The Royal Companion

by Tanya Bird

  Pero left to follow out the orders. Aldara could not find her voice. Her gratitude was choking her. She stood with one hand on Loda and the other pointlessly holding her filthy dress off the wet ground. She stared at the mare and blinked. Tyron watched her struggling to hold her emotions together. He had one hand on Loda and the other by his side. It was Kadmus who found some words on Aldara’s behalf.

  ‘Thank you, my lord. She is very appreciative. She rides much better than she speaks.’

  ‘Much,’ Aldara agreed, turning her face up to him.

  Tyron looked away from her shiny eyes. ‘No need to thank me. You won her. That was the agreement with Pandarus.’

  Kadmus brushed her cheek with his lips and squeezed her shoulder before following after Pero. The crowd had quietened and was beginning to disperse. The noble guests had refilled their cups and were talking among themselves. Food was being served before their long journeys home.

  ‘I can escort you if you would prefer to ride the mare to Archdale,’ Tyron offered. ‘I suppose the offer of a saddle is offensive to you?’

  She laughed. His new favourite sound.

  ‘It is much more fun without one,’ she said. She sprang onto the mare’s back and held out her hand to him. ‘I’ll show you.’ When he did not move, she retracted her hand. ‘Sorry. I forget myself sometimes.’

  It was one of the things he liked most about her. He took hold of Loda’s mane and hauled himself up behind her. The mare sprang sideways in surprise, and Aldara squealed. All eyes were on them then. Common, noble, royal.

  ‘Go,’ he said, attempting to hide behind her. That only made her laugh more. She clicked her tongue, and Loda moved into a canter, weaving through wandering spectators until they were free of them. They did not slow until they had made it out of Pelaweth, away from the people and busy roads.

  For a few moments, they were free. But it was just an illusion.

  Chapter 16

  The sound of Loda’s walk was the most relaxing noise in the world to Aldara. The combination of rhythmic hooves and Tyron’s body heat made her eyes heavy. When Tyron noticed her head drop, he spoke up.

  ‘Please tell me you are awake. I have no stirrups or reins back here.’

  Her laughter was laced with fatigue. ‘Perhaps we should find some cold water to throw over me.’

  ‘You could definitely do with a wash.’

  Another laugh.

  They were riding alongside farmland, where new grass was pushing up through the icy surface. Sheep stopped grazing to watch them pass. Aldara spotted a well among them, not far from the road.

  ‘Water,’ she said, stopping Loda.

  Tyron dismounted and then held a hand out for her. She took it and slid down to the ground.

  ‘You will need to wash that now,’ she said, glancing at his hand.

  He was inspecting his tunic. ‘Thankfully your back was clean.’ His eyes returned to her. ‘You really are a mess.’

  ‘Fedora is going to drown me in the bath when we get back.’ She turned towards the well. ‘What are our chances of getting water without being caught?’

  He suppressed a smirk. ‘I think we’ll be okay. Wait here with the mare.’

  ‘Be careful,’ she called after him. ‘I was literally chased by a farmer with a pitchfork once for crossing his property on horseback. If we are caught stealing their water supply, we may hang in their barn.’

  He turned to look at her standing on the edge of the road in front of a giant horse, nervously searching their surroundings. A smile tugged at his mouth. She really did forget he was a prince sometimes. Farmers did not chase him. They bowed before him as he took what he needed from them. ‘I’ll be sure to keep my wits,’ he whispered loudly back in her direction. Only once he had turned away from her again did he allow himself a grin.

  The sheep fled as he made his way through the muddy paddock towards the well. As he lowered the pail, his eyes sought Aldara. He found himself doing that a lot lately. It was some distance before he heard a crack as the pail broke through the thin layer of ice on top of the water. When the rope began to creak from the weight of it, he turned the large wooden handle and hauled it back up. As he was untying the pail, he thought he heard shouting. When he looked up, he saw an older man running towards him, waving his fist and shouting profanities. Tyron stood still, waiting for the man to recognise him. He was a few feet away from Tyron when he noticed the royal emblem displayed on his arm. He stopped running, an expression of concentration on his face.

  ‘A knight?’ he asked, confused.

  ‘A prince.’

  The man dropped to his knees, his eyes on the ground. ‘My lord, the water is yours, and whatever else you need.’

  Tyron stepped forward and lifted the old man to his feet, the soggy knees of his woollen pants clinging to his legs. ‘Thank you. I only need the water.’

  The man glanced nervously at the road. ‘Is the girl with you also, my lord?’

  Tyron followed his gaze and saw a man holding Aldara by the arm. She was shouting at him as she tried to free herself. Tyron took off at a run and reached them in seconds.

  ‘Release her,’ he shouted at the young farmer.

  The older man arrived a few moments later, breathless. ‘Please forgive us, my lord. We did not know.’

  The young man panicked when he saw Tyron and released his grip on Aldara. She fell forward, and Tyron caught her and returned her upright. He gently pushed her behind him with one arm.

  ‘I’ve seen pigs handled with more care than that,’ he said to the younger one.

  ‘So sorry, my lord. She didn’t look like…she was travelling with you.’

  Aldara placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

  Tyron turned his head and stared at her. ‘Something funny?’

  She glanced between the men. ‘He has a point. I look like a beggar. There is not a man alive that would believe I am travelling with you.’

  His eyes swept over her and his shoulders dropped. Her vulnerability terrified him.

  The two farmers retrieved the water for them and then left them alone. Tyron insisted Aldara drink first. When she was finished, he had a drink himself and then took his handkerchief from his pocket, wet it, and handed it to her. Aldara crouched by the pail and washed her face, neck and hands. She let out her hair and wiped at the clumps of mud as best she could. Black feathers floated down to the ground around her. When she was done, she wrapped her damp hair into a bun and secured it with the comb again.

  ‘It’s a good thing I wore black,’ she said, looking down at her dress.

  When she had finished with the water, she rinsed the handkerchief and placed the pail in front of Loda to drink from. Tyron stood still and tense, watching her. She stepped up to him to hand him the wet handkerchief, and he surprised himself by catching hold of her wrist. She was waiting for him to say something, do something, but he released her, took a step back, and glanced down the road.

  ‘We should leave before we run into any more of your farming friends.’

  Aldara laughed, and his eyes returned to her. He was not a reckless man, but all sense left him in those moments. She stopped laughing when she saw his expression and swallowed.

  ‘What is it?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing. Let me help you up this time.’

  She glanced at the empty pail lying by his feet. ‘I just need to return the pail to the well.’

  He blinked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘It won’t take me long,’ she said, scooping it up.

  He caught her by the arm again and the strength of his grip made her entire body pay attention.

  ‘Just to be clear, you are going to return the pail to make life easier for the men who would have done God knows what to you had I not been here?’

  She looked at him, confused. ‘I am going to be courteous to the farmers who gave us their water.’

  And there was that expression again—thoughtful, conflictual, but this time he did n
ot let go of her arm. She did not move. The pail fell from her hand, and she turned her head to watch it roll along the ground. Tyron pulled her close and slid his spare hand up her neck. She stared up at him, and then his mouth was on hers. He let go of her wrist and pressed his hand into her back so she was flush against him. Her entire body softened under his grip.

  Aldara could barely breathe beneath the weight of his hands. The heat coming from him made her shudder in the cold. She had no idea if her feet were on the ground. Just her toes. She freed one of her hands that was crushed against his chest and found the side of his face, pulling herself up to him. She did not want him to stop. When a puff of hot breath hit the back of her neck, her eyes snapped open, and she squealed into his open mouth and pulled back from him. He immediately released his grip on her. She turned around and Loda’s muzzle found her face.

  Tyron stepped back from her, trying to steady his breathing. ‘She’s jealous.’

  He seemed to be at a loss as to what to do with his hands, so he leant on his knees, watching as she stroked the mare’s face before placing a quick kiss on the tip of her muzzle.

  ‘There is no chance I will go back for seconds now,’ he said.

  She laughed and there was that expression on him again. He looked as though he were about to pull her to him again when the sound of approaching horses made him turn around. Some wagons were making their way along the road.

  ‘Soon the royal wagons will pass and we will have to face the judgemental stares of my family,’ he said. ‘I would prefer to face them one at a time—and later. Let’s go,’ he said, wrapping her waist with his hands and lifting her up onto the mare.

  She sat behind him for the last part of their journey, hands on him, and her forehead occasionally resting on his back. The air was cooling quickly, and Tyron wanted to give her his tunic to wear beneath her cloak. She laughed off the suggestion.

  ‘I’m going to be in enough trouble. If I return to Fedora wearing men’s clothing, I won’t be permitted to go anywhere ever again.’

  When they arrived at the castle, they watched the portcullis rise in front of them. Neither of them wanted to go in, yet both of them had to. Tyron reluctantly moved Loda forward, their pace slow until they reached the stables. A groom rushed out, surprised to find the prince sharing a horse with no saddle. He ran off to get a stool for Aldara. By the time he came back Tyron had lowered her to the ground and was standing next to her.

  ‘How was your saddle-free experience, my lord?’

  They were inside Archdale, so the formalities returned.

  ‘I may never sit again. Or produce children.’

  She smiled at him, and they both watched the groom take Loda off to a stall. She was too tired to protest being handled by a stranger.

  ‘Will you send for me?’ Aldara asked quietly.

  He looked back at her. ‘That depends. Will we have separate horses next time, with saddles, like normal people?’

  He did not want separate horses, and she had not been talking about going riding, but they said nothing more. They walked in silence up the path towards the castle, and then they stood outside of the Companions’ quarters, hands by their sides, stretching the time. It did not take long for Fedora to discover them. She came out of the door and stopped walking to take in the sight of Aldara. Not a muscle moved on her face.

  ‘Good afternoon, my lord. How was the tournament?’

  ‘Eventful,’ he replied, eyes on Aldara. ‘I will let you get cleaned up,’ he said to her.

  The women curtsied and waited for him to turn the corner of the corridor. Fedora turned to face Aldara.

  ‘Have you been socialising with pigs?’ she asked without humour.

  Aldara sighed, inwardly. ‘No, my lady.’

  Fedora’s arms were folded and her lips were pressing together. She was showing restraint. ‘Then why are you covered in mud?’

  Aldara would have explained, but Fedora did not even let her speak.

  ‘Never mind. I have heard enough from the messenger. I cannot bear to hear it again.’ She sighed outwardly, a forbidden gesture. ‘You are endangering your life with these defiant acts. And you are endangering the lives of the other girls as well.’ She paused to let her words linger between them. ‘The last thing we need is a very powerful prince with a vendetta against the women he bought to worship at his feet.’

  ‘I don’t worship at his feet,’ she replied.

  Fedora uncrossed her arms. ‘Yes, that is why we have this problem. What concerns me most is he is also aware of it. Your actions show a lack of understanding of your situation.’

  Aldara said nothing.

  ‘Go clean yourself up,’ Fedora snapped, showing a rare glimpse of anger. ‘You better hope Prince Tyron sends for you tonight, because you need to be in favour with at least one prince right now.’

  Those words remained with Aldara as she walked to the bathing room. She replayed them in her mind as she washed. Then she replayed them for many nights after, as Tyron did not send for her.

  Chapter 17

  Tyron stood in front of his mother and tried very hard to look at her. All of that disappointment in her eyes was making it difficult.

  ‘My son,’ she began. ‘I am worried about you. It is not like you to be distracted from your responsibilities. I want to talk to you about the girl.’

  Tyron could have predicted the script exactly. Not much passed his mother’s observant eye, especially when it came to her children.

  ‘Your concern is unnecessary.’

  He walked over to the table and poured himself some water from the jug. Eldoris tried a more direct approach.

  ‘You have not taken much of an interest in these women before, and suddenly you are riding off on horseback like a rebellious ten-year-old. Actually, I am not entirely sure you would have behaved that way as a ten-year-old.’

  He laughed at her. ‘It was not an act of rebellion. I went for a ride with a girl.’

  She studied his face. ‘Not a girl. Your Companion.’

  ‘Does the title matter?’

  ‘I am trying to understand your relationship with her.’

  He was trying to understand that himself.

  ‘History is full of great men who have been undone by ordinary women. I am simply cautioning you to be careful and not throw away the respect of your kingdom.’

  ‘She is not ordinary.’

  It just came out of him. Fuel to the fire. When he looked at his mother, he saw pity and disappointment. Pity. He took another drink so he could stare into his cup.

  ‘If you think it is love, it is not,’ she said. ‘If you believe there is any kind of future with her, there is not. If you are hoping for a different outcome than the inevitable one, then you only have to look to your father to see what is ahead for you both.’ She waited a moment to ensure he was following the conversation. ‘Is that what you want for her? In a few years she will be barren and lonely, watching you live your life while her own slips by.’ Pity filled her face. ‘I do not wish ill upon these women, but there is a reality to their situation that needs to be faced.’

  ‘I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I told you she was different from the others?’

  ‘On the contrary, it can be the only truth. I cannot imagine any other reason you would be so foolish with your heart.’ Her tone was not unkind.

  Tyron looked at her. He wanted to argue the point, but there was no argument in what she was saying.

  ‘She did not want to come here. She would have remained happily poor.’

  ‘Those women…’ She thought about what she wanted to say. ‘The Companions’ entire lives are dedicated to making men feel and think like that. They are trained to be desirable in whatever form is appropriate for that person. That girl has been custom made just for you, so it is natural you feel this way. If she was Pandarus’s Companion she would be different again. Suddenly you would have a woman who shares his love of sports, expensive things, and bedchamber antics.’


  Tyron could not imagine Aldara as Pandarus’s Companion, nor did he want to.

  Eldoris stood up, keeping her eyes on her son. She fought the impulse to touch his face, knowing better than to trespass in his personal space.

  ‘I am not saying you should not take a Companion. The tradition stands—for now. Rather choose a Companion you can guard your heart against. I am about to have this same conversation with Stamitos, who has just followed in the footsteps of his father and brothers.’

  Tyron shook his head. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He bought a Companion at the tournament today.’ Her tone was mournful.

  Tyron tilted his head. ‘You think we are the bad influence? Men have been buying women for their beds for centuries. The tradition existed in Corneo long before Syrasan flew its first flag.’

  ‘I am aware of our history,’ she reminded him. ‘It is just that Stamitos is a kind boy with a big heart. I fear he is trying to buy love and will not be able to differentiate the two.’ She touched his shoulder briefly as she passed him. ‘The decision on her future is yours to make. You are smart, so make a smart decision that benefits both of you. The time for a true companion, a wife, will be decided by your father when a suitable match is found. This too is the way it has been for centuries.’

  ‘It is also the reason why the tradition of a Companion came about. If you want marriages of convenience, you are expecting your sons to live their lives with closed hearts.’

  She stared at him. ‘And what of my daughter? This is not a problem only for men.’

  Tyron looked away. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘I am trying to protect you. And your heart most of all. Open your heart to the right person. If this girl does care for you, which she may do, the pain for her will be far worse. She will have nothing after you. No one. No prospects of any sort. If her virtue is intact, there are still other possibilities for her.’

  She slipped from the room, leaving Tyron to stare at the empty doorway. Her words remained stagnant around him. She had spoken complete sense, truths that were clouded by Aldara’s sunlit presence and golden laughter. End it, a simple resolution for everyone. He could send her somewhere where she would be safe from his world. It hadn’t really begun, which should have made it simpler still. Liar. It had begun long ago—the moment he had seen her stumbling down the path towards him.