by Kyra Gregory
Gyles shrugged his shoulders. “No,” he replied, frankly.
Lukas nodded in understanding. He got to his feet, approaching his horse, feeding it the remainder of his apple before he returned to his place on the ground, slumping with an apparent exhaustion. “Did the Queen send you to look for him?”
A tricky question with no right answer, Gyles thought. If he said said yes then Lukas could assume that he was a boy of some worth, potentially putting him in harm’s way. If he said no, it could lead Lukas to never tell him where he was, to decide that this was all a waste of time and that they should return to the castle in Evrad and deal with matters of greater importance to Queen Sybelle. Frankly, with the troubles Lionessa was having, Azurian ships potentially blockading their ports and stifling trade, he could hardly blame him for thinking that there were matters of more importance to the Evrad Kingdom. After all, an enemy of Lionessa was now an enemy of Evrad.
“No,” he replied. He chose honesty. It wasn’t too difficult. Between two evils, it only made sense to choose honesty. “He’s of no relation to the Queen,” he said.
Lukas’ brows furrowed together but he didn’t persist in asking questions about the boy. For that, Gyles was thankful. “You said that you’ve known the Queen for a very long time,” he remarked.
“Ever since we were children,” he said. Lukas had been nothing but patient with him. He was a good-natured man, that much he’d decided, and it was, Gyles imagined, the only reason that he allowed himself to spill such truths to him with very little thought.
“You’re of noble birth?” Lukas asked, his voice filled with surprise.
“Goodness, no,” Gyles scoffed in reply, “there’s nothing noble about my blood.”
Lukas chuckled, amused by his dismissal of the concept. “Then how are you so blessed to have known Her Majesty for so long?”
Gyles’s eyes narrowed. He had no doubt in his mind, now, the more they spoke, that the man had no bad intentions. Even so, he wouldn’t give in to his questioning without something in return.
“Tell me,” he started instead. He shifted to get comfortable against the tree, putting the thoughts of Dreyny’s little brother out of his mind for a moment longer. “Why is it you know so much about slavery and service agreements?”
Lukas scoffed, his lips tugged into a permanent smirk that seemed to be tinged with painful memories. “Do you really need to be told?” He, too, shifted where he sat, trying to find comfort against the harsh bark of the tree and on the rock-laden ground that they sat on, as though to make up for the unease he felt inside himself at being prompted on such a displeasing thought. He hung his head, visibly biting the inside of his cheek. “My uncle was raising me,” he started, slow at first, “but he couldn’t afford to raise me for very long. He spoke to a man about getting a service agreement, getting me working for someone who could afford to keep me.” With his gaze transfixed on the ground, unable to tear it away and risk blatantly showing Gyles what he could already see, he continued, “He paid a price for me and took me for himself. Only, he had a debt that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, pay, and all his assets, including me and others he’d bought as part of his business, were claimed instead.” He cleared his throat and threw his head back staring at the sky, “I became a servant in the castle, serving the soldiers, usually.”
Gyles felt a twinge of discomfort in his chest. He knew from his own position in Lionessa that servants tending to the soldiers and palace guards were not always the most well-treated. They were the lowest in ranking of all the servants, having to persevere through long, tiring shifts of numerous guards, tending to their needs at all hours of the day. And because they had such erratic schedules, often awake for hours upon hours and eating in the dead of night when no other servant was awake, there was hardly ever anyone to notice their plight.
“The first five years were tough,” Lukas said, his voice strengthening. “After all, there are no perks for a lowly-servant. But I showed promise as a fighter and that meant I got fed more and had my strength built up so that I could join the guards instead.”
Gyles nodded and the faintest hint of a smile forced itself onto his lips, “You did well for yourself,” he said, in a far tenderer voice than he’d thought himself capable of, “I know it’s not easy to make it into such a position.”
Lukas chuckled, looking at him, “It must not have been too difficult for both of us to have succeeded at it,” he said. “And it’s not just you and I,” he added. “However much he may be a traitor, Deros Bonomo did well for himself; first as Count and Captain General of the Kingdom of Evrad and, now, as whatever title he may have beneath the Lionessan and Evradian Queen.”
Gyles forced himself onto his feet, placing his hand against the withering bark of the blackened tree. “I suppose he has,” he said, sighing. “Let’s continue moving,” he said, his voice low once more.
Lukas stood up and went to untie his horse, “You still haven’t told me how you got to know the Queen so well,” he said.
“She took a liking to me,” he replied with ease, matter-of-factly and sparing him the details. “We struck up a friendship when I first started to serve her family.”
“And her family allowed such a thing?” Lukas asked, wide-eyed. “They allowed a friendship between a commoner and a future Queen?”
Gyles smirked, “The Late Queen had just given birth to a baby boy. She was not to be Queen, as far as they were concerned, until years later when they realised that it was unlikely their son would be fit to be a King.”
“You speak as though that justifies the friendship between a common servant and a woman of noble birth,” Lukas retorted, laughing as he brought his horse to trot alongside Gyles’s.
Gyles couldn’t help but laugh, licking his lips as he nodded in agreement, seeing his point. “She was a rebellious child, this Queen, and I’m sure that her father allowed our friendship solely because I was the only person who could protect her that she didn’t run from.” Silence fell upon them and Gyles didn’t miss the look of confusion out of the corner of his eye. He said nothing of it but he knew, just knew, that Lukas wondered why Gyles had left such safety, all in favour of a boy of little worth to anyone but himself.
Eventually, arriving in a place where space between homes was greater, with fields and people pottering about, Lukas jumped off his horse and took the reins in his hand as he walked. “Keep an eye out for the kid you’re looking for,” Lukas said, casting his gaze about.
Gyles needn’t be told. As soon as he’d put together that ten of these young people, all dressed in the same light cream clothing with a brass band tight around their forearms, he knew that they were just where they needed to be. Even so, he didn’t see anyone that fit the description that Dreyny had given him. After all the time he’d spent, telling others what this boy looked like, he realised that he himself had very little idea on the matter. He knew the boy’s partially-blind eyes were of two magnificent colours, blue and green, and that, last Dreyny had left him, he had a mop of dark brown hair. He was small in stature, not all too different to Dreyny, but slightly more so, having left Dreyny to assume that he would be used mostly for work in the home, perhaps the kitchens.
As though Lukas read his mind, Gyles was thankful to see the guard making his way up to the front door of the home, one that didn’t look to have been entirely unmarked by the fires, after tying up his horse. Gyles leapt after him as the door opened, subduing himself only when Lukas shot him a dirty look. The front door swung open and, much to Gyles’s disappointment, a petite servant girl was standing there, staring at them with large eyes. “How may I help you both?” she asked, politely, after looking from Lukas to Gyles.
“We would speak to your Master,” Lukas said, casting his gaze elsewhere from the girl, a disapproval in his eyes that Gyles couldn’t help becoming curious about.
“He is not here at the moment,” the servant said, eloquently. “However, my Lady is here,” she added quickly, eager to please
, “if that suits your needs, of course.”
“We would see your Lady then,” Lukas agreed.
The servant nodded and then stepped away from the entrance, opening the door wider to allow them inside. She hurried, quick paced, down the large entryway and went to inform her Lady of the guests, leaving Lukas and Gyles to cast their gazes around the lavish home. It was almost entirely untouched by the darkness that war had brought their country. The home was far from modest, decorated in ways Gyles had only seen in great halls in palaces. The furniture was of the finest quality, undoubtedly as comfortable as they looked inviting. In the centre of the room, a round table was covered in fresh flowers and fresh fruit, sitting out in the open with nobody there to devour it, a testament to the wastefulness that the wealthy were capable of.
The servant soon returned, ushering them inside to meet with the Lady of the house with a smile. The woman whose name Gyles didn’t think to get, identifiably tall as she was stretched out gracefully on a couch, being fanned and tended to by three other servants, looked at them with momentary intrigue before the corner’s of her lips turned down. “You’re not a soldier,” she remarked, looking Gyles up and down.
“He’s not,” Lukas interrupted, unwilling to give Gyles the chance to defend himself, “but I am.”
“And why are you here?” she asked, unable to stick her nose any higher into the air as she looked at them with disapproval. “You’ve asked for my husband. Why’s that?”
“I asked for your husband merely out of formality,” Lukas replied, casting his gaze around the room at the abundance of servants. “But I may find you’re more knowledgable about what it is we require.”
The woman scoffed, with her jet black brows lifting inquisitively as she asked, “And what’s that?”
Gyles inhaled deeply, speaking before Lukas could go on, “I’m looking for a servant you acquired named Arello Hunt,” he said.
The woman’s held his gaze while Gyles unmistakably saw those of her attendants flicker about uneasily. “He’s dead,” she said, not the slightest bit of sympathy in her tone. “He died some weeks ago. Illness, it was.”
Gyles’s heart sank in his chest, the echo of his heartbeat disappearing into nothingness as he became increasingly still and quiet. He swallowed thickly, realising the silence, and licked his lips as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “What illness?”
“We’re unsure,” she replied, ever so quickly. “He sickened so suddenly there was no time to bring a physician, not this far out.”
“And his body?” Gyles asked, brows furrowing together, once again cutting Lukas off, shrugging himself away, as the guard inched towards him in order to excuse themselves and lead them out.
“Buried,” she replied, shortly.
Gyles said nothing else, absolutely incapable of it as his throat dried up and all hope disappeared. He turned on his heel and walked back out the front door, leaving Lukas to wrap things up without him. He placed his hands atop his knees, supporting himself as he breathed in and out at a hurried pace. Lukas clapped a hand on the back of his shoulder, his lips pursed together in a tight line that was meant to pass as a sympathetic show of support.
Gyles forced himself upright, though unable to deny the way the earth seemed to sway beneath his feet with each step that he took towards his horse. Promptly, the servant who had greeted them at the door followed them out, standing beside them just as they were about to haul themselves back onto their mounts to make the long journey back to the Evrad castle. “You’re leaving so soon?”
Though he wasn’t sure, Gyles thought that she almost seemed disappointed. “What we came looking for is no longer here,” Lukas said, forcing his own agitation out of his tone.
She swallowed thickly, asking, “Are you sure?”
Gyles raised an inquisitive eyebrow, shooting a brief glance in the direction of the house when the servant had done the same, fearful that she could be seen from where she’d placed herself, strategically behind the large form of his horse. “What do you mean by that?”
She swallowed once more, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as her skin became flushed. “I’ll get into trouble,” she said, more as a preface to a much greater story that she was desperate to reveal.
“Not as much trouble as that which will fall upon those who would lay a hand on you,” Lukas retorted, his jaw tense as he spoke.
Gyles advanced on her, standing at his full-intimidating height over a girl that was barely over the age of fourteen. “What is it that you know?”
She looked to the side, at the horse. But she insisted in her pause and Gyles followed her gaze, seeing just over his horse’s saddle, in the direction of a large shed adjacent to the farm lands. Gyles turned back to her and grabbed her by the arm, making more of a show of grabbing her aggressively than actually doing so, appearing to take her against her will in the direction of the shed. He came up to the door, unsurprised to find it locked, but its poor maintenance meant that nothing more than a quick ram of his shoulder against it had the door flying open.
The stench that hit him was immediate and unforgiving, a horrible, pungent smell of death and decay that had him holding the back of his hand to his nose and mouth. The servant pulled away, covering her face as she choked back a sob and burst into tears. He looked over his shoulder once more, forcing his eyes to get used to the darkness as he swatted away flies and mosquitos that had found refuge amongst the waste in the unused room. On the ground, in the furthest corner of the room, beneath a window that was so filthy that hardly a ray of light could pierce through, was an emaciated body of a man, a boy, no older than that of the servant that had lead him there. He shrunk a little closer in spite of his better judgement, crouching onto the ground, trying his utmost to convince himself that there was no need to get so close, that the boy was dead and that getting closer would do nothing more than churn his stomach. Bandages upon bandages, dank with blood, were circled around his face, wrapped tightly over his eyes, robbing Gyles of the opportunity to see the one thing that would prove to him that this was the boy he’d been looking for. But this was him, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise. He was so thin, ribs poking out through his cream-coloured shirt, his clothes hanging so loosely off his body that he was otherwise drowning in them. And, worst of all, the shackle around his ankle, now that he had no reason or capability to escape, gave him ample space for him to slip from.
He made his way back out with heavy steps, looking to the servant girl whom Lukas struggled to console. “What happened to him?”
Her breaths hitched in the back of her throat but, with a hand to her chest, she spoke up as boldly as she could, “A strange man, an acquaintance of my Master, was so charmed by his eyes that they took them from him. They were a gift. Infection set in almost immediately after that.”
“And the shackles?” Gyles asked, growing increasingly angry and frustrated. “What were they for? It wasn’t as though he could go anywhere!”
The young servant girl began to tremble, taking a cautious step backwards. “They would not have anyone know of what they had done to him,” she said.
“You!” A shrill voice piped up out of nowhere, forcing their attention on to the Lady of the house as she stormed out of her home with her servants in tow. “Get away from there! You’ve no right to—”
Gyles advanced on her. Unaware of what he was doing as he felt his body ignite in a fit of rage, he advanced on her with fists clenched tightly at his side, ready to strike as hard as he possibly could. But he was forced back when he was no more than three paces away from her, dragged away by Lukas who used everything in his power to pull him back.
The woman’s shoulders slackened as she watched Gyles snarl and thrash against Lukas’ strength, her mouth open agape, and her eyes wide as she came to terms with his rage. She spun on her heel in no time at all, marching back into the house with her servants and throwing the door shut, no doubt barricading the doors from the in
side until her husband came home.
Gyles shrugged once more out of Lukas’ hold, slipping to the ground. Lukas bent over to help him back up but he shoved his hands off of him, getting to his feet and making his way towards the horses with nothing more than a brief glance over his shoulder at the shed. He kicked his horse harder than he’d intended but was too numb to really notice, riding off, trying his utmost to get as far away from that woman and her land as it was possible, putting as much distance between them as possible, out of fear of what he would do if she were ever to land herself in his presence again. He was vaguely aware of Lukas calling after him, struggling to get him to slow down so that he could catch up to him. He didn’t want to be around him. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between the two of them also. He feared what the man thought of him when he was as livid as he was, so keen to lay his fists into a waifish woman of high standings. But he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help the feelings he had for her and for what she’d done. He wondered if she would ever know. After all, in her pathetic little mind, all she’d done was rob a teenager—a servant boy with no real future, as far as she was concerned—of his life. Nobody would miss him, she must have thought; his brother hadn’t written to him. He doubted that she was even aware he had a brother, that he did have family, that someone had thought of him constantly. Thoughts such as those, ones that reminded him of her ignorance, spurred him to travel that much faster.
Returning to the castle in Evrad, he stormed up the stairs and into the modest chambers he’d been supplied with. The room was largely in darkness and ice cold but he couldn’t feel it at all. Looking down at himself, he realised that his hands were trembling, but not with anything other than anger.
Lukas let himself inside, closing the door behind him in spite of the bloodshot glare Gyles threw in his direction. “You never told me what this boy meant to you,” Lukas remarked softly, leaning against the door, showing him that he had no intention of leaving. Gyles turned his head away, his fists clenching at his sides. “Who was he?”
