by Tanya Bird
Her face was inches from his.
‘What about the blanket?’
He kissed her collarbone while his hands roamed beneath her dress. ‘I’ll be your blanket.’
At some point in the afternoon they retrieved the blanket. And at some point in the afternoon they both feel asleep wrapped only in the blanket and sweaty limbs.
The sound of something in the grass nearby woke Aldara. When she opened her eyes, still groggy from sleep, she saw Tyron looking at her, a finger across his lips instructing her to remain silent. She recognised the sound of footsteps slashing through the long grass. They were moving towards them. She lay still, watching Tyron mentally calculate the distance. When they were a few yards away, he reached across her and took hold of his sword. Just as the footsteps landed near them, he pulled the sword from its sheath, swinging it low across Aldara’s body. He pushed himself up with his free hand and turned so his torso remained a shield for her. His sword came to a stop at the throat of a terrified Pero, who stood palms out, looking at Tyron.
Tyron lowered the sword and moved off Aldara. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked her.
She sat up, holding the blanket around her while her heart pounded away in her chest. ‘Yes,’ she said, swallowing down her fear.
He turned back to Pero. ‘Are you trying to get yourself killed? What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I am sorry, my lord. The king needs to see you at once. This was the only place I could think of to search for you.’
Tyron put his sword away. ‘Fetch the horses.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ Pero said, before leaving them.
Aldara reached for her clothes and dressed as quickly as she could. ‘He could have called out,’ she whispered.
Tyron smiled at her. ‘Squires do not call their masters.’
‘Another rule I suppose.’
He finished doing his belt up and leaned over to kiss her head. ‘Yes, another rule. Some people follow them you know?’
‘I prefer to keep you guessing.’
He shook his head and raised his eyebrows. ‘I know.’ He slipped his tunic on and sat down next to her again. ‘I will send for you tonight.’
She kissed his mouth and then pressed her face into his neck. ‘And I will do as I am told.’
Chapter 24
Their informer stood with his body slumped. His arms were as lifeless as his eyes. He was waiting for their response. They all stood around him, silent and thinking. King Zenas was holding the back of his chair, staring across the empty table in front of him. Tyron began to pace, trying to process what he had just been told. Zenas lifted his chair a short distance off the ground and slammed it back down.
‘How many dead?’ he asked the informer.
The man straightened a little, but the effort was too much and his shoulders fell forward once again. ‘Fourteen men, Your Majesty. There are eight women and girls unaccounted for. My daughter one of them. She is only thirteen.’ He stopped speaking for a moment. ‘They left the older ones.’
Zenas tightened his hold on the chair. He turned his head sideways to look at the man, wanting more, but there was no more. ‘And no one has seen them since?’ he yelled. He was looking at his sons, wanting a different answer. ‘Armed men slaughter fourteen Syrasan men and ride off with eight women, some of them children, never to be seen again?’
No one spoke.
‘We have men all along the Corneo border. Where are they getting in?’
Tyron spoke up then. ‘They are not Corneon.’
Another slam of the king’s chair. ‘That much is becoming clear. So who are they? Are they Zoelin?’ He was looking at Pandarus.
Tyron walked over to the informant and placed his hands on his shoulders. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I pray that your daughter is returned to you. You can tell the people of Albus that we will be doing all we can to help.’
The man nodded. ‘So you will find them? Find my daughter?’
‘We will try to. I promise you that.’
The man turned as though burdened with sacks of flour and left without another word. He had been away, delivering wheat. His eldest son had tried to defend his sister with a shovel, and now he was dead.
‘The attacks are calculated, not impulsive,’ Tyron said once they were alone. ‘We are not searching for rapists here. The girls are being collected for a reason. To be sold perhaps. Syrasan girls are easy prey in remote areas where the men have no fighting skills to defend their families.’
Zenas finally had to take a seat. His eyes remained on Pandarus, and his sword rested on the table in front of him. He scratched at his beard where sweat was gathering beneath it. ‘We will need to send men to the larger villages to protect the people.’
Pandarus shook his head. ‘We haven’t enough men to protect all the villages in the North, and it would leave the castle vulnerable.’
Tyron was not surprised by Pandarus’s response. His first concern was always himself. ‘And what of the smaller villages?’ he asked. ‘Who decides which ones are worth protecting? The attackers will simply move on to the next village if they see our soldiers.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘That man’s son defended his sister with a shovel.’
Zenas exhaled loudly. ‘Well, these people live simple lives. Most of them are grain farmers with no weapons or training. Many do not even hunt as they survive on fish from the Lotheng. There has never been a need for them to learn to fight if they are not volunteering to.’
‘Until now,’ Tyron said. His mind was racing. ‘The answer is not to disperse our men among them. Instead, we empower them so they can defend themselves.’ He nodded as the idea took flight in his head.
Pandarus laughed. He took a seat opposite his father and crossed his arms. ‘Great idea, brother. Let’s give the peasants a sword each and let them fight our war. Some of these men are barely adequate farmers, but you expect them to become soldiers?’
Zenas was not laughing. He waited for Tyron’s response.
‘No, we have soldiers. What we need is a kingdom that is reasonably equipped to defend themselves and their families if the need arises.’
‘What exactly are you suggesting?’ Zenas asked, growing impatient.
Tyron sat down next to his father. ‘The provision of weapons and some basic training to every village. Manors will be responsible for weapons and training on their land.’
‘This is ludicrous,’ Pandarus said, standing up. ‘They will be fighting trained soldiers and die anyway.’
Tyron looked at him. ‘How do you know they are trained soldiers?’
‘Because they are not fighting with shovels,’ Pandarus snapped.
‘If our people are going to be slaughtered, at least let them die with a sword in their hand.’ He looked at his father. ‘We have nothing better to offer them at this point until we find out who is behind the attacks.’
Zenas was silent for a moment while he thought. The princes waited, each hoping for a different response. He stood with great effort and scratched at his beard again with both hands. ‘So be it,’ he said, picking up his sword. ‘Get it done.’
Pandarus threw his hands up. ‘We are giving them false hope.’
Zenas leaned over the table, finger pointed like a small sword. ‘We are giving them a chance,’ he shouted. ‘A chance to protect the people they love because we cannot do it!’ He lowered his hand and looked at Pandarus. ‘Get me some facts. Find out who is behind the attacks,’ he hissed. ‘And somebody tell Stamitos that the next time I ask my sons to meet with me, he better be here.’
Zenas stormed from the room and Tyron and Pandarus remained seated, looking at one another.
‘This is not enough, and you know it,’ Pandarus said.
Tyron nodded. ‘You are right. It will not be enough. Pray that we find answers and can offer them something more, soon.’
Tyron paced outside of the Companions’ quarters. Aldara was no doubt being forced to change into a more suitable dress before seeing him
. When she stepped out into the corridor, she seemed to know he was leaving. Her eyes studied him as she approached. He was having difficulty looking back at her, so he shifted his gaze down to the embroidery on the bodice of her purple silk dress, then to her bare arms that showed signs of being cold. When she stopped in front of him he reached out and touched her bare skin.
‘I hope you are not dressed in this for me. I would rather just see you warm.’
Aldara glanced at her arms. ‘You know I wear what I am told to wear.’
She looked behind her, nervous Fedora could hear them.
‘Let’s take a walk,’ he said, his hand returning to his side.
They went outside where the day was already coming to an end, strolling down to the stables where they fed old carrots to the horses. Tyron was silent for the longest time as they fed Otus. He could feel her eyes on him.
‘It’s as if the two of you are making plans,’ Aldara said. ‘Are you leaving tonight?’
He did not face her straight away. ‘Yes.’
‘Where are you going?’
He turned to her. ‘I’ll be gone for a while. It’s nothing for you to worry about.’ He leant forward and kissed her forehead.
She drew her eyebrows together. ‘Don’t do that.’
‘Do what?’ he said, pretending not to understand.
‘Treat me like a child and keep your adult worries from me.’
She was pouting, which was not helping her argument. He tried not to smile. There was no dismissing her.
‘There has been another attack in the North. We need to act as soon as possible.’
He told her as much as he knew, and she listened without interrupting. He told her of the plan—the sword smiths and artillators who would work day and night to produce what they needed for each village.
‘I have assembled a group of men to help with the training. We leave in a few hours.’
She bit down on her lower lip. ‘Can I come with you?’
He laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘No, you cannot. The safest place for you right now is here within these walls.’
‘I disagree. The safest place for me is with you. I can help you,’ she said, reaching out and taking his hand.
He pulled away. ‘With what? This is not some pleasant trip to the country. This is a fight.’ He surprised himself by raising his voice. ‘Do you think we are going to saddle Loda and just ride off to save the kingdom together?’ He felt too tall for her all of a sudden. Or she seemed smaller.
‘No—’
‘What is it you think you can help with? Your archery is average at best, and these people already know how to ride a horse.’
She flinched when he said that. Just a little, but he noticed. He immediately regretted speaking the words. He was not angry at her, he was angry at what was ahead of him. The only thing he wanted for himself was to know she was safe, and she was threatening that. But he said none of those things out loud.
When he could no longer look at her hurt face, he turned back to Otus. She remained still, no doubt trying to imagine what a good Companion would say.
‘I apologise,’ she said. ‘I did not think through the practicalities before I spoke.’
He hated himself at that moment. He was trying to make it easier to leave her, but it was not working. She placed a hand on the back of his head and felt his hair with her fingers. He turned into her hand, and the quarrel was over.
They went back to his quarters and removed their clothes in complete silence. His hands and mouth said everything he could not. Afterwards, he sat on the chair by the window, watching her doze while he forced down some bread with large gulps of water. Everything stuck in his throat. She opened her eyes and looked across at him, her lips spreading into a smile.
He watched as she dressed and sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do next.
When it was time for him to leave, they did not touch. Could not touch. His gaze swept the room before settling on her. Her hair was out—a tousled mess. He wanted to weave his hands through it again, but then he would never leave.
‘Well,’ she sighed. ‘You should go and teach your people all of your tricks.’ She tried to smile. ‘They are in good hands, my lord.’
He watched her, trying to find some words of his own, when Pero entered to tell him Queen Eldoris was waiting outside. He looked at her for a moment. No words came.
Aldara stood up. ‘Good day, my lord,’ she said, curtsying. She smiled at Pero as she passed him. Outside Queen Eldoris stood waiting. They stood a few feet from each other, both already missing him. Aldara dropped into a low curtsy. ‘Your Majesty,’ she said.
Eldoris nodded and walked past her into Tyron’s quarters. The door shut and the echo of it sounded up the empty corridor.
Chapter 25
The women sat under the cherry trees with blankets beneath them and on top of them. They were stretched out, books open in front of them, practising the language of Braul. It was a rare day of sunshine, a parting gift from the warm season. Aldara lay between Hali, who talked incessantly, and Sapphira, who was so far removed from the conversation she had not contributed one word. Idalia sat in front of them, one blanket over her legs and another wrapped around her shoulders. She was supposed to be helping the others but had long given up trying to teach them anything. Her book sat closed in her lap.
‘When can we expect to use Braul, anyway?’ Hali complained. ‘I have not met a man from Braul in the entire time I have been here.’
‘That’s because they are too poor to travel,’ said Rhea, smiling at her own wit.
Idalia had been ill with a persistent fever for almost a week, and Aldara could see her face was still flushed with it. Fedora thought fresh air might aid her recovery.
‘I met a Braulian man once,’ Idalia said. ‘And he was most impressed when I spoke to him in his own language.’ Her head was tilted back against the trunk of the tree. Her eyes had closed. ‘The day is cooling quickly,’ she complained.
‘No, the air is still warm,’ Aldara said, sitting up. She leant across and placed a hand on Idalia’s face. ‘You are burning hot. Perhaps you should return to bed.’
Idalia opened her eyes and glanced down at her clammy hands. ‘Perhaps I should,’ she agreed.
Aldara stood up and helped her to her feet, but she collapsed back to the ground with Aldara just managing to catch her. ‘Hali, go and tell Fedora we need the physician.’
Sapphira stood up and took Idalia’s other arm. Astra stood up also but did not move towards her. She looked afraid.
‘Is she really that ill?’
‘Seems that way,’ Sapphira said, glancing at Aldara and rolling her eyes.
They put Idalia straight into her bed. Aldara got a cloth and some cool water. She sat beside her, wiping her face and hair. Sweat beads reappeared within moments. They stripped her down to her undergarments in an attempt to cool her. Idalia shivered and complained of the cold before falling into a fevered sleep. They covered her with a blanket and waited for the physician to arrive. Astra sat like a clenched fist on the next bed, her normally smooth face creased with worry.
Fedora finally arrived with the physician trailing behind her. They all watched silently as he prepared to examine Idalia. He pulled the blanket back and Astra gasped. All eyes went to the blood-soaked sheet beneath Idalia.
The physician looked at Fedora. ‘Is she with child?’ he asked, his tone matter-of-fact.
Fedora shook her head, confused. ‘I am not aware of a pregnancy.’
Aldara knelt beside the bed and brought her face close to Idalia’s so she would hear. ‘It is really important you tell the physician everything so he can help you.’
Her eyes were closed, and she did not respond.
‘Yes, she was with child,’ Astra said suddenly. All eyes went to her. ‘She lost the baby a few days ago.’
Fedora stepped forward, forcing Aldara to move aside. ‘You lost the baby, or you ended the pregnancy?’ Her to
ne was firm.
Idalia opened her eyes for a moment. ‘I ended it. I had to. You know I had to.’
The physician shook his head. ‘What method did you use?’
She tried to focus on him, but she was too tired and her eyes closed again. ‘Pennyroyal and hot water did not work. I had to do it internally.’ Tears blended with the beads of sweat on her face.
‘My guess is the termination was incomplete. Now there is an infection,’ the physician said to Fedora. ‘I will send you some silphium, which may or may not help. It would have helped more a few days ago,’ he added. ‘I will return in the morning. There is little more I can offer at this point.’
Fedora nodded and thanked him. Once the physician had gone, she instructed Hali and Sapphira to help Idalia onto another bed so they could change the linen. They could not risk the maids knowing anything. She sent Astra to get clean undergarments for her.
‘Say nothing of this to anyone,’ she instructed.
‘Will she recover?’ Astra whispered.
Fedora looked at her. ‘You should have come to me about this.’ She was not angry—she was at a loss. ‘I would have helped her. Now we must wait and see what the physician says in the morning.’
Astra swallowed. ‘There is one more thing you should know.’
‘What is it?’
Astra glanced around to make sure the others were not listening. ‘This was her second pregnancy this year. The first termination was successful.’
Fedora said nothing as she processed the new information. They all knew Idalia had been ill a number of times in the previous months. She nodded. ‘Thank you. Now go get the undergarments.’
It was late in the night when Aldara eventually fell asleep next to Idalia, but she was woken a few hours later by the sound of her vomiting. Idalia lay covered in her own sick. She seemed completely unaware. Aldara cleaned her up as best she could without changing her clothes and then felt her head. It was cold despite a covering of sweat. She went to fetch Fedora, who rushed in and tried to rouse Idalia. Her breathing had become shallow, and she could not be woken. The other women began to wake, wondering what was happening.
