Midnight's Knight: A Fae War Chronicles Novel (The Fae War Chronicles Book 0)

by Jocelyn Fox

  “Holds you back?”

  “From angering the Queen,” said Rye softly. “Her anger is terrible and her punishments swift. I cannot bear to think of her hurting Tyr.”

  “Love is its own chains sometimes, I think,” said Ramel before he truly thought about his words.

  Rye chuckled. “Such wisdom, young squire.”

  Ramel grinned and felt his cheeks heat. They settled into an easy silence. He finished his tea and placed the empty cup on the table. “Thank you for your time,” he said. “I have…enjoyed our conversation.”

  “As I have as well, Ramel,” replied Rye.

  “If anything, I have learned that it is indeed remarkable to walk barefoot on such pelts,” said Ramel, “so I must hone my hunting skills and gain some pelts of my own.”

  “Would they allow such a thing in the squire’s barracks?” asked Rye, raising an eyebrow.

  “It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission,” replied the squire with a puckish grin.

  “Most of the time,” said Rye. “Most of the time.” Then she shook away the odd seriousness that had fallen over her. “If your master has any more messages for my mistress, I would be more than happy to serve as the courier,” she continued lightly.

  “I will be sure to employ you if the need arises,” replied Ramel. He stood and bowed slightly. The effect was ruined when he had to tug on his socks and boots by the door.

  “Until next time, young knight-to-be,” said Rye with her lupine grin. Ramel gave an answering grin, drinking in the sight of her until the door shut. Then he realized that he was going to be hard-pressed to finish all his preparations for the evening meal, having spent more time than he’d planned delivering Knight Finnead’s message. But it was entirely worth it, he decided as he strode quickly down the corridors of the Princess’ wing. He remembered the sound of his name on Rye’s lips and smiled, even as his legs protested at the quick pace. Entirely worth it indeed.

  Chapter 18

  Finn realized that the lady seated next to him at the middle dais had asked him a question, and he’d been thinking so intently about his impending conversation with the Princess that he’d ignored her entirely.

  “I apologize, my lady,” he said, making sure that he captured her eyes with his own gaze. “I let my mind drift for a moment. I hope you can forgive me.” He couldn’t remember her name.

  The lady smiled indulgently at him. “I have been told that you are constantly thinking about your duties as a Knight. The next event at which you can prove your skill with a blade, perhaps?” Her smile lingered as she arched an eyebrow. “I have heard that you are yet untested in true matches for your swordsmanship.”

  Finn smiled at the lady’s insinuation. Ramel divulged the gossip of the Court when he asked, and his squire had keen ears. Apparently, the ladies found him all the more interesting because he did not actively pursue them like some of his peers. He supposed it was something to do with the idea of rarity – he didn’t kiss every maiden that came across his path, so some of the Court beauties took it as a challenge, almost an affront to their appeal. “I have fought in a few tournaments, my lady,” he replied casually, as though he didn’t understand her double entendre.

  “Come now, Finnead,” she said, her eyes glinting. “You are more coy than a young woman who hasn’t yet had her first moonlight stroll.”

  “It is difficult to make time for moonlight strolls when the Queen’s service demands my dedication,” demurred Finn.

  She raised her chin slightly. “Those who wish to make time do so.” Her look turned speculative. “Or perhaps you simply have no interest in women.”

  Finn suppressed his sigh. Why was it that everyone insisted on prying into his private affairs? Why did anyone care if he flirted with women or conducted dalliances like some of the other young Knights and Guards?

  The lady eyed Ramel as he filled her cup. “Perhaps you have…other tastes. Is that so, young squire?”

  Ramel smiled and said quietly, “My lady, it is not my place to comment on such matters.” Then he winked at her mischievously. “Though I will speak for myself and assure you that I will make up for my master’s…lack of interest…in you and your fair companions when I am no longer bound by my squire’s oath.”

  The lady laughed. “Indeed, we shall see whether your enthusiasm shall be met with reciprocation in a few years.”

  “A decade is but a fraction of the time that I would wait for a kiss from you, Lady Genevieve,” said Ramel, bowing gallantly. Finn knew that an older Knight would probably reprimand the squire for flirting so obviously, but he wasn’t an older Knight, and he was grateful to his squire for sensing when he needed rescuing from an excruciating conversation. And Ramel seemed to know when he couldn’t remember a lady’s name. He doubted he could have chosen a better squire.

  The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. Lady Genevieve spoke amiably about the events at Court, and Finn forced himself to be a courteous and attentive dining companion.

  “I wonder if the Lady Bearer will be attending this Solstice,” Genevieve said musingly, drinking the last of the wine in her goblet and gracefully waving Ramel away as he stepped forward to refill her cup.

  “I believe she is still in the mortal world on official business,” replied Finn.

  Lady Genevieve curled her lip slightly. “I don’t quite understand the Queen’s interest in mortal affairs. Her little pets are pretty enough, I suppose, but as a lot, they are a dirty and uncivilized race. Most of the time they are too busy killing each other and destroying their lands to make way for their ugly cities to learn anything of real value.” She shook her head. “They have no aptitude for runes or any kind of sorcery, and only a few of them even understand the existence of taebramh.”

  “I don’t think all of them are like that,” said Finn.

  “Have you met many mortals?” asked Genevieve, raising an eyebrow.

  He smiled. “I have not, my lady. What I mean is that I think we should not to be too quick to judge everyone by the worst actions of their people as a whole.”

  “I think it’s perfectly logical,” Genevieve countered. “The only useful mortal is the Bearer, and even she has her limitations. On the whole, I think we are far superior to humans.” She waved a hand. “I have no desire to travel to Doendhtalam, and no desire to see mortals as anything other than brutish, short-lived imitations of us.”

  “And I suppose you think that we are so far superior to them that they should be grateful when we bring them into our Court,” said Finn.

  Genevieve laughed and gestured around them, encompassing the whole Great Hall. “And why wouldn’t they be grateful? We save them from an ugly world of their own design, bringing them into a place of beauty where they are treated well.” She tilted her head. “I would not have thought you so…softhearted, Knight Finnead.”

  “I am far from softhearted, Lady Genevieve,” replied Finn. “I am simply unwilling to pass judgment on a people and a world I know so little about.”

  The lady looked as though she was about to reply, but the single chime that signaled the end of the meal sounded from the high dais. The Court stood as the Queen and her favored courtiers swept from the room, adjourning to the night gardens; Princess Andraste followed with her own smaller retinue. Finn wondered if she’d received his message and if she would indeed meet him as he requested. He didn’t notice that Lady Genevieve followed his gaze to the Princess, surprise and then a dark envy sparking in her eyes. Instead, he murmured his courtesies to his dining companion and excused himself for the night. His squire bowed to Lady Genevieve and followed a few paces behind him.

  He walked toward the Queen’s Courtyard, where the Princess and her companions often passed a few hours after the evening meal. It was said that the Princess had begun to invite Scholars to these gatherings, discussing history, the politics of the Courts and the White City. She showed a certain fascination with the White City and the Great Gate that led into the mortal world. Rame
l had told him that according to Murtagh, the Princess had also extended requests to a few of the Walkers as well. It was rumored that her ambition was to have the Bearer herself attend one of these discussions.

  Finn walked at a leisurely pace through the halls, thinking again about how he would address the Princess. Part of him wanted to reprimand her like the truculent pageboy she pretended to be, though he knew that wasn’t a logical approach, especially when she was not wearing her disguise.

  “Ramel,” he said as they neared the Queen’s Courtyard.

  “Sir?” His squire leapt forward a few paces to draw even with Finn, intently waiting for his instructions.

  “I expect the Princess will bring one of her ladies. If it is not the lady to whom you brought my message, it will be your task to engage her in conversation and perhaps draw her away to a bit of a distance so that I may speak frankly to the Princess.”

  In a way, it would have been so much simpler to tell Andraste to slip on her disguise and come to his quarters. But a strange page visiting a Knight at odd hours would probably raise more questions like those that Lady Genevieve had voiced; he didn’t really care, but he knew that some pursued rumors with an odd passion, and all it would take was one curious squire or fellow Knight discovering Andraste for there to be a scandal of unimaginable magnitude.

  “I’ll handle it, sir,” replied Ramel with a brisk nod.

  They turned the corner and Princess Andraste stood just outside the courtyard, where she’d given Arian her favor those years ago. One of her ladies stood beside her, one who looked vaguely familiar to Finn but whom he couldn’t quite place. She stood taller than Andraste, which placed her almost at Finn’s height, and she wore her hair in a complex pattern of braids that certainly wasn’t in style among the ladies of the Court. She watched them approach with glittering pale eyes. Her stance beside the Princess reminded Finn of a squire standing beside his Knight.

  “That’s Lady Rye,” said Ramel quietly. “She is the one that delivered the message.”

  “And does she know the subject of our conversation?”

  “Yes, but not because I told her,” clarified the squire quickly. “She was one of those who lived with the Northerners for a time, and the Princess trusts her. I think perhaps that Lady Rye has her own lessons with Princess Andraste.”

  Finn glanced at his squire but said nothing as they drew nearer to the two ladies. Andraste wore a black gown in her typical simple style, though he could see that her master of wardrobe was slowly starting to use more embellishments and gems to highlight her blossoming beauty. The cut of the gown emphasized her slender waist, and a string of black pearls from Queensport circled her white throat. Pearls shaped like teardrops hung from her ears, though she still didn’t wear woven hair nets like her sister the Queen, her dark hair hanging down her back in a simple braid. Though she waited calmly, her pale hands folded demurely before her, Finn still sensed the impatience beneath the veneer of serenity.

  “Princess.” He swept a low bow to Andraste, Ramel following suit. Then he bowed to Rye. “My lady.”

  “Knight Finnead.” Rye nodded to him and then shifted her gaze. “Squire Ramel.”

  Princess Andraste regarded him coolly, though a flush darkened her pale cheeks.

  “Princess, may I speak plainly?” Finn asked quietly.

  Andraste looked at Rye, who nodded. The Princess turned back to Finn. “Yes. In fact, Rye is quite talented in rune casting. She’s ensured that anyone who passes will hear a polite conversation about the evening meal and perhaps some speculation about the Queen’s next tournament.”

  Rye smiled and tilted her head, looking at Ramel. Finn didn’t waste time trying to decipher the wordless conversation happening between his squire and the Princess’s lady.

  “My lady,” started Finn.

  “Please stop calling me that,” replied Princess Andraste immediately. “No one can hear us, so stop standing on courtesy.”

  Finn blinked. “How do you wish me to address you?”

  “By my name,” said Andraste. “Andraste.”

  “As you wish,” Finn replied carefully. He already felt off balance. “My l…Andraste, I wanted to speak to you about your excursions down to the training yard.”

  “I know. You said as much in your missive.” She kept her hands folded demurely, counterpoint to her intense gaze.

  “Do you wish to dive straight into finding a solution, then?” Finn asked. His hand brushed the hilt of his Knight’s sword, as was his habit when he needed reassurance. It reminded him of how far he had come, and what he had already accomplished.

  “I don’t think there needs to be a solution,” retorted Andraste. “I’m quite good at my disguise, and Rye has helped me improve on it even more.”

  Finn looked sharply at Rye, who met his eyes challengingly. He turned his attention back to Andraste. “Have you thought about what would happen if you were injured?”

  “I won’t be injured,” Andraste said with a dismissive little wave of one hand.

  “Now that makes you sound like a page who hasn’t even had his First Training Day,” replied Finn. Andraste frowned slightly at his sharp reply, clearly taken aback. “If you think you can train safely as long as you want without anyone knowing who you are, without anyone taking particular care not to hurt you, with no consequences…then you’re not half as intelligent as I thought you to be.”

  Rye raised her eyebrows, her gaze flickering between Finn and Andraste. She looked at Ramel and grinned. “Shall we step aside and let these two have their conversation?”

  “Yes,” said Finn.

  “No,” said Andraste at the same time. The Princess showed her younger age as she glanced at Rye, silently beseeching her for support.

  “My lady,” said Rye with a smile, pronouncing the words slowly and intentionally, “you’re on your own.” She motioned to Ramel and they stepped a few paces aside, still within view but giving Finn and Andraste space enough to speak without being overheard.

  Andraste pressed her sculpted lips into a thin line and crossed her arms over her chest as she faced Finn again, readying for a second verbal skirmish. He waited silently until she shifted and looked away. Then she raised her chin and said defiantly, “If I get hurt it’ll be my own fault, because I didn’t train hard enough.”

  “If you were a page it would be your own fault,” allowed Finn. “But you’re not a page. You’re the Queen’s sister, and if you get hurt it will be the fault of the page who swung the staff and struck you, and the fault of the squires who knew of your presence and said nothing, and the fault of your ladies who knew and said nothing. And the fault of the Knight who knew and said nothing.”

  “You’re certainly saying something,” muttered Andraste. She pressed her lips together again. “I want to learn.”

  “Are you willing to place others at risk so that you may learn?” Finn pressed. “Are you willing to see a pageboy with stripes from the lash on his back because he struck you? Are you willing to see a squire stripped of his rank and cast out from his training? Are you willing to see a Knight beheaded for treason because he did not speak to the Queen about the deception of her sister?”

  Andraste paled. “Mab wouldn’t do that,” she said, but her voice was unsure.

  “We all serve at the Queen’s pleasure,” said Finn in a gentler tone. He could see that she understood the severity of the consequences for those who helped her. “We would give our lives in her service, and she may take our lives as punishment for failing her.”

  Andraste swallowed and looked down at the flagstones beneath their feet. The low murmur of Ramel and Rye’s conversation filled the moment of silence, Rye’s chuckle rippling through the air. Finally, Andraste sighed and raised her head. “I understand your point,” she said heavily. “I just…I like learning to fight. I truly do. I know it’s selfish, but I don’t want to give it up. I will…but I wish there were a way to continue to learn.” She glanced at him from beneath her dark lashes
. His heart skipped a beat.

  “You often ride into the forest or out on the plains with your ladies, do you not?” Finn asked.

  “Yes, mostly with Rye and a few others that actually enjoy riding,” replied Andraste.

  “There have been strange creatures sighted in the forest,” said Finn. “The Queen might forbid you from venturing so far afield…but if you had a Knight and squire to escort you and your ladies, it might put her mind at ease. There are glades not so deep into the forest that would serve well as a training ring.”

  Understanding dawned in Andraste’s eyes. “Wouldn’t that be putting you in the same position as before, aiding in my deception?”

  Finn shook his head. “I do not think so. There will be no deception. You will not be in disguise.” He shrugged. “You don’t discuss every detail of every ride you take with the Queen, do you?”

  Andraste smiled. “She only enjoys riding when she is taking out her hunting hounds or going a-Maying with her latest pets.”

  “Then there is your answer,” he said. He paused. “She might suggest that one of her Three escort you. If I were you, I would take them on some very long, excruciatingly boring and sedate rides to look at wildflowers.”

  “Perhaps take an easel and paints,” said Andraste reflectively.

  Finn chuckled. “After a few sessions of watching you and your ladies paint and gossip for a few hours, I think the Three might decide that it is entirely safe to delegate the task to a younger Knight.”

  “To you,” said Andraste, her smile returning. Finn felt himself smile in reply, and the silence caught and held, stretching and heating with their breath and their gazes. Andraste leaned slightly forward as if some invisible force drew her closer to him, her gray eyes widening and darkening with a look that ignited a spark of warning in his gut. Finn stepped back and bowed slightly. She caught herself and for an instant looked very young, almost hurt; but then her smooth, calm demeanor returned.