hesitation, give everything they have to win the attention I freely give to you, Alera.”
After giving the picnic basket a swift kick, he stormed off to the river’s edge, where Miranna and Temerson were sitting side by side on a rock outcropping. Miranna had finally encouraged some conversation from the timid young man, but as the field commander approached, Temerson fell silent.
Steldor situated himself close to my sister, unsheathing his dagger and placing one foot upon a boulder. I was too far away to hear him, but his body language as he flipped the knife back and forth between his hands, as well as the way Miranna was blushing, told me enough about what he was doing. With every giggle he elicited from her, my dislike for the Captain of the Guard’s son grew stronger. I was positive Steldor was trifling with Miranna in an attempt to make me jealous, but while I was feeling many things at that moment, jealousy was not in the mix.
Steldor’s flirtations continued for many minutes, until Miranna glanced over toward me and understood what his motivations truly were. She abruptly stood and pointed over his shoulder.
“Look, an apple tree!” she exclaimed.
Steldor seemed taken aback that my sister would have the presence of mind to notice an apple tree while under his spell. Then he shrugged and pivoted to face in the direction she was indicating, presumably deciding that she was too young to know how to respond to a show of interest from someone as attractive as he.
“Alera!” Miranna called. “Come pick apples with me!”
My sister walked toward me, followed by Temerson and Steldor, who had returned his dagger to its sheath. Steldor stopped beside me, wearing a smug expression, confident that his attempts to make me jealous had succeeded.
“Yes, Alera, come pick apples with us.”
I motioned to Miranna and Temerson to go on ahead, and turned to the suitor of my father’s choosing.
“Perhaps you and Tadark should ready the horses for our departure,” I suggested.
“Oh, hoping to leave so soon?” he asked. “The King won’t look for our return until late afternoon. We really shouldn’t disappoint him.” He moved closer, his eyes locked on mine.
“The horses do need tending, though,” I repeated, nervously giving ground as he advanced. “You and Tadark should lead them to the river for some water.”
For a moment, I feared he was going to seize hold of me, and my pulse quickened in recognition of how easy it would be for him to assert his will. Then he stepped past, the glint in his eyes revealing he had once again achieved his intended effect.
“As you wish,” he said flippantly over his shoulder. “Tadark and I will water the horses.”
He strode toward my befuddled bodyguard and gave him a push in the direction of the buggy.
Shaken, I trailed after Miranna and Temerson, knowing I should not oppose Steldor so boldly, for women in Hytanica were expected to obey the men in their lives without question, or suffer the consequences. While Steldor was not yet my husband, he had my father’s ear, and I did not doubt that the King would permit him latitude in dealing with me.
As I crested a small hill, I was pleased to find that there were, in fact, several apple trees. My sister was standing beneath one of them as I approached, staring up into its branches. Just as I began to wonder where Temerson was, I heard a snap and a startled yelp from high up in the tree. Miranna’s mouth opened in alarm as the young man fell from above, landing right on top of her. They tumbled to the ground, then Temerson scrambled quickly to his feet.
“Are you h-hurt?” he asked her as I rushed forward, his face turning scarlet with embarrassment.
“No, no, I’m fine,” my sister reassured him, but she winced as she shifted her body and had not yet attempted to stand.
“Well, c-can I get you anything?”
“A sip of water might be helpful,” Miranna replied.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” I asked after the young man had gone, afraid she might be downplaying her injuries so as not to worry anyone.
“Yes, I’m all right, really,” she maintained. “Just a little stiff.”
“What was Temerson doing in that tree?”
“He was trying to get that big apple for me—the ripe red one on that upper branch—and he fell. Just help me up. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.”
I reached for her hand and had her halfway to her feet when she cried out in pain and fell back again.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Where are you hurt?”
“I—I don’t know,” she said, as though every word cost her dearly. “I can’t breathe.”
“I’m calling for help.” Turning to face the buggy, I shouted, “Tadark!”
The Elite Guard was at my side in an instant, accompanied by Steldor, who had likewise heard my urgent call.
“What’s wrong?” Steldor said worriedly, as though I had called for him and not my bodyguard.
I set my eyes on Tadark as I explained, “Miranna is hurt—we must return to the palace with haste.”
“I’ve seen something like this before,” Tadark said, looking at Steldor.
“Are you that desperate to get away from me, Alera?” There was a definite edge to Steldor’s voice, and it was clear he had heard of the attack Miranna had faked in the library, which no doubt had generated talk among the guards.
I, in turn, was furious. “Though this may come as a revelation, not everything is about you, Steldor! My sister is hurt, and I demand that you transport us back to the palace.”
Miranna’s ragged breathing had become more regular, and Steldor interpreted this to mean she had grown tired of pretending.
“See,” he said, motioning to her where she lay on the ground with her eyes shut. “Her condition has improved. The game is up, Alera. Your little tricks will not work on me. We will not return to the palace until the appointed hour.”
“Fine! I will take the buggy and bring her back myself. But I would start inventing excuses, Steldor, because you’re going to need something spectacular to explain this to my father!”
I bent down beside Miranna with my back to my bodyguard and my escort. “Try again to stand and I will help you to the buggy.”
I guided her into a sitting position, although she gasped with the effort. As she attempted to rise, a sharp cry escaped her lips and she collapsed, fainting from the pain. I barely managed to put my arm under her back and catch her, thus saving her from another collision with the ground.
After easing her down, I glared at the men with whom I was growing ever more enraged, willing them to do something. At last Steldor knelt beside my sister’s limp form and pressed a hand against her ashen cheek.
“Her skin does feel clammy,” he acknowledged, his forehead at last furrowed with worry.
“What do we do?” Tadark asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot as if he wanted to run somewhere, but was uncertain in which direction to flee.
“Gather whatever you can in the next few minutes and pack it into the buggy,” Steldor commanded, then turned to me. “How was she
injured?”
“She fell,” I lied, hoping to save Temerson from Steldor’s wrath. Fortunately, he did not press me further.
“Go to the buggy,” he directed. “I can carry Miranna.”
I watched as Steldor lifted my sister, then he and I strode after Tadark. Temerson was standing beside the picnic quilt, holding the cup of water he had retrieved, shock upon his face as he watched the field commander bearing the incapacitated princess.
I stopped Steldor as he was about to try to position Miranna upright in the back of the buggy.
“Don’t! She needs to lie down.” I hurried to tug the quilt out from under the remaining picnic items, then carried it to where Steldor stood with my sister in his arms, moving past him to fold the quilt and provide Miranna with a pillow.
“There isn’t going to be enough space for the rest of us,” Steldor pointed out.
“I can kneel on the floor and watch over her.”
Steldor frowned, then laid Miranna down.
“You will ride up front with me. Temerson can kneel and tend to Miranna. The floor is no place for a lady, and I fear you would tumble from the buggy. One injured princess is quite enough.”
He called to Temerson to take up his place and assisted me onto the front bench seat.
“Abandon anything that cannot be transported with you on your horse,” he told Tadark as he climbed up beside me. With a snap of the reins, he sent the horses off at a gallop, and I silently prayed that Miranna had not suffered serious harm.
The enormous stone walls surrounding the city looked forbidding and cold against the steadily darkening sky as we neared our destination, and the first rumble of thunder reached our ears as Steldor pulled the horses down to a trot. The heavy gates of iron that controlled access to the city were raised at this hour of the day, and though we passed unhindered beneath their spikes, the City Guards on either side regarded us quizzically, having witnessed our reckless return.
