The Royal Companion

by Tanya Bird

  She laughed, and Aldara was surprised to hear it was genuine.

  ‘Hali and I remain seated for good reason,’ Aldara said. ‘We leave the entertaining to those with skill.’

  Lord Yuri placed his cutlery neatly on his plate and pushed it away from him. ‘Well, the art of good conversation should not be underestimated.’

  Hali smiled at him, a smile that Aldara had seen only on rare, private occasions. She suddenly felt like she was intruding on their conversation.

  ‘Any news on the princes?’ he asked.

  Hali shook her head. ‘We are not privy to updates, my lord.’

  Lord Yuri picked up his cup and looked into it. ‘I have no doubt they will both return in good health. It is a long journey, and bad weather can see travellers stranded in small villages for some time until conditions improve.’

  Aldara could have hugged him.

  ‘But let us hope they make it here before the snow sets in,’ he added.

  A week later the temperature fell, and so did the snow. The women sat silently by the windows, watching the grounds turn white. The overnight falls were heavy, and each morning the servants would wrap themselves in cloaks and trudge through the fresh covering, shovels in hand. They laboured to keep paths clear and accessible. Whenever Aldara took laundry down to the maids, she noticed the doorways had to be continually doused with boiling water to keep them clear of ice. It reminded her of the farmhouse, which was hazardous in the cold season. She could not recall the amount of times she and Kadmus had slipped in the doorway. Her more experienced father always managed to stop himself from going over, and of course, her mother was incapable of falling.

  One afternoon, Aldara asked Fedora if she should assist the laundry maids in the mornings since she had the time. Fedora agreed to it for the period the princes were absent.

  ‘It is freezing down there. Do not come back to me ill,’ Fedora warned.

  Aldara boiled water for them and used a shovel to keep the path clear so they could access firewood without injuring themselves. Her hands had softened over the months she had been at Archdale, and they blistered on the first day. But she found that the physical work improved her ability to fall asleep at night, though she still woke early, with each day looming ahead of her. So she got up and shovelled snow.

  One week into her gruelling morning ritual Fedora noticed the state of her hands during their morning meal. ‘For heaven’s sake,’ she said, grabbing hold of her wrists. ‘Do you listen to anything I say? Your hands are to touch only meals, books, and the inside of gloves until they are completely healed. Do you understand?’

  Aldara found some red leather gloves in the dressing room and went back to work. The other women thought she had lost her mind and barely engaged with her. But not Hali. She viewed Aldara as a form of entertainment. One day when they were keeping each other company, Hali had asked her what she hoped to find underneath all that snow. The sun, she thought.

  One morning, Aldara was standing with a shovel at the laundry door, working up the courage to step through it, when she heard a woman crying. Tia, one of the maids, had her face buried in the linen she was meant to be pressing.

  ‘We may need to rehang that,’ Aldara said. ‘What’s the matter?’

  Tia brushed away her tears and began folding. ‘It’s my husband,’ she said before another sob escaped her. She put the linen down and covered her mouth with her hand to stop the noise. ‘He is ill. There is a sound when he coughs, the same sound I heard from my father right before he died.’

  Aldara picked up the linen and began to help her. ‘What has the physician said?’

  Tia laughed. ‘That he needs rest. He is out there shovelling snow. The man should be in bed, but we cannot survive on a maid’s wage.’ She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘We have two of our own children to feed, along with my sister and her three. Her husband died at the border. She takes care of our children while we work. That is how we all get to eat.’

  Aldara placed a hand on Tia’s arm and thought for a moment. ‘There are plenty of indoor chores that need tending to. Perhaps he can move indoors to work so he is out of the cold.’

  Tia looked at her. ‘The same three men shovel those paths every day. They don’t come in until the paths are clear.’

  ‘Perhaps I can replace him,’ Aldara said.

  Tia stared at her for a moment. ‘You will not be permitted.’

  ‘We won’t tell anyone. No one out there in this weather will be asking questions.’

  Aldara could hardly see the men through the snowfall. The thick cover on the ground hugged her knees and filled her boots. She waded through it, dragging her shovel behind her, glancing back to ensure Fedora was not watching her from a window. Where was the path these men were supposedly clearing? She paused and glanced about while the snow bit her face. She had let her hair out for extra warmth, but it was not helping. When she reached the men, her eyes moved up the path and back again. ‘This seems a bit pointless,’ she said into the icy wind. No one could hear her; their ears were tucked under thick hats. They looked up only when one of the men began to violently cough, pausing to watch before continuing. Aldara walked over to him and tapped his shoulder.

  ‘Your wife needs to see you,’ she said. ‘I am here to relieve you.’

  The man’s red, swollen eyes moved over her. ‘Who sent you?’

  ‘You are needed inside,’ she said again. She thought she would leave the explanation to Tia.

  He hesitated before trudging off towards the castle, head slumped, chest wheezing. Aldara ignored the glances from the other men and dug her shovel into the snow, tossing the load a good distance behind her. The wind erased her efforts. She had only been shovelling a few minutes when the men stopped and laid down their shovels. She watched them, wondering if they were finished. It was not until they bowed that she figured out someone was approaching. When she spotted men on horseback, their faces shielded by scarves, she curtsied as best she could. Hooves padded the snow in front of her, the horses grunting with their efforts. One of them stopped, and she looked up, recognising the exhausted gelding. The shovel in her hand dropped to the ground. A frost-covered Prince Tyron stared down at her. He lowered his scarf, revealing chapped lips and a concerned expression.

  ‘What on earth are you doing out here?’ His voice was hoarse.

  ‘Helping,’ she said. ‘How was your journey, my lord?’ Her eyes moved down his body, checking for visible injuries.

  ‘Longer than expected.’ He gave a weak smile. ‘Go inside. It’s cold.’

  She nodded towards his horse. ‘He has returned you safely once again.’

  Tyron glanced down at the frosted mane. ‘Yes.’

  Pandarus was a few yards ahead and swung his horse back around. ‘When you are done catching up with the servants can we please get out of this weather? If I arrive without you, father may not let me in.’

  Aldara did not look at Pandarus. She kept her face buried deep in the hood of her cloak. Tyron nodded at his brother and clicked his tongue to move the gelding forward. His eyes returned to her though, taking in the sight of her matted hair and blue lips. Aldara curtsied and stared at the shovel by her feet. Her heart was pumping extra blood through her body, providing extra warmth. She had made a promise and had no choice but to resume working. When she glanced over at the stables, she saw a frowning Pero striding towards her, his body angled against the wind and his hands ungloved. She stopped shovelling when he stopped in front of her, wiping snow off his ear.

  ‘You are to return to your quarters,’ he said.

  He spoke loudly and the servants looked over at them. Her eyes went to the stables. The princes had already disappeared.

  ‘I have permission to be here, helping.’

  He shook his head. ‘No, you don’t. His lordship wants you inside now.’

  She glanced at the men who were watching her and then stepped closer to Pero. ‘One of the servants is very ill. If I leave, he will be for
ced to return out here.’

  His expression softened a little. ‘You have to go inside.’

  She nodded and followed him. He took the shovel from her as they walked. Once they were inside the laundry room, she stripped off her wet cloak and gloves and handed them to Tia, who glanced nervously at Pero.

  ‘I hope you’re not in trouble on my account,’ she said.

  Aldara touched her arm. ‘No one is in trouble.’

  Tia’s husband was slumped by the stove, still in his coat. When he coughed they all looked at him.

  ‘Keep him here,’ Pero said to Tia. ‘I will speak with his lordship.’

  Pero escorted Aldara all the way to the Companions’ quarters. He said nothing when he left her. She watched him scurry away and then walked into the main room. It was empty, a rare treat. She spent a few moments shivering in front of the fireplace, brushing her hair with her fingers and drying the skirt of her dress. Once she was presentable, she went in search of Fedora. Fedora’s private bedchamber was a curtained-off section of the bedchamber. On her way there, she found a robed Hali seated on her bed with a broad smile on her face.

  ‘So you have heard the news then?’ Aldara said, stopping next to her.

  ‘Yes! All the women are preparing for the inevitable feast. You should get ready also.’

  Astra and Panthea walked in, collected their robes, and left without a glance in their direction.

  ‘Has it actually been announced?’ Aldara called to their backs.

  ‘No. But it will be,’ Astra said. She did not seem pleased. ‘And it will be a long and messy evening.’

  When they were out of the room, Aldara looked at Hali, who shrugged at her. She grabbed her own robe and followed after them. As she stood shivering by the occupied tubs, she found herself waiting for Fedora to appear, waiting to be told to assist the others and then get an early night. By the time the others were finished, the water was not hot enough to defrost her. She stood by the warm stove, willing the water to boil. When she finally made it to the dressing room, Fedora was nowhere to be seen. She laid out dresses, did hair, painted faces. Waited. Helped the women dress and select jewels. Waited. Fedora arrived just as Aldara had run out of things to do. She nodded approvingly at the women, all except Aldara, who was still in her robe with her hair drying to one side.

  ‘There will be a feast to celebrate the safe return of Syrasan’s princes and the amicable outcome of their journey into Corneo. This is a celebration of peace,’ Fedora said.

  The announcement was a formality. The women were ready to depart.

  Fedora’s eyes swept over Aldara. ‘Get dressed. You will be attending also.’

  Aldara exhaled.

  Fedora stepped closer to her. ‘The prince will be seeking warmth after his cold journey.’ She spoke quietly. ‘Choose your dress accordingly.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  Fedora left them, and Aldara looked over at Hali, whose face mirrored her own relief. It was time for her to be truly seen. If it was warmth he needed, then she would become the sun.

  Chapter 12

  When Tyron left his father’s chambers, fatigue weighed down his legs and arms. He struggled to walk the distance to his quarters. The outcome of the long journey was best described as a delay of a war that would one day take place. Negotiations had been slow and hindered by Pandarus, who was unwilling to compromise on anything. They had eventually agreed to trade a small amount of grain in exchange for skins and furs they did not need. Pandarus had called it charity. Tyron had told him he could call it whatever he liked. Pandarus had insisted no food leave Syrasan during the cold season. Tyron reminded him their food grew on land that was King Nilos’s by birthright, and if they did not agree, they would be forced to fight or starve.

  ‘We shall all starve if we continue to give away our food,’ Pandarus said.

  ‘We can increase our supply from Galen if need be.’

  Pandarus shook his head. ‘People can barely afford to buy it at the current price. Who is going to pay for it to be transported?’

  ‘I suppose we will.’

  ‘And that is why I am in charge of the gold.’

  The marriage of Zenas to Eldoris had been for the sole purpose of securing an alternative food supply. Everything grew in Galen. The entire kingdom seemed to flourish beneath blue skies and gentle showers. They also happened to have an army twice the size of the Zoelin army, though no one knew what their soldiers did, as they had never fought a war in the time Tyron had been alive. They could afford to maintain their values when their bellies were full and their young were thriving. Meanwhile, Corneo and Syrasan were prepared to kill one another for a bit of grain.

  While the negotiations had slowed their return, it was the flooding in Corneo that had prevented them from leaving. They had found lodging in a village close to the border, a village scarred by the death of many Corneon men a few months earlier. The people there had reluctantly provided beds and soup for the men at five times the going rate. The soup was salted water containing only horse meat and potato. There were no herbs in it, no bread served with it. They took it without complaint. Even Pandarus remained silent on the matter. The women served them without speaking, watching them with suspicion from a safe distance. Tyron’s men took no chances, sleeping with their swords and taking turns keeping watch.

  The heavy rains turned the roads into dangerous mud pits. When the water level dropped, progress was slow. The rain was followed by heavy snowfall, and they were forced to stop once again just inside the Syrasan border. By the time it eased, Pandarus had fallen ill after spending the night with a woman in the village. The stomach ailment was so severe they were forced to remain there for four days before he was strong enough to ride again. Soon after, two other men became ill. Tyron decided to quarantine the group in a village two hours south of Minbury. He didn’t want to take a contagious illness into Archdale and put others at risk. It turned out to be a sound decision as Tyron and Leksi fell ill a few days later. By the time they mounted their horses and rode out of the village, they had been gone for months.

  Tyron moved his thawing limbs down the corridor towards a hot bath. Pandarus’s suggestion of a feast had come as no surprise. What came as a surprise was Tyron’s willingness to attend. When Pandarus had suggested all the Companions attend, he had found himself nodding in agreement. The reason was simple—he wanted to see her again.

  He woke much later than he had planned. Cold food sat on a tray by his bed. He sat up and grabbed the bread, swallowing it down with a few mouthfuls of water. After a wash, he got Pero to trim his hair and beard to a more acceptable length. He dressed in the clothes laid out for him, marvelling at Pero’s ability to carry out chores around his sleeping body. He was still buttoning his tunic as he left for the feast. It occurred to him he was rushing. Never had he rushed to a feast in his life. His pace slowed only when he reached the noise.

  Queen Eldoris missed nothing at social gatherings. She saw every drunken display and every conversation in every dark corner. She knew the Companions by name, who they belonged to, their talents, and their tactics, though she made a point of never saying their names aloud. She knew Pandarus continued to bed most of them, and Stamitos could not wait to. She was aware of every moment her husband spent with Idalia, and was painfully aware of the fact their relationship was not only sexual, but something more. He had found friendship and had grown to trust her in a way one trusts a spouse. She had told herself Idalia would eventually be replaced like the others before her. She was wrong.

  Tonight she watched Pandarus drink too much, too early in the evening. She resisted the urge to say something as she knew it would not change the outcome. He cared only for the opinion and approval of his father. At least Tyron and Stamitos allowed her to be their mother. Cora cared for no one’s approval. Elders glanced to Eldoris’s right, where Cora was seated next to her. One of the few things they had in common was she too watched the room with great interest. Particularly Leksi, w
hom she had watched since she was ten years old.

  ‘Tyron has finally made an appearance,’ Cora said, signalling to the door.

  Eldoris’s gaze swept over the unruly crowd and spotted him immediately. She watched as the noise threatened to push him back through the open door. She held her breath, willing him forward. The guests were long done with eating, and they were either dancing or filling their cups. Tyron looked at her, and she offered a small smile, hoping to encourage him in some way. It was the first time she had laid eyes on him since his return, and she wanted to hear his voice. He made his way towards her. She stood and waited for him to navigate the people between them. But soon his feet stopped moving. Something had caught his attention.

  She followed his line of vision to where a young girl stood a few feet from where Astra was playing the harp. Her hands rested lazily across her arms as she watched the performance. She was a collection of gold, from her immaculate hair right down to her jewelled shoes. She was lit up like the sun. Eldoris could almost feel the heat from her.

  ‘Who is that?’ she asked Cora, already knowing the answer.

  Cora followed her gaze. ‘Pandarus’s gift to Tyron,’ she said, sounding bored. ‘Fresh off the farm. How have you not seen her before?’

  The queen shook her head. ‘I have. But not like this.’

  She looked back at Tyron, who still had not moved. By the expression on his face, she was no longer an unwanted gift.

  He did not make it over to her. From the moment he saw Aldara standing alone, radiating light, he saw nothing else. She had not noticed him enter the hall, so he watched her for as long as he could get away with doing so. He watched her exposed back, which was crisscrossed with embroidered silk, and the backs of her arms when she applauded at the end of the song. He watched the fabric move against her hips. When Aldara turned and saw him, her painted lips move into a smile.

  Aldara was about to take a seat when she saw Tyron standing alone, watching her. His stillness contrasted the crowd crashing about him. She smiled at him because it was her role to do so, and because she could not help it. Once he realised he had been seen, he nodded in her direction. She began walking over to him, allowing her arms to fall by her side and moving at a pace that had been dictated to her since her arrival. When she reached him she curtsied. ‘Good evening, my lord. Would you like to sit? You must be exhausted.’