by S E Zbasnik
“If any bumbling fool can get in, seems to me you wasted your time with all that training shit,” Hayley said, her voice low like she was speaking to herself.
The boy’s heads darted over to her as if they all wanted to start shouting how much of a disgrace she was to this institution or brotherhood, but this was Larissa’s show. No doubt that’d been true the girl’s entire life. Banging her clay mug down on the table, the venom spitting demon who nearly cleaved off Hayley’s head hissed, “Behave as if you are better than us all you like, Hayseed.”
“Hayley. My name’s Hayley. I don’t get why that’s hard for you to—”
“But we all know the truth,” Larissa continued, her head bobbing towards the others who refused to make eye contact with either. “You, with your scabbed over face…”
Hayley drew her palm over her cheeks, the divots indenting tight to the flesh as if she could wish them away.
“Your pathetic ploys you call humor.”
“I prefer to call it sarcasm, but I can see why you wouldn’t —”
The green eyes burned through Hayley like a venom, “You are insolent, and for whatever farcical reason a Knight chose you as a squire, it shall not last long. I doubt you shall last beyond the week.”
“Oh yeah,” Hayley raised her head higher, her nostrils flaring.
Larissa didn’t even look up at it. She took a long draught of her drink as if Hayley wasn’t even there. Smacking her lips, the girl moved to plop the clay mug onto the table when she suddenly spun in place and hurled the bottom against Hayley’s bruised shoulder.
“Shit!” Hayley cried, the pain causing her to crumble to her knees. She lashed her good hand out to the ground, scrabbling to get up and flee from another attack. But Larissa was calmly wiping her plate with a hunk of bread, her face neutral as if she didn’t just throw a god damn mug at her. Sweat beaded on Hayley’s forehead, her hand cupping the bruise as she glanced in agony at the other squires.
None of them moved to stop Larissa, certainly none would come out on Hayley’s side. She was alone.
As if that was anything new.
Cold bit into her flesh, the chill of the area stones finally cracking through the summer heat as she slipped further away from the table. In doing so, the scent of the meaty gravy filled her flaring nostrils and dove straight to her stomach. The cursed thing snarled in anger that she wasn’t stuffing all the food on the table into it. Before the growling noise abated, Hayley felt the eyes of the other squires looking at her.
When had she last eaten? Not in a sun up, that much she knew. The magistrate didn’t care if she was in fighting form for this. No doubt he figured she’d fail, same as Larissa, same as them all.
Same as Hayley.
Stumbling even further away from the torchlight, Hayley’s back bounced against the wall and she turned. Darkness corralled by stone archways was all that greeted her. Get out now. Before they’d even notice she was gone. Before that man did whatever he planned to her. It couldn’t be anything good. There was no reason to keep someone like her around.
Hayley dashed into the shadows alone, but behind her, she heard Marco begin to ask, “Would you like—?” Whatever he was offering or to whom faded into the mortar. Those gimlet eyes burning into her pathetic form haunted the edges of the bricks, but Hayley shifted her shoulders to shake them off. What did she care? She’d never see them again.
Get out. Find an exit, blend into a crowd. No one would notice her out in the markets. Maybe she’d even still have her ratty old pallet down in the cistern left. Or she’d steal another. Didn’t matter, all that did was getting out of here away from…
A gulp began it, the damn thing catching in her throat like a pinecone. Two more followed and then the tears. The fat things welled up at the sides of her eyes, each one pooling on her cheek before lancing to the dirt at her feet. Why should she even care? She didn’t want to be a squire. Didn’t want to be anywhere near those people.
Didn’t want to be a part of anything. Run and don’t look back. It was her only hope.
Swiping at her filthy cheeks, smearing the precious salt around into her pores, Hayley turned to the right, batted at a wooden door, and froze. Her feet scattered her back, her scraggly form hugging the edge of the doorframe as she watched the Seven Serpents pacing about in the room. Crap. Wrong way.
She moved to twist back, find another path, when the blond one — Calvin — began to speak, “I feared, being given second choice, I’d be saddled with some lickspittle.” He stood framed by a painting of some historical mighty warrior. The man in the painting wore little save a bit of fabric knotted around his hips to hide the twig and berries. The knight wisely wore pants and a tunic but seemed to be mimicking the power pose above him.
“Your squire seems a fine choice,” one of the lady Knights said. Hayley knocked into her forehead trying to dredge up the name but it wouldn’t come. She should leave. Sneak out before anyone actually noticed her.
“Indeed. He could use a bit of sanding around the edges, as all of them do, but I shall put him to good work soon enough.” Calvin boasted as if Marco was some bull he found wandering in the woods. “I only wish I knew what in the Lord’s good name Gavin was thinking.”
Hayley’s entire body snapped rigid at the mention of her knight. Well, not really hers as she wasn’t going to be sticking around for longer than the end of this conversation. Just the idea…in general. Of how this all worked. She risked another quick peek into the room to find there was no brown-skinned man wandering amongst them, certainly no amber gaze piercing the darkness to find his squire listening in.
“Drew the longest straw, had first pick of the litter, and he chooses…” Calvin ceased speaking and turned towards Frederick. “Is there even a way to describe that creature he has for a squire? As firm as a half stuffed scarecrow with the sunburned hide and straw hair to boot.”
Hayley dug her fingers into the cold mortar, feeling very unlike a scarecrow. She expected the others to laugh at her, especially Larissa’s knight, but Frederick pursed his lips, “Come now, let us not be too hasty. We all began as knock-kneed whelps at one point.” His ocean blue eyes gazed across the other knights who all bent their heads in thoughtful remembrance. “I am certain Ser Gavin had his own reasons for the choice. Whether he comes to regret them has yet to be seen.”
God’s toenails. That was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever said about Hayley in her whole life. Only the sounds of slurping echoed from the room as the knights all took a swig of their far superior wine. It came in a real bottle and everything.
It was Calvin who sidled away from the wall and his posing partner portrait. A snort ripped free as he chortled, “You’re just being a smug bastard because you got the prettiest squire out of the lot.”
Frederick shrugged, but even at the distance, Hayley could see a satisfied smile rising up his lips. “She shows potential.”
“And isn’t above braining someone to get what she wants,” Calvin snickered. It was hard to tell if he meant that as a compliment or not, but Frederick clearly approved.
“I always like a girl who’s…spirited. I think she shall prove a great asset for me.” A smattering of chuckles bounded around the room from that, and Hayley felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Frederick looked towards one of the women and asked, “What of yours, Catarina? He seems a strong back.”
This isn’t getting you out of here. Hayley blinked at the obvious, even if she also ached to have something to throw back in the squire’s faces. Ha, you think you’re all so great well…your knights seem to think you’re just okay at best. How do you like that?
Merciful Saints, they’d probably all pelt her with their cups on principle. Taking one last look over the other knights to make certain no one saw, Hayley scrunched away from the door and dashed to the left this time. Her footsteps echoed against the stones, each broken-sole flap reminding her she was going to wind up barefoot before getting out of here. She ached to
return to a life that’d been barely living, but at least she knew what would come with it. Freezing toes, sunburnt flesh, a hollow stomach sure, but it was predictable. This was…she didn’t want this.
And you don’t deserve it either.
Her eyes darted to the side to watch the squire room once again whip on past. There was another peal of laughter bouncing around the room, the others all pleased as a pig in shit in their company. If Hayley stepped back in, Larissa would just sink her fangs to pump in more poison. No, she was done with that. With all of that. There had to be an entranceway somewhere around here.
Get there and it was freedom. Cut a few purses along the way and it’d be like this nightmare never even began. No problem at all. A soft bounce returned to Hayley’s step when she heard the return of voices ahead of her. Shit.
Flattening to the wall, she listened in as Knight-Captain Erin spoke. She sounded annoyed, but she seemed to always be annoyed. “This is unwise. Taking someone like her into Lady—”
“I am aware of the risks.” That was Gavin, his breathy voice oozing out the door to land on Hayley’s ears. She sat up higher at it, then shook her head. Who cared? No doubt if she ever saw him again it’d be at the end of a sword. Just move on, get to…
“There is already talk amongst the higher lords to increase regulations upon the order,” Erin was sounding more peeved, whether it was from being interrupted or Gavin not taking her words as gospel was harder to say. “If anything goes missing from Lady Bernadine’s estate, a candlestick, a fireplace poker, a bloody teaspoon…we will all pay for it. They may even disband us entirely.”
A growl broke from her Knight. “If this is such a great fear of the order, then why have her as an option to begin with?”
Hayley wasn’t stupid. Smart was hard to debate at times given her past record, but she knew they were talking about her.
“Because no one in their most fevered dreams ever thought she’d be chosen. Much less by you. You only received that promotion and patronage a few months ago. By our holy Lord, Gavin, taking someone so ill-bred under your wing is tantamount to suicide.”
Hayley sucked in a breath, fingers slapped over her mouth to keep from speaking as she began to walk back. Her knight didn’t say anything, didn’t rush to her defense. Instead, he seemed to be weighing the facts carefully. No doubt he was about to rush back to the arena and declare a do-over. Hurl Hayley onto the wagon and not look back.
So? You were going to vanish into the shadows first chance you had? Which is different because he didn’t know that. Maybe suspected, but didn’t know. It didn’t count because…
Fingers landed hard on her shoulder, pinching into the bony collarbone and nearly causing Hayley to yelp. Her hand shot up, palm cupping a pointed elbow as she pivoted her head back. Frederick’s sea blue eyes stared right into hers. He caught her eavesdropping. He was going to-to drag her in front of the knights that already wanted her gone and end this.
She should fight, throw him off, or…or do some of those disarming moves like the other squires knew. But Hayley froze, her entire body locking in stiff as the man’s worn lips lifted to the side. This close she could see the stubble prodding from below the skin, like pepper dusted over his cheek.
“Ser Frederick,” Gavin’s voice rang out, causing both knight and ex-squire to whip over. His amber eyes darted down from his comrade to the girl stuck in his grip, “And…squire. What are you doing here? You were ordered to remain with the others.”
Instinctively, her eyes dropped to the ground, both palms limply knocking into each other. Hayley’s mouth struggled to open but the next voice came from above her.
“I was trying to discover your whereabouts, and asked your new squire to show me,” Frederick said, eyes bright and head tossed back. He looked so certain as if he himself believed the lie.
Knight-Captain Erin snorted, her arms crossed over what Hayley noticed was an iron breastplate. She hadn’t been wearing that before. At the attention of the girl, the woman narrowed her eyes, a clear sign of “I’m watching you, thief.” Hayley wanted to wave her fingers around to prove they were empty, and these pants didn’t come with pockets either so…
Stepping forward, Gavin’s eyes drifted from Frederick’s face down to his grip on Hayley. At the look, the man released and Hayley stumbled forward. “I see,” Gavin said, his thick lips pursed tight. He didn’t buy it either.
Smiling widely, Frederick bent down so the tall man met with Hayley’s four-foot, ten-inch height. “Thank you for being so kind as to help.” As she turned to fully face him, he winked and Hayley’s stomach burned.
She swiped at the patch of gut skin under the scratchy shirt and nodded. “Sure. Of course.”
“Wouldn’t want to wander alone down here. Plenty of dangerous passages that could lead to a lion’s cage,” Frederick continued, the smile never wavering. Hayley felt herself returning it, gratefulness rising up her gullet.
“What was it you wished to ask of me?” Knight-Captain Gavin inserted himself into the conversation, a hand trying to wave Hayley back towards the wall. It sent her deeper into the room where there was no escape and another knight that couldn’t stand her. Wonderful.
“Hm?” Frederick focused and smiled, “Ah, the ‘master of couture’ has arrived. We’re all to meet in the anterior dressing room.”
“Excellent,” Gavin bowed his head to the fellow knight and Frederick stepped back.
“I’d best go and collect the other squires for their dressing. See you again soon, I hope.” He said the last part right at Hayley whose cheeks lit up hotter than the torchlight. There was no reason for him to rescue her, to protect her like that. When was the last time anyone had stuck their neck out for her? She tried to rack her brain to find the answer, but the crushing weight of coming up with never kept bouncing back. And that sweet man was saddled with Larissa. A massive wave of pity opened up in Hayley’s stomach as she watched a whistling Frederick head down the hallway.
“Squire.” The voice whipped her back around, the tone screaming to be paid attention to lest there be consequences. “I understand that you are…” Gavin’s eyes trailed over to the Knight-Captain who remained glowering, “not as prepared for this as others, but when I give you an order you are to follow it no matter what. Even if other knights ask things of you, inquire with me first.”
“Ye…” her head tipped down, feet shuffling one over the other while she dug into her arm. “Yes, Ser.”
“Good.” There was no more after that. No whipping, no beating about the head or shoulders. Not even shouting himself hoarse. The matter was dropped as soon as it began. “Now,” his eyes darted over the tattered sleeves of her burlap shirt. “I think it’s time we get you properly attired.”
Gavin extended a hand out into the hallway and Hayley had no choice but to follow. When she felt him step in behind, trailing while also guiding, she knew she was done for. There was no escaping now. A knight would see her, would catch her, and it’d be all over. Ahead, she watched the other squires shuffling towards whoever this master was. Perhaps tonight, under cover of darkness when everyone slept. That was when she could give him the slip.
“And shoes,” Gavin muttered from above and behind her. “You require much better shoes before you hurt yourself.”
CHAPTER THREE
Hayley plucked at the green linen cinched tight to her chest. It caused the little ruffles at the bottom to sway, a glint of silver showing underneath. The man leading her glanced back and must have noticed her frown at the fit.
“Too tight?”
“Huh?” She dropped her hand off her…upper chest part, and tried to smooth down her stomach as best she could. “No, no, it’s…”
“I’m afraid most squire tunics are cut with men in mind, then tailored down for a girl’s…” A strange thing happened. Knight Gavin had been as solid as a bar of iron, or a brick to the head, but as he took in Hayley’s scrawny body revealed by the livery wrapped around it, his cheeks burn
ed bright. “Form,” the man gasped out quickly, spinning on his heels to try and gaze out at the market area.
After being fitted by the giggliest man she’d ever met, Hayley stumbled out into the fading daylight in a long tunic, verdant hose, and a pair of breeches that cut off at the knees. It was livable, if not stuffy, especially the neckline which seemed to try to suffocate her if she twisted her head too fast. The expert showed up with a giant pile of already stitched together tunics, each of them bearing the symbol of the Seven Serpents. His job was to take it in — in the case of Hayley — or try to let it out wide enough to fit Marco.
The latter of which didn’t entirely work and required taking apart two tunics in order to fit the giant. The boy didn’t say a thing even as no doubt pins and needles kept accidentally pricking into his pale skin framed by dark tan arms.
There’d been a looking glass left in the room, Larissa hogging it every chance she could to admire how the green popped her hair color. Hayley only took a quick glance, noticing that the verdant hue turned her skin even more sallow than usual. She looked like a weed yanked from between two filthy bricks then left to wither on the cobbles.
“Your boots?” The voice caused her to glance up from her chest. Her knight once against shot a look over his shoulder at her, “How’s the fit?”
“Good.” Her tiny feet paddled back and forth in the leather slippers, but a handful of socks managed to make up the difference. It’d be useful in winter, less so with the heat of summer beating over them swamping her shoes, and dozens of sweating bodies pressing in around them.
In truth, this was the weirdest experience Hayley ever had in the market. People were avoiding her. They weren’t looking at her, all their deferent bows and jolly tips of the head were to the man striding ahead, his amber eyes gazing over the proceedings. But they seemed to know she was with him, and that afforded her a weird grace. Not worthy of attention, but no one would dare accidentally stumble into her either. Like she was Gavin’s mule or something.
