“The north?” Disbelief shocked her, followed by a dark dread, which settled in her bones. Had she awoken the threat when she called on the northern lands for help?
Nathaniel pulled away abruptly as Brax entered the corridor.
“Valoria, I must speak with you.” Brax’s voice was blunt and businesslike, as if he called on a servant.
Valoria glanced back for Nathaniel. He’d disappeared in the crowd. The old woman stared at her with large, knowing eyes that bored into her soul and upturned all her secrets. Valoria turned back to Brax and cut through the crowd. Anything to escape the old woman’s eyes.
She reached him and followed him into the council chamber. Ebonvale’s purple pennants hung from lofty rafters. An oily, vermillion scale as large as a carriage hung on a slab of wood on the wall. It must have been taken from one of the wyverns in the final battle at Scalehaven that she’d read about. Old swords lined the walls, probably the weapons of past rulers. This was a place where battle plans were laid down, a place of finality, a room of fate.
Unease crawled over her shoulders. All this time she’d wanted to be in this room, and now the urge to leave crept up her legs.
Brax gestured toward a high back chair with red jewels in the frame and a velvet cushion. “Have a seat.”
Valoria shook her head. “I prefer to stand. Why did you not include me in this meeting?”
He blinked in surprise, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Ebonvale’s matters are not your concern.”
Anger flared inside her. “Aren’t they? If I am to be the future queen?” It was the first time she’d directly mentioned their union to him. She felt absurd stating the obvious fact they’d both been denying. But, sooner or later they had to come to terms with their union and all that it implied.
Brax ran a hand over his face. “One step at a time. First, I must ask you to withdraw the minstrels who are able to travel. They must return to the House of Song.”
“Whatever for?”
“There is a new threat to this castle. The minstrels will be safer within their own kingdom, protected by their…” He waved his hand as if he couldn’t possibly understand it. “Songs.”
Was his skull as thick as it looked? “They should stay here to lend their aid. You will need them.”
“They have completed their mission. They’ve brought you here unscathed. At present, they are distracting my forces and causing dissent in the city when we need unity to present a strong front. Do not fret, I will send a retinue of men to protect them on their journey back.”
“They are here to preside at the wedding.” Valoria stood as if she had iron in her back. She couldn’t order the minstrels home now after they’d traveled all this way and survived such a brutal attack. Besides, she wasn’t ready to be left alone with these warriors. The minstrels gave her a semblance of community. If Brax thought he could take that away with a single order, then he didn’t know the princess of the House of Song.
“The wedding must be postponed.” Not one sliver of emotion crossed Brax’s thick nose, thin lips, and wide chin. He could have been remarking on the weather.
Relief flowed through her, and she pushed it back, ashamed of her own weakness. Father’s words from her childhood came back to haunt her…watch what you wish for. “Surely the king and queen disagree.”
Brax shook his head. “They have given me full authority on the matter.” He walked toward her and placed a finger under her chin, bringing her face to meet his. “Do not pretend you are not pleased.”
She pulled away and eyed him defensively. “I am not pleased. I am…” She struggled to find the most diplomatic word. “Surprised.”
He turned toward the window, and whatever openness he’d shared closed like a steel door in her face. “The king and queen are on their way to speak to your retinue. The minstrels who are able will leave tomorrow at first light.”
Chapter 8
My Fair Lady
“What’ll it be, sir?” The man at the bar polished a tin cup and glanced at Nathaniel with a crooked smile. He had a golden front tooth, but his overcoat had seen better days. Nathaniel lamented the fact this man would get no tip from his purse.
“I’m not here for a drink.” Nathaniel ignored the heads that turned in his direction. “I wish to speak with a certain barmaid.”
“A barmaid?” The man chuckled. The top button was missing from his coat and the threads dangled loose. “Well, aren’t you a ladies’ man.”
Nathaniel’s patience wore thin. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “This is for an investigation conducted by the Royal Guard.”
“Of course, sir.” The man’s smile disappeared as he placed the tin mug and the wet rag on the countertop. “Which maid?”
“The one with the red curls tending tables last night.” He scanned the room, but didn’t see her. Fortunately, Timber stood outside the back entrance, in case she made a run for it.
The bartender nodded. “That’s Masie. I hope she hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“No. I need to ask her a few questions, that’s all.”
He nodded and disappeared in the back.
Nathaniel tapped his fingers on the counter, ignoring the stares from the other patrons.
An old man sitting at the bar sipping the leftover stew from last night turned toward him. “Is it true the minstrels are leaving?”
Nathaniel nodded, keenly aware the conversations had quieted across the room. “The king and queen think it best with the recent raider attacks.” The less the populace knew, the better. He couldn’t have panic spreading like the plague of the undead.
The old man lifted his mug. “Good riddance. Those snobby finger-pluckers told my boy his butcher shop was an ‘extravagant show of brutalism.’” He intoned the minstrels’ words in the highest, haughtiest voice he could manage.
A chorus of shouts erupted across the tavern with people agreeing and telling their own stories.
“They told me I needed a bath.” A woman in the back stood.
“Yeah, well, I caught one of them sniffing my mother’s stew like it was dung,” called out a young man at a back table.
“Excuse me.” Nathaniel held up both hands until everyone quieted around him. At least the Royal Guard still had some authority. “Your future queen is a minstrel. From now on, any insult against them is an insult to the Royal Family and will be considered treason.”
Silence fell. Nathaniel settled into a seat at the bar as he reined in his irritation. Why did the insults affect him? He wasn’t a minstrel. He wasn’t even going to marry one. But they did. They pushed the dagger straight through to his heart.
The back door opened, and the bartender came out with Masie. Her apron dripped with dishwater. She stared at Nathaniel as though he would arrest her right there. He wished he could smile to alleviate her fears, but he wasn’t certain of her innocence.
“Come with me.” Nathaniel led her outside to a bench in front of the bakery. The sweet smell of baking bread permeated the air and the midday sun cast golden rays on the blue flowers in the window boxes. If only these were peaceful times.
Masie wrung her hands in her lap. Nathaniel couldn’t tell if her worried expression was guilt, or just fear.
“One of my soldiers witnessed you serving the young man who ran away last night.”
Masie nodded. “He sat at my table, sir.”
“Of course.” He tried a small smile. “Did you recognize him from anywhere?”
“No, sir.” She glanced down. Freckles speckled the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. It could have been just a coincidence she resembled the raider. But, he’d heard of some families who’d split, half their sons residing at the castle, and the other half chancing life on the outlying farms.
“You don’t know him?”
“No.” She bit her lip.
“I see.” Was that the same expression the boy had used when he’d refused to answ
er Nathaniel’s questions? “What is your family name?”
“Smith.”
Nathaniel sighed. There were a hundred Smiths all over town. “Did this boy say anything to you when you served him? Anything at all?”
“He ordered water, sir.”
“Water?”
“Yes.”
“You did not think it odd?”
“’Tis my job to serve the patrons without question, sir.”
True, yet from the looks of it, this establishment survived on tips, and no barmaid would serve anyone for very long with no gold in sight.
“Can I go back in, sir? I have to finish the dishes before the dinner rush.”
Dinner was half a day away. How many dishes could a single tavern have? Nathaniel touched his forehead, massaging his temples. “Yes, of course. Thank you for being helpful. You may go.”
After the sighting of the undead bird, Brax had ordered the back gate shut for good. Nathaniel’s search for the raider had come to a dead end.
* * * *
As Valoria entered the apothecary’s shop, a minstrel pushed by her on a crutch. Her countrymen had slings across their chests and others hobbled with canes. One man, a servant to her father, had a bandage wrapped around his right eye.
She grabbed a medic by the arm. “Excuse me. These men are deemed able to leave?”
“Commander Thoridian has given the minstrels two carriages to transport the wounded, my lady.”
“How kind of him.”
The medic smiled, as if unaware of her mockery. “He is kind, indeed.”
Kind enough to kick them out. Valoria found Echo propped on a pillow, reading a song of protection against enemies. If anything, she was glad to see him leave. At least near the House of Song he’d be safe. The undead would have to storm all of Ebonvale before reaching the bluewood forest. “Where you’re traveling, you will not need such tunes.”
Echo raised a gray eyebrow. “I’m not traveling anywhere.”
“Am I mistaken? Or have you lost your mind cooped up in this warrior’s excuse for a healing dome?”
Echo chuckled and rolled the parchment on his lap. “The medics have deemed me unfit to travel.”
“Helena’s sword! Are your injuries fatal?”
“Not even close.” Echo tapped on a different scroll near his arm. Valoria unrolled the parchment and read the notes. “This is an enchantment of façade. Have you been serenading the medics?”
He smiled wryly. “They love my voice.”
“Horred’s grave.” She collapsed on the side of the bed. “What if the undead attack? You are not in the condition to defend yourself.”
“I have a hunch I’ll be more use to you here than in the House of Song.”
“You’ll be no use if you are dead.”
He picked up a scroll. “I have my songs to protect me. Come.” He gestured for her to lean closer. “There are more serious matters to discuss.”
Valoria’s stomach churned as she moved closer. “What could be more serious than your health?”
A medic came by, bringing Echo a mug of water and asking if he needed anything. Echo waved him away.
Valoria pursed her lips. “I can see why you want to stay.”
“Never mind that now.” Echo’s gaze grew hard as stone as he placed the mug on the table to his right. “Braxten Thoridian is a proud, arrogant young man. He believes he can squelch this threat without the minstrels’ aid.”
“You do not need to tell me what I already know.”
“Watch him with a wary eye. As the sole minstrel at the castle’s back gate, you must make sure the undead do not break through.”
“He’s sent most of the minstrels home. What can I do all alone?”
Echo smiled fondly. “I heard your song during the battle with the raiders. It was you who turned the tide in our favor. Not Ebonvale’s Royal Guard.”
Valoria crossed her fingers together and glanced away. Fear resided deep inside her. Echo had no inkling of what she might have summoned that day and it did no good to speak of it now. “They fought nobly and bravely and we must not take that away from them.”
“It is you who fought nobly and bravely. You have become more than what I could have ever hoped for. ’Tis time I admit your abilities have surpassed my own.”
Valoria’s cheeks burned. Echo was the greatest minstrel in the House of Song. He had no rivals that even came close. “Come now, no one can trick a medic like you do.”
He wiggled a finger at her. “I do not jest. I have full faith you will save us, and I do not mean by marrying Braxten Thoridian.”
She teased him with a mischievous smile. “Does that mean I’m off the hook?”
“Sadly not. ’Tis a cruel fate, but not as cruel as the alternative.” He patted her hand. “I’d marry him myself if it would take the burden off your shoulders.”
Valoria laughed. “I do not think Brax will like you any better than he likes me.”
“Let us hope he likes you a lot.”
“Or at least a little.” Valoria sighed.
“Give him time. He may possess qualities we have yet to see manifest. And the same goes for you. He hasn’t heard you play.”
“Oh, please. No warrior here appreciates music the way we do.”
Echo smiled secretively. “You may be surprised.”
“Even if he does grow to like me even a little, Braxten Thoridian will no sooner allow me on the battlefield than in the council chamber room.”
Echo took her hand and squeezed. “So be it. But that doesn’t change the fact that you must find a way.”
Resolution hardened inside Valoria as she left her old music teacher in the apothecary’s shop. He would not leave her to the wolves alone. He would stay beside her, even if it meant tricking the medics with his music to do so. As long as he lived, she’d always have someone on her side.
Speaking of those on her side, Valoria spotted Nathaniel approaching the temple steps from downtown. What business had he in the city?
Nathaniel recognized her and increased his pace. He caught up just as she took the first step.
“Valoria, you should not be out alone. Where is your handmaiden?”
“Taking a nap.” She glanced at him with irritation. “And you are not my mother.”
“That is certain.” Nathaniel smiled slyly. “But it is not safe in this city for any minstrel to walk alone.”
“Because of all the hatred?”
He glanced away, as if deciding whether or not to tell the truth. When he looked back at her, his face was solemn, resigned. “Yes.”
“All due to Sybil running away with the minstrel years ago?”
“I am afraid so.” Nathaniel told her the truth of the matter—like Cadence. She was growing to love that about him.
“This morning, after the meeting, there was an old woman walking behind the queen. Was that Sybil?” She shivered, thinking of how the old woman’s fierce gaze had bored into her—seeing the raw nakedness of her heart unfold.
Valoria tripped, and Nathaniel took her arm. “Yes, it was. I am sorry no one introduced you. The commotion from the spies has upset our traditions.”
“That’s understandable. Although being left out of the meeting was not.”
“I have no excuse for that.” Nathaniel glanced at their feet as they stepped on one of the ancient, ivory steps from Helena and Horred’s temple.
“The excuse is not yours to give.” Her reply came out harsher than she intended, and Valoria looked away, watching a noble couple descend the steps on the other side, arm in arm, like her and Nathaniel. The only difference was that couple looked like they were married to each other.
“My apologies on the postponement of the wedding.” Nathaniel sounded sincere, but he seemed preoccupied watching the pigeons eat breadcrumbs sprinkled by a boy on the top step.
“No matter.” If only he knew how much she dreaded the wedding. “The kin
g and queen must focus on protecting Ebonvale. That is what is important now.”
“Spoken like a true ruler.” Nathaniel regarded her with pride. “You will be a magnificent queen.”
Valoria laughed and glanced down at her slippers as embarrassment heated her cheeks. “I cannot speak of any magnificence. I only want to be fair.”
“You will be more than fair. That I know.”
Chapter 9
History’s Lesson
Whips lashed, and the horses jumped into motion. The two carriages of wounded minstrels rolled down the cobblestone following ten men of the Royal Guard in their silver armor. The minstrels who could ride brought their trumpets to their lips. A fanfare echoed over the cobblestone and reverberated through the stone buildings. They played a song of farewell, wishing Valoria good fortune.
They might as well save their breath.
Valoria waved, portraying a resilient smile while deep inside, she mourned for the countrymen they’d lost, the growing threats on the horizon, and the horrid atmosphere of her new home. She could not show her sorrow to the minstrels. She had to give them a union to believe in, and a future to hope for.
A small crowd of villagers stood on either side of the procession. Woman held children in their arms and on their shoulders, and men brought their drinks from the local tavern into the street. A young boy carried a basket of painted wooden flutes, selling them at too high a price in Valoria’s eyes. The crowds’ feeble waves made Valoria wonder if they were here to support the minstrels or bid them good riddance.
At least Echo had stayed.
“I am thankful for your compliance on this matter.” Brax spoke beside her as he held up his hand to the final soldier. He wore his armor, like every other day of his life. Was he ever rid of it, or did he sleep with a helmet on?
Valoria stiffened. “You did not give me a choice.”
“There is always a choice.” Brax smiled, but it came across as self-satisfied. “You chose wisely.”
He meant she’d chosen not to complain. Frustration prickled her composure. Valoria crossed her arms over her chest. This could not set a precedent for the future. Brax must know she meant for this to be an equal partnership. She was not another servant to be ordered around.
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