by Tanya Bird
‘Where is he?’
The squire held his hand like a shield in front of him. ‘With the king in his chambers, my lord.’
‘Hiding you mean.’
Tyron marched back down the corridor and burst into the king’s chambers unannounced. He drew his sword and within a few paces he was standing in front of Pandarus with it flush against his neck. The surprise was frozen on Pandarus’s face. He did not move a muscle.
‘Have you lost your mind?’ roared King Zenas. ‘Put that sword away before I have the guards lock you up.’
Tyron’s sword remained where it was. Pandarus relaxed his face a little; however, small beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. Tyron spoke first.
‘Have you told our father about the gift you gave to our Zoelin guests last night?’
Zenas looked at Pandarus confused. ‘What gift? What in heaven’s name is he talking about?’
Pandarus swallowed against the sword.
‘Well?’ repeated the king.
Tyron spoke for him. ‘He handed over my Companion to those men to be raped and beaten. She is barely recognisable.’
Zenas fell quiet, disappointment on his face. ‘Put away your sword,’ he said, sitting down. ‘So this is about a woman.’ He shook his head. ‘These women are meant to provide you with company, let you blow off steam, not start family wars.’ His tone was flat.
Tyron withdrew his sword but kept his eyes on his brother. Pandarus relaxed, but he did not look away.
‘Are you suggesting I played a part in this? I requested the girl entertain our guests. She was not instructed to have sexual relations with them.’
‘By the appearance of her she was not given much choice.’
‘You have shown little interest in the girl, so I am surprised by your sudden concern. If it helps at all, I heard she was a great disappointment.’
‘Enough,’ said Zenas. ‘The women are under Fedora’s instruction when it comes to guests. Why were the Noble Companions not called upon to entertain?’
Pandarus shrugged. ‘I thought offering something more virtuous was a smarter approach. We are trying to build relations between our kingdoms after all.’
Tyron stared at his father in disbelief. ‘Are you hearing this? It sounds as though we are running a brothel.’
King Zenas closed his eyes and shook his head again. ‘Can we continue with more important matters please?’
Tyron turned back to Pandarus. ‘If any more harm comes to her at your hand, I will cut your throat.’
‘Enough,’ his father shouted.
Tyron put his sword away, bowed to the king, and left the room.
Chapter 21
During the warm season, the women could take their lessons outdoors. They would sit on blankets in the shade of the large cherry trees, books open on their laps, speaking of other things. Sometimes they would have their meals brought out to them and spend the afternoon eating apples and berries while exchanging stories about particular lords who took their fancy and those they tried to avoid. These conversations always took place in hushed voices out of earshot of Fedora’s excellent hearing.
When Aldara’s face had healed enough that it could be concealed with paint, she was permitted to leave her quarters for lessons only. She sat under the trees among the women and tried to block out their voices. Fedora left her alone for the most part as she paced around them, directing her questions at whoever was paying the least attention. Occasionally her eyes would drift over to Aldara. The events of that night had disempowered her since she had been unable to do anything to stop it. While Aldara had almost made a full physical recovery, inwardly she suffered. Nights were the hardest, lying in the dark replaying scenes in her mind, sweating beneath the blankets she refused to remove. She needed the weight of them.
One positive to come out of that night was that Aldara was not only allowed to once again accompany Sapphira to the butts, but she was also permitted to learn how to shoot. When Fedora noticed her reddened hands, she organised for a glove to be made. Aldara’s eyes welled up when she handed it over, but no words were exchanged.
Each day Aldara threw herself into archery as though her personal safety depended on it. Her progress both surprised and impressed Sapphira.
‘I hate what happened to you, but I like this new version of you,’ Sapphira said one day.
Aldara looked at her, puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Feisty. I suspect you carry a blade under your dress also.’
Aldara looked down the arrow and released it. ‘I don’t, but that is an excellent suggestion,’ she said, smiling. Time had brought more and more of such moments.
Occasionally Prince Stamitos and his guests would join them for a friendly competition. It was a way for Aldara to socialise again. The men who attended were young, good-humoured, and kind. Aldara felt comforted by their sobriety. And the fact that she was holding a loaded bow.
Stamitos reminded her of Kadmus. His mischievous nature and sense of humour brought her the closest she had come to laughter in many weeks. She enjoyed watching Sapphira with him; their playful banter entertained the entire group. She had witnessed a similar sense of humour in Tyron, though she suspected only those closest to him experienced it. She had not seen him since that morning, but she knew Fedora reported to him daily. Pero came for updates each morning, and Aldara would listen from the other side of the wall as he asked all the questions Tyron would have asked himself if he had visited her. ‘Is she sleeping and eating? Does she need anything?’
Yes, for the shame to stop.
Fedora would answer as positively as she could. ‘She rests often. Food is brought to her regularly. She has rejoined lessons.’ What Fedora would not say was that rest did not lead to sleep. Food was left mostly untouched. And Aldara’s mind was elsewhere during lessons. Pero would then take all of Fedora’s answers back to Tyron. For him to do what with, she had no idea.
One warm afternoon at the butts, Aldara was lying on her back in the grass, covering the sun with her hand and then opening her fingers to let it spill through. She was in a good mood, as she had slept the entire night, waking to sunlight and chatter instead of darkness she could not breathe through. Sapphira and Stamitos were laughing together nearby. The Companion Fedora had created was put aside during real moments like those. They were loud and unrefined, both forgetting that he was a prince. But they were happy. It was hard to imagine four children from one king could be so different.
‘Are you actually going to take your turn?’ Sapphira asked, waving the longbow above her.
Aldara lowered her hand and looked at her friend, whose face was flushed from laughter. She stood, brushing the grass from her lime-green cotton dress. She took the bow from her and wandered over to be in line with the target. An energy surged through her as she took aim, driving the arrow. It hit just above the bulls-eye. She lowered the bow, disappointed.
‘Ah, you’ve been getting more tips from Sapphira I see,’ said a smirking Stamitos. ‘An easy win for the lads today then.’
Aldara reloaded her bow. ‘Yes, it must be very satisfying for trained soldiers to beat a couple of self-taught girls,’ she teased.
Stamitos laughed. ‘Do not lose focus now.’
She took aim, this time hitting above her other arrow.
‘Is it possible I am getting worse?’ she asked Sapphira.
‘You need to lift your elbow a little. It’s dropping before your release,’ came a voice behind her. She recognised it immediately. When she turned to look at him, he appeared as he always did—handsome. And tired. He sat on his tall horse studying the target. She turned back to it also, reloaded her bow, lifted her elbow a little, and released. It missed again, and Stamitos and his guests laughed at her.
She turned back to Tyron and gave a small curtsy. ‘I am afraid I will not be of much use if the castle is attacked, my lord.’
They looked at each other for a moment.
That brutal morning was still there
between them, but Tyron was enjoying the sight of her healed and lit up in the sunshine. She wore a short-sleeved dress, and her arms were free of jewels. Her hair was out, and her feet were bare. Her shoes sat in the grass some distance away.
‘That’s not true,’ he replied. ‘Just aim for your attacker’s leg and you will pierce him straight through his heart.’
She laughed, and his entire body warmed at the sound. The bow swung in her hand as she walked towards him. His horse immediately lowered his head to her. She stroked his face and whispered into his soft muzzle.
‘You have never told me his name,’ she said, looking up at him.
The others had grown bored of their conversation and returned to their archery.
‘We only give names to pets.’
She looked up at him, sceptical. ‘I suspect you are playing down the relationship.’
It would not be the first time.
‘His name is Otus.’
Aldara smiled, satisfied. ‘Hello, Otus,’ she whispered. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Keen of hearing,’ he said, continuing to watch her. He could waste hours watching her. ‘Want to ride him?’
She looked up, face lit like a child. ‘Let me just lose the bow.’
‘Keep it,’ he replied. ‘I’ll teach you how to use it.’
He held out his hand to her, and she took hold of it and pulled herself up behind him.
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘I have discovered your secret to winning battles. You have a very unfair height advantage.’
They rode to the stables where Tyron had Loda saddled and sent a messenger instructing Pero to bring his bow and quiver. He filled water skins for them both and then took Aldara into the woods to teach her how to shoot while riding. He wished she was back behind his saddle, and then felt guilty for the intimate thought.
They walked under the cover of large trees, him pointing to various targets, her taking aim. She missed most of them, and they spent much of the afternoon trying to retrieve the arrows.
‘Perhaps I’ll be better if I am riding faster,’ she suggested, remounting.
‘No, you won’t.’
She pointed to a tree and kicked Loda into a slow canter. Releasing the reins, she lifted her bow, pulled back and released the arrow. She missed the tree by a great distance. Tyron said nothing as he suppressed a grin. She turned to him and was about to defend her miss, when a startled bird took flight from a nearby blackberry bush, causing Loda to leap sideways. Holding the bow threw Aldara’s balance, and she slipped from the saddle and landed with a thud on the damp ground. Loda did her the favour of only trotting a short distance away before turning to watch her.
Tyron dismounted and ran to her. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked when he reached her, eyes searching her body for visible injury.
She exhaled, remaining on her back. ‘No. Just humiliated.’
He pulled her up by the arm into a sitting position and sat down next to her. Her hair was full of leaves, and he watched as she began the tedious task of removing them.
‘Do you ever stay clean?’
‘Only for short periods.’
He wanted to kiss her at that moment. He remembered well how it had felt to be pressed against her—the heat of her mouth. But then he remembered her sitting in a tub of blood-tinged water. Her swollen wrists, imprinted with large fingers. He looked away, and she noticed.
‘I have dragged that night around with me every day since it happened. It is exhausting. At some point I would like to put it down. I cannot do it if I am reminded of it whenever I look at someone. I want to see the desire, not the pity.’
He looked at her again. ‘I’m sorry. I feel responsible. It’s guilt you see when you look at me.’
She shook her head. ‘Their actions are theirs alone. Their lack of manners…’
‘Lack of manners? You are being very kind.’
Aldara took a moment to think through what she wanted to say. ‘I have spent a lot of time feeling angry and afraid. It’s not sustainable. You warned me I was making a dangerous enemy in Pandarus, that there would be a cost.’
Tyron leant back on his hands and looked at her. ‘His actions surprised me. I wonder if he knew what he was doing when he handed you over.’
She suspected Pandarus knew exactly what he was doing, but the conversation was pointless now. She brought a dirty hand to Tyron’s face, and he leant into it a little.
‘I am a Companion, and we both know what that entails.’
He pulled back from her hand. ‘I was going to send you home when I returned. I had decided long ago it was the best thing to do.’
She rested her head on her knees. ‘Why did you wait?’
‘I believe you know why,’ he said, falling silent for a moment. ‘I know it’s been difficult and confusing for you here. I wish I had acted before those men took so much from you. What future do you see for yourself if you were to return to your family?’
Aldara folded her legs and placed her hands in her lap. ‘We both know there is no going back there now. The entire village knows where I am and what it means to be here.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I would like to stay here as your Companion. Of course, I would like to know what you want.’
He stared at her as he thought. ‘How am I to know if you speak the truth? I will not settle for Fedora’s version of you. Do you really want to be here?’
She reached up and touched his face again. ‘I did not want to come here. I did not want to be your Companion. That was my truth, right up until the moment I met you. Something changed that day. I know where this leads and I know where it cannot. Leaving here today will not erase what has happened. Or you.’
The tenderness in her voice made him swallow. She tipped her head forward and rested it against his shoulder. A few leaves drifted from the sky and fell into his lap. All of his apprehension was melting away in the afternoon sun that filtered through the trees.
Loda, becoming bored, walked off in search for grass. They reluctantly stood and retrieved their horses before making their way back to Archdale.
When they arrived at the stables, Aldara unsaddled Loda while the groom looked on in discomfort, and they walked her back to her stall together. They stood leaning against the timber door, watching her drink and checking her food container for grain.
‘Send for me tonight,’ Aldara said, without taking her eyes off Loda.
He nodded.
She turned to him to make sure he understood. ‘Send for me,’ she repeated.
He nodded again. ‘I will send for you.’
And he did.
Chapter 22
When Aldara woke in the morning, she was aware of his warm body behind her. She did not move because she did not want him to move. Perhaps she would never move. His sleepy breaths in her hair made her smile. Not quite a snore. She studied the arm that wrapped her, noticing each small scar. She counted a few freckles on his hand and then remembered that hand on her just hours earlier. And she remembered both of his hands with clarity.
She had been nervous on the walk to his quarters. The only experience she had was as an unwilling partner. They had told her she was a disappointment. They had told her lots of things. She had been a mess of nerves when he opened his door to her, studying her in an attempt to read her thoughts. When Pero had left them, she had thought she might be sick. He had touched her hair so gently she thought perhaps he had not touched her at all. He had leant in then, mouth to her, complimenting her on her clean state. She had laughed then—could not control it. He had kissed her neck while her head was tipped back, and then whispered words of reassurance into her mouth. She had been the one to finally slide her dress down her shoulders. If she had left it to him, it might never have happened. The rest had been easy, surprising, intense. She had not wanted it to end. But it did—several times. A familiar flush crept over her skin as she remembered.
‘Tell me you have slept,’ Tyron said, causing her to jump. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’
His arm drew her closer if that was possible. She turned to face him and his hands pressed against her back. She savoured the warmth of them.
‘Should I go?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said, kissing her head.
‘The other Companions usually return before the morning meal.’
‘The other Companions are not mine. Stay.’
The morning turned into afternoon, and no one emerged from his quarters. When the sun began to sink, Aldara said, ‘Fedora will be wondering where I am.’
They were lying face to face, their eyes closed as they fought sleep.
‘No she won’t,’ he replied, his hand resting on her hip. ‘If that woman wants to know something, she finds out.’
‘She’ll be cross with me for disappearing.’
‘She will be thrilled when her spies report where you are.’
They slept, and when they woke, it was dark and Pero was knocking on the door. He looked embarrassed when he entered, apologising profusely. Queen Eldoris was looking for Tyron. He sent Pero off with a vague excuse for his absence and told him to return with some food. They ate in bed, wrapped in linen.
‘Perhaps it is important,’ Aldara said.
He was rolling a grape across her stomach. ‘More important than this?’ he asked, releasing the grape a final time and opening his mouth to catch it.
Before it reached him, she snatched it up, threw it high into the air and caught it in her own mouth.
‘It’s the flag tournament all over again. Must you always win?’ he asked, trying to sound serious.
She laughed, and he wanted her again. She was not sure where he found the energy. Perhaps he siphoned it from her.
Afterwards, they fell asleep, limbs entwined. They slept properly this time, not stirring until the sun glowed in the sky. She woke first and pried herself free from him. By the time he was awake, she had finished dressing.
‘Don’t go,’ he said sleepily.
‘You are mad,’ she said. ‘You have an entire kingdom waiting for you.’
