by Tanya Bird
‘We can do better than this,’ he said, panting. ‘Please, let me walk you back, and I promise you I will send for you as soon as I can.’
She was still collapsed against the wall. The snow had melted in her hair, and it clung to parts of her face and neck. She did not want better, she just wanted more, and now. But the rules of decency forced her to stand upright and fix her dress. She ran her fingers through her messy hair, pulling it free from her face. It should have been up. ‘Of course,’ she said.
She walked beside him to the entrance of the Companions’ quarters. Their manners were impeccable. When he left, she went straight to the bathing room and scrubbed her body until it was pink all over. She washed her hair, twice. She did not wait for instructions from Fedora because he had given his word. He would request her. And she wanted to be ready.
‘What about this one?’ Sapphira asked, holding up a light blue silk dress.
‘No,’ Aldara said. ‘It’s not enough.’
Sapphira suppressed a laugh. ‘I have never seen you like this. I’m almost blushing from the energy coming from you right now.’
‘I have no idea what you mean,’ Aldara said, scanning the dresses. ‘This one.’ She pulled out a ruby-coloured dress that showed more flesh than it covered.
‘He is going to be a very lucky prince tonight,’ Sapphira said, crossing her arms in front of her and smiling at Aldara.
By the time Fedora found her to advise her of the prince’s return, she was dressed, her face painted, and her hair had been smoothed into a slick knot. Fedora ran her eyes over the dress. She seemed surprised by the bold choice, but she nodded her approval. Aldara still had to wait—and the wait felt eternal. Darkness covered the castle as the evening meal was served to the women. Astra took one look at Aldara in her dress and seated herself at the other end of the table. Aldara did not notice the envious stares of the other Companions. She could not even eat. She sat, then she stood. She watched the doorway. Finally, Pero arrived with a note for Fedora, who took her time reading it before turning to look at her.
‘Prince Tyron has requested your company,’ she said, visibly pleased. ‘Pero will escort you.’ Before she had a chance to rush off, Fedora turned her around and told her to fetch a cloak to wear for the walk. ‘We do not want a scandal,’ she said.
Aldara grabbed the first cloak she saw and wrapped it around her. When she turned back around, Astra was standing in the doorway, looking at her.
‘I remember when Idalia wore that dress to the king’s birthday feast. It was his favourite gift of the evening.’
Aldara glanced down at the dress. ‘I can change if you would like.’ She did not want to fight about a dress, she just wanted to leave.
Astra shook her head. ‘No. She would have enjoyed seeing you look this good in it. She wanted you to succeed here.’
She swallowed, unsure what to say.
‘Off you go,’ Astra said, her tone hardening. ‘Better go and remind that prince of yours what he has missed.’
When Pero saw Aldara he pretended he had not just glimpsed what was beneath the cloak. She said, ‘Good evening,’ and he nodded before walking on ahead of her, all business. When they arrived at Tyron’s chambers he gave a small knock on the door before opening it and letting her through.
‘Thank you,’ she said to the closing door. She had some work to do in winning him over.
Tyron stood up from his chair and stood there, looking at her. She could tell by his eyes he had not slept yet, but he had washed and trimmed his hair and beard. Neither of them moved for a moment. She reached up and unfastened her cloak, keeping her eyes on him as it slid off her shoulders and dropped to the floor. His weight shifted from one foot to another as he took in the sight of her—the hair, the painted eyes, the silky lips. That dress. The dress that showed an indecent amount of milky skin all the way down to her navel. The dress with the open back that sat just above her buttocks. The dress which he could surely remove with the slightest gust of breath.
‘If you have planned for us to go riding, I might need to change,’ she said, helping him.
He laughed. ‘Otus has seen you in less.’
A laugh from her, his undoing. No need for more words.
Neither of them could have predicted their physical response to one another. The combination of relentless and insatiable made for a long night. It was Tyron who unwillingly surrendered to sleep just before daylight reached them. At first, Aldara was careful not to wake him, but soon she discovered he could not be woken anyway. Exhaustion had taken hold of him, so she waited beside him, occasionally checking to see if his heart was still beating. It was. She kept her head pressed against it listening to life beat inside of him.
Just before noon, Tyron woke with a start. Aldara, who had finally fallen asleep herself, jumped also. When he sat up to take in his surroundings, she could see a shine of sweat on his forehead. She took hold of his arm and gently pulled him back down to her. His body was rigid, and he did not touch her.
‘Did you dream?’ she asked him.
For a moment, Tyron thought he could smell smoke and propped himself up on one elbow. He looked down at her concerned face and tried to remember what she had asked him. Dreams. He did not want to speak about his dreams. How could he? He had dreamed of her, crouched on a road in a blood-soaked dress. He had watched as she was dragged away by her hair through the thick smoke. Now he was sure he could smell the smoke, and he was having difficulty breathing.
Aldara, seeing that he was struggling with his breath, propped herself up next to him. ‘We are both safe here,’ she said, placing a hand on his face.
When he looked at her, there was frenzy in his eyes. He pulled away and sat up, trying to focus on familiar items in the room, which sometimes helped to calm him. ‘I learned yesterday that Idalia passed away.’
He looked at her then, but he had to blink away the vision of a dark hand around her neck. More sweat beads formed on his face.
‘She was with child. There was an infection after the loss.’ When he said nothing she continued. ‘Your father came to her bedside. She could not be helped. Too much time had passed. Only Astra had known about the pregnancy.’
Tyron became still suddenly, as though listening for something.
‘What is it?’ Aldara asked.
He raised a hand to silence her, hearing the thunder of hooves. He guessed around fifty horses. ‘Can you hear that?’
Aldara sat up, slowly, holding onto the sheet. She had no idea what she was listening for, but she remained silent for a while, observing him the entire time. ‘I cannot hear anything. What is it you think you can hear?’
‘Horses. They are here.’
He stood up and began searching for his clothes. She reached out to take his hand, and he grabbed hold of her wrist. ‘Listen,’ he hissed.
She remained still and calm, her hand limp beneath his grip. ‘No one is here,’ she said, keeping her voice quiet. ‘Give yourself a moment to wake up properly. No one is here.’
All Tyron could hear at that moment was the thud of his own heart amid the tinker of castle life. It was happening again. His demons had returned. He looked at her, naked, vulnerable, and completely unafraid of him. That angered him because he was capable of killing her with one hand and no weapon. ‘I think you should leave,’ he said, slipping his pants on.
Aldara pressed the sheet against her chest. ‘Why?’
‘You are forgetting yourself. I don’t need to give a reason. Get dressed.’
She watched him, sweat dripping from his face as he wrestled with his shirt. ‘No.’
He stopped still and looked at her. ‘Excuse me?’
‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I won’t leave you when you are feeling like this. When I know you are all right, you can send me away.’
He stepped up to the bed, fists clenched. She remained still, looking straight at him.
‘Get dressed,’ he said again.
She reluctantly slipped from th
e bed and picked her dress up off the floor. ‘I’ll dress, but I am not leaving you.’
His hands wiped his face and then linked on top of his head. He had not been prepared for her defiance. He had not been prepared for any of it. ‘I decide when I want to see you. You do as you are told. That is how it works.’
His words made her stop and look at him. ‘What has you so afraid right now? Talk to me.’
‘You need to leave.’
‘No!’ She walked over to him and put her hands on his face. ‘Tell me what is happening.’
He pushed her hands away, harder than he had meant to, but her feet remained anchored to the floor. ‘I’ll have the guards remove you if I have to. Then I’ll have you sent away, like Hali.’
Aldara flinched as though she had been slapped by him. ‘Stop it!’ she pleaded. ‘I understand you are afraid right now, but don’t say things to me you don’t mean.’
He went still then, looking at her wounded in front of him. He had done that to her. ‘I just need you to leave.’ His voice cracked as he spoke.
She rushed forward and wrapped herself around him. He remained still, looking down at her as she cried against his bare chest. After a long struggle with his shirt, he had not even managed to put it on.
‘I love you,’ he thought she said. His eyes closed. It was his mind playing tricks on him again.
She was looking up at him, eyes pleading.
‘I am not afraid of you. Let me stay with you while you battle your demons, the way you would if they were mine.’
He opened his eyes and looked at her. The sound of hooves had disappeared. The smoke had vanished. He had pushed her away, yelled, hurt her, and still she clung to him. His hands went on her then, around her, lifted her, so he could breathe her in.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered into her skin.
He had given his physical self over to her months earlier. That afternoon, in a coil of sheets, he shared his mind, in its darkest form. She listened as he spoke, as he cried, heart bleeding for him but face poised. Pity would have destroyed him at that moment, and she wanted him to share every broken piece of himself. She felt powerless, unable to help or heal him.
He told her more than he wanted to and more than he was permitted to. When he was depleted of thought and unable to speak any longer, he slept. She did not. She watched over him, willing away dreams that might wake him. He slept for hours, unmoving, aside from the odd twitch. And she lay next him, stomach empty, heart full. At some point during the night he opened his eyes and looked at her.
‘I love you,’ he whispered before his eyes closed once again.
Epilogue
Whenever Aldara woke alone in a cold bed, her first thought was always of Hali. Grief would rumble inside her, fresh as though it had happened that very morning. She had no idea how to grieve the living. It did not ease or get better with time. The chance that she might still see her one day kept her hopes high and the affliction raw.
She sat up and looked around, already knowing the room would be empty. Where was he at this ungodly hour? She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and collected her dress from the floor. As she was slipping it on, she knew there was a good chance Pero was outside. Someone was always watching over her.
She walked barefoot across the icy floor to the door, opened it just enough to poke her head through, and saw Pero, seated at his small table, quill in hand.
‘What are you writing?’ she whispered.
He looked up, visibly disappointed he had not heard her sooner. ‘Just thoughts,’ he said, pushing them away as though they meant nothing to him.
She often found him writing. When she had asked Tyron about it, he had told her they were stories. She had loved the idea of a knight in training preferring to write stories. ‘I would like to read those thoughts one day,’ she said, stepping through the door and crossing her arms in front of her.
Pero looked at her, ignoring the comment. ‘His lordship is training.’
His face was almost sympathetic.
She nodded and looked away. ‘What for is the question,’ she said, eyes returning to him. ‘How does he seem to you?’
‘What do you mean?’
She tilted her head, like one does to a child keeping secrets. ‘You know exactly what I mean. Should I be worried?’
He stood up and walked over to collect the tray of food sitting near the other door. ‘My guess is you are already worried.’
She looked at the tray of food in his hands. ‘Is that for me?’
‘Yes,’ he said, offering it up to her.
‘I can source my own food. You needn’t have troubled yourself.’
He pushed the tray closer to her. ‘Please just eat it. His lordship wants you fed. If it were up to me I’d happily let you starve.’ He almost smiled at her.
Aldara took the tray from him. His jokes indicated he might be finally warming to her. ‘Very well,’ she said. ‘Then, I am going to the butts.’
He sighed because he was expecting her to say that. ‘My orders are to keep you here.’
‘Just tell him we fought it out, and I won,’ she said, turning to go inside.
‘He’ll have my head if he thought I laid a hand on you,’ he called after her.
The door clunked shut behind her. She would worry about Pero later.
The air was so cold Aldara felt a stabbing pain in her chest with every frosty breath she took. She padded through the fresh snow, Tyron’s tracks already erased in front of her. The fog was so hazardous she found herself counting the familiar trees to navigate her way through it. For a moment she wondered if she should have told Pero the truth and brought him along. Then she remembered how much trouble he would get in and reminded herself the lie was for his protection. ‘Just going to bathe. I will be back before he returns,’ she had said, casually walking past his suspicious gaze. She had expected him to follow her, that is why she went into the Companions’ quarters and stood inside the door until he was satisfied and left. The other women were never up that early, so she could afford to linger about until it was safe to leave.
The clapping of wooden swords stopped her feet. She listened for him. And there it was, the sound of his efforts. How they did not accidentally kill each other she had no idea.
She stepped carefully, pausing behind a tree, trying to locate him amid the eerie light. It did not take them long to step into view, two men with beaten shields and wooden swords, moving about one another as though their lives were at stake. Her chest tightened as she glimpsed him through the fog. Where were the rest of his clothes? He was stripped down to trousers, boots, and a shirt that clung to his wet body. His opponent was tiring, barely getting his shield up in time to block the blows. Tyron seemed oblivious, emitting noises that made Aldara colder than she could have imagined. When his opponent, exhausted, collapsed in the snow, she waited for him to stop. It was only training after all. But down came his sword, blow after blow, while the fallen man cowered beneath his shield. She came out from behind the tree then, walking towards him, willing him to stop. She had intended to watch him awhile and then slip away unnoticed, but now she was afraid for the man beneath the shield, and she was afraid for Tyron, who was lost in his imagined rage.
She was just a few yards away when she heard the man say, ‘I am done, my lord. I yield.’ But Tyron did not seem to hear him. ‘My lord!’ the man shouted again, clutching the shield with both hands in an effort to steady it.
Aldara broke into a run. ‘Tyron,’ she shouted. ‘The man yields. Stop.’
Tyron stopped, went still, and looked at her. He was out of breath, his entire body covered in sweat to the point there was visible steam rising from him. He seemed confused as he glanced at the sword in his hand, as if noticing it for the first time. It fell at his feet, and he took a few wary steps back from it.
Aldara was shivering, her mind racing with fear. ‘My lord,’ she said. ‘Help the man up and we will all go inside.’
The man lowered h
is shield with caution and stared up at Tyron, trying to recognise him amid the sweat and fury. Tyron was beginning to understand what had happened. Aldara could see the change in his face as he came back to them from whatever dark place he had been. He did not help the man up. He looked only at the ground and walked away from them both, straight past Aldara, who knew better than to reach out for him as he passed her. She glanced at the man in the snow who was struggling to get to his feet, depleted of all strength. Then her eyes returned to Tyron, just as the fog swallowed him.
She had handed herself over to him, willingly this time. And he had made the choice to keep her, giving of himself whatever he was able to. They were joined by their grief, demons, and love. The only two choices she had was to bring him back from his hell or slip away with him.
I really hope you enjoyed the first book in ‘The Companion’ series. Aldara and Tyron’s story continues in book two, The Common Girl—available now. You can read a sample at the end of this book.
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