The Royal Companion

by Tanya Bird

  They stepped out into the light snowfall, and she took the offer of his gloved hand. She was determined to make it back up the path without falling.

  ‘No harm will come to you or your friend at his hand,’ Tyron said suddenly. ‘His self-interest is a problem, but I don’t believe him to be a dangerous man.’

  ‘Of course not, my lord.’

  The Companion within her had returned. She was no longer free among the trees to say as she pleased. Once inside the castle he stepped away from her, walking in silence all the way to her quarters. They stood in the candlelit corridor, weighed down by fatigue and damp cloaks. Aldara’s nose was red from the cold, and her hair had long ago come loose. A few pine needles poked from it. He thought she was beautiful in that moment and was forced to look away from her. His feet did not move though.

  Fedora came out through the door and was surprised to find them standing there. Her eyes moved between them.

  ‘My lord,’ she said, curtsying. ‘Would you care to warm yourself by the fire?’

  Tyron shook his head and glanced at Aldara. ‘Thank you,’ he said, stepping away from her. ‘I hope you don’t catch cold.’

  Aldara curtsied also. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  He turned to leave but then stopped. ‘Actually, Fedora, there is one thing you can help me with.’

  She stepped forward. ‘Of course. What is it, my lord?’

  ‘I have heard a great deal about Aldara’s new-found artistic abilities. Could you please have one of her paintings delivered to my quarters?’

  Aldara did not know whether to laugh or beg him to take back his request. She glanced at Fedora, who was masking the concern on her face rather well.

  ‘Of course. I will have something sent immediately. Was there something specific the two of you discussed?’

  ‘Have Aldara select something,’ he said, glancing at her. His eyes were smiling.

  Aldara curtsied. ‘I hope it does not disappoint, my lord.’

  He nodded and left them. Aldara resisted the urge to watch him walk away.

  ‘Where on earth have you been?’ Fedora asked, once they were inside. ‘You left here looking like a Companion and return to me looking like a beggar. And you smell of horse.’

  ‘I don’t think Prince Tyron noticed or cared,’ she replied, stifling a yawn.

  Fedora took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face the door. ‘Go bathe, and thank God Prince Tyron does not have the choice of Companions that Prince Pandarus does.’

  Aldara was thankful for that. As she retreated to the warm water to thaw her bones, she realised her logical mindset was eroding. When selecting a dress to capture his attention, she had forgotten her armour. And Companions could not afford to be vulnerable.

  Chapter 13

  When Tyron arrived at his chambers, Pero informed him that Princess Cora was waiting inside. He hesitated at the door and thought about not going in at all, but sooner or later she would hunt him down. It was best to get it over with before the wine wore off.

  ‘Sister,’ he said. ‘To what do I owe the honour of this private visit at this ungodly hour?’

  When she did not respond immediately, he stood still and studied her. She was seated in the chair by the window, staring at the floor in front of her. The paint on her lips had long ago worn off, replaced with the stain of red wine. The paint around her eyes was smudged, making her appear sleep deprived. He knew by her state she had crossed into dangerous drunk.

  ‘Where have you been?’ she asked, not looking up.

  Her speech was sloppy. One sleeve of her dress hung down her arm, and she did not notice or care. He was far too exhausted for one of her drunken interrogations.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  She looked at him then. ‘Your whore,’ she began. ‘Please tell me she is for your amusement only and your good judgement has not been impaired as a result of too much time spent stranded with Pandarus.’

  Too much free time was not a good thing for a woman like Cora. She needed to be kept busy or else she became destructive. ‘Really, Cora, all this spite is ageing you.’

  She sat up and poured herself some water from the nearby jug. It was a miracle it did not spill from her unsteady hands. She lifted the cup to her mouth and then changed her mind and sat it back down. ‘Royal men having sex with women of inferior birth will never make sense to me. Teaching them to read does not change what they are.’

  ‘An interesting speech from you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You have loved a knight for as long as I can remember.’

  She picked up the cup again and took a small sip from it. ‘Leksi should not flatter himself with such thoughts.’

  Her charade was wasted on him. ‘I’m sure he gives it no thought at all. It is just the observation of the rest of the kingdom.’ Cora’s eyes flashed at him then. Although she had never loved anything more than herself, he knew Leksi was the closest she had come. ‘What do you actually want?’ he asked her.

  She sat up straight, moving as though it were painful. ‘I will not have our family made fools of by these women. A peasant farmer in a pretty dress should not be coming between two princes of Syrasan. You both embarrassed yourselves at the feast.’

  He remembered the gold dress. The golden hair. That laugh. ‘What is between Pandarus and I is years of bad blood fuelled by his need to beat me at all things. If you must scold someone, speak with him about his collection of women.’

  She stood and walked unsteadily towards the door. ‘Pandarus remembers they are just expensive whores. He beds them and moves on.’ She stopped at the door and leant against its frame. ‘He is indulging his overactive libido while he waits for the crown. I saw you with her tonight. I saw it all.’

  ‘I am sorry there were not more exciting things to keep you entertained.’

  Her face softened for a moment. ‘Do not embarrass yourself.’

  She pushed gently off the support beam and left him. Pero immediately replaced her in the doorway. He was holding a small oil painting in his hands.

  ‘Forgive me, my lord, but this was just delivered for you. What would you like me to do with it?’

  Tyron stared at it. ‘Bring it here,’ he instructed.

  Pero walked over and held the painting up so Tyron could see it in the poor lighting. ‘I believe it is the view of the stables from the castle, but I cannot say for sure. It is not entirely…clear.’

  ‘It is terrible,’ Tyron said, studying the amateur colour mixing and rushed application.

  Pero lowered it. ‘Shall I have it sent back?’

  ‘No. Have it hung on my wall.’

  The confused squire leant it against the wall before leaving him. Tyron collapsed onto the bed and stared at the painting. He did not undress, and he did not pull back the linen. The lit fire was making him sleepy, but Cora’s words lay with him. She was protecting her own interests of course, but she was right about one thing, he had lost himself to her. Like Pandarus, he had the ability to spend the night with a woman and move on from it the next day. What kept her from his bed was the knowledge he might not move on easily from this one. He struggled to leave a conversation with her. What would happen if he let her into his chambers, let her undress, and let his hands do as they pleased? He would have to regain some perspective and control. And the only way to do that was with distance between them.

  When Aldara returned from her bath, the first thing she noticed was Hali’s face. There was a red and purple bruise under her left eye. She was about to ask what had happened when she realised she already knew. A fire lit in her stomach as she sat down on the bed next to Hali and gently turned her head to study the mark on her face.

  ‘He does not get to treat you like that, prince or not.’

  ‘Of course he does.’ Hali’s face was puffy from tears and lack of sleep. ‘On the upside, I won’t have to see him again until it has completely healed. Fedora’s orders.’

  ‘So Fedora has seen this
?’

  She nodded, lay down, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. ‘He has changed.’ A few tears spilled across her nose.

  Aldara spoke quietly so as not to disturb those who were sleeping. ‘He has not changed at all. He is the same person he has always been. It is just becoming clear to you now.’

  Aldara’s father had never laid a hand on her mother, and she had loved him all the more for it. Drunken beatings were not uncommon where she came from. She had grown up seeing bruises like these on women all around Roysten. They were the actions of desperate and uneducated men. No one seemed to expect any better from them. But she wondered what the queen would think of her son buying women for his bed only to beat them when he needed to vent frustration. She lay down next to Hali and stared at the roof. What would the Prince of Mercy say in defence of his ill-tempered brother who was meant to pose no threat? Perhaps he did not know him that well after all.

  ‘What did Fedora say?’ she asked.

  But Hali was already asleep. Perhaps dreaming of home—a place where the smell of bread and the banter of family spilt out onto the road. No amount of dresses and indulgent food could substitute that. They could not afford to forget what was real and be swept up by the charade they had been sold into. And that was what was happening. Aldara was no different from Hali, forgetting herself as she was stripped of her good sense. Princes did not care for the women they bought. They did not marry daughters of farmers and raise half-peasant children together. They used them for as long as it suited them and then disposed of them.

  In that moment Aldara was forced to re-evaluate what she was doing. She needed to find a way to survive that did not rely on the whims of men.

  Chapter 14

  Aldara knew how to work hard, so that is what she did. Prince Tyron did not request her company, and she did not let herself wonder why. She was grateful. She told herself she was grateful. She told herself stories about how much easier it was and how the distance gave her more control. These are the things she told herself—so it would not hurt.

  Fedora did not speak of him, and Aldara took it as an act of kindness. She mended dresses, washed linen, scrubbed the floors and wooden tubs. She helped everybody else. She did no more paintings. In exchange for her hard work, she was rewarded with silence on the subject.

  Once Hali’s face had healed, she began to follow Aldara around the castle, observing her as she did chores, pretending to learn but actually just fulfilling her need for constant company.

  ‘I always wondered what mischief you got up to all day while the women play,’ she said deviously. ‘I have to admit, I am disappointed to discover no mischief at all.’

  ‘You could help you know,’ Aldara said, carefully loading firewood into her spare arm. They were standing outside by the wood pile, searching for dry pieces.

  ‘I was hoping to discover something scandalous. An affair with a handsome servant perhaps.’

  The snow had stopped falling, but the air was cold and the ground was turning to ice. Hali held her dress up to keep it dry while Aldara’s hem sat in the muddy snow that covered her boots.

  ‘Why? So you could see me beheaded?’

  Hali regathered the hem of her dress and looked at Aldara horrified. ‘No! So you could have some fun.’

  ‘Can you imagine what would happen to a Companion found sharing a bed with a servant?’ She kept adding logs even though she was already struggling with the weight. ‘Fun is for the rich. Anyway, who says I am not having fun? This is fun.’ At that moment the wood tilted in her arms and the entire pile tipped onto the wet ground. They both stared at the logs lying at her feet.

  ‘That does seem like fun,’ came a voice behind her.

  Both women looked up to see Prince Tyron in royal dress. Pero stood next to him. Hali immediately dropped into a curtsy while Aldara stood still. She had planned to put on her façade and exhibit all that had been hammered into her every single day since her arrival. Now he stood in front of her with his smiling green eyes and her mask was crumbling, leaving her exposed. His eyes remained on her, and she was surprised to feel a burn of anger in her stomach as she looked back at him. His complete disregard of her since that evening had wounded her more than she cared to admit. She forced herself into a barely acceptable curtsy.

  ‘What are you doing out here? Why do you insist on taking work from the servants?’ he asked her.

  Aldara bent down and began to pick up the wood. ‘I was raised with pigs, my lord. I enjoy the mud.’ She did not meet his eyes when she spoke, which showed complete disrespect.

  He noted her tone as he watched her re-stack the wet wood on one arm. ‘That wood won’t burn now,’ he said, crossing his arms in front of himself.

  ‘No, it will not. But I cannot leave it on the ground for the servants to fall over.’ She stood up then and looked straight into his eyes. His expression gave nothing away, and she feared hers gave far too much.

  Pero stepped forward. ‘You are forgetting your manners in front of the Prince of Syrasan.’

  Tyron held up a hand to silence him, watching Aldara swallow her feelings and try to take control of them. Her expression softened slightly. She knelt down and finished picking up the last of the wood before stepping aside.

  ‘I apologise for delaying you, my lord.’

  They looked at each other for a moment. He had informed Fedora she was not to socialise without his consent. He had made her an outcast of sorts.

  ‘If you are bored, read a book. You are not to move firewood. Is that clear?’

  The humour was gone from his voice. It was an effort for Aldara to keep her tongue still while her mind processed an appropriate answer.

  ‘Perfectly clear, my lord.’ She curtsied, determined to do it without dropping the wood again.

  He was about to continue past her when a guard came out of the laundry door dragging one of the maids behind him. The four of them watched as the woman was hauled towards them, pleading with the guard the entire time. As they got closer Aldara recognised the maid. It was Tia. Aldara moved towards them, but Tyron held a hand out to stop her.

  ‘Say nothing,’ he said to her.

  He walked towards the guard. ‘What is going on here?’ he asked.

  The guard stopped walking and nodded at Tyron. ‘My lord, I have been instructed to carry out the punishment for petty theft.’

  Tyron glanced at the woman. ‘What did she steal?’

  ‘Food from the kitchen, my lord. My orders come from Prince Pandarus.’

  Despite a glance of warning from Hali, Aldara let go of the wood and strode up to where they were standing. ‘I can vouch for this woman,’ she said. ‘She is no thief.’

  The guard’s eyes moved over her. ‘She has already admitted to the theft,’ he said, not happy with her interference.

  Aldara shook her head and looked at Tia.

  ‘You know,’ she cried to Aldara. ‘You know how it was. He couldn’t work.’

  Aldara’s eyes returned to the guard. ‘What is the punishment for petty theft?’

  ‘A hand,’ Tyron said quietly, unable to meet her eyes.

  Hali came forward then and took Aldara by the arm. ‘We need to go,’ she whispered.

  Aldara pulled her hand free and stared at Tyron. ‘You cannot let him do this. A desperate act does not make her a thief. She was feeding her children.’

  ‘Let’s go!’ Hali said.

  Seeing Tyron standing there so passively only made Aldara more upset. She turned to the guard. ‘Let go of her. If you take her hand she will never work again.’

  ‘Aldara,’ Tyron said, taking a step towards her.

  ‘No!’ Aldara said, stepping back from him. ‘I cannot pretend along on this.’

  Tyron blinked and turned away from her. ‘Pero, get the physician. Hali, take her inside.’

  ‘Please!’ Aldara pleaded, tears spilling over.

  Hali took her hand and began dragging her, with surprising strength, towards the laundry door. She shoved A
ldara through the door, closed it and leant on it. ‘Have you lost your mind?’ she asked, wide-eyed.

  She had. She had completely lost it. And the sound of an axe coming down finished her.

  Chapter 15

  Over the next month, Aldara moved like a mole through the castle. She avoided the great hall and the adjoining corridors, instead using the outdoor paths and servants’ rooms where possible. The thought of running into Tyron drove her outside into the cold winds. The plan worked well for a short period. She did not see one member of the royal family for weeks. But when the cold winds subsided, and the ice began to melt, an announcement came from Pandarus that he would be hosting a flag race in Pelaweth. All the Companions were to attend at his request. Flag racing events were typically held in the warmer months, but boredom was chaffing Pandarus. He had purchased a new horse that had been trained for tournaments and he refused to wait any longer.

  The races drew spectators and competitors from manors and villages all across Syrasan. It was an exhibition of the kingdom’s most skilled riders, as well as a chance for commoners to show off their best horses in hope of a sale. Everyone in attendance wore masks to keep identities concealed, a tradition that had begun forty years ago when King Zenas’s father decided to compete. He had instructed all of the riders to wear masks to keep his identity concealed and ensure an unbiased outcome. It was not long until spectators began to wear masks in keeping with the spirit of the event. Constructing masks was almost a competition in itself. Even the poor managed to create elaborate masks using old clothing and whatever they could scavenge from nearby forests.

  Aldara had never attended an event, but Kadmus had. He had described to her in detail the stretch of clean field, marked off with pegs and rope dyed red. Spears with coloured flags stood like soldiers across the grounds. It was a race against time. Each flag had to be retrieved in a specific order, one at a time, and returned to the barrel that stood by the timekeeper. While the princes did occasionally compete, it was mostly noblemen with insatiable egos.