It had been two days since her outburst and the revelation of time spent in Tolad. Thus far, not a soul had discussed it with her or even within her hearing. It was as though the whole castle was in league to pretend that they knew nothing of her past.
Bethany felt a weariness seep into her very bones. She was tired of playing along. To her surprise, now that the truth was out, she wanted to discuss it with her mother. Not the rape, but the rest of it.
But every time she alluded to Tolad, her mother would change the subject. Bethany couldn’t blame her mother for her tactics, as much as it hurt her. The queen had not been raised to deal with such conflict. Debowrah’s mother, or even her mother’s mother, had never had a daughter get sold into slavery and later returned, as though she had been raised from the dead. Debowrah was doing the best she could without any resources.
Bethany had to admit to herself, had she been in her mother’s shoes—before her own adventure—she would have responded just the same way. She would have shut out the truth, pretending until pretending became reality.
The thing was, Bethany knew better. She needed to talk to someone, but there was no one to talk to. She had considered talking to Cilia, but rejected the idea instantly. Cilia would respond in just the same way as her mother did.
Bethany sighed as she pushed her food around her plate again.
Her brother’s advisors suddenly left in mass and Bethany realized she had been left alone with her brother. She left her plate behind and walked over to where Gilead stood, staring down at a large map rolled out across a table and pinned down by heavy pewter mugs.
“Gilead,” she said in the soft, inside voice her mother had taught her as a child.
“Hmm?” he murmured without looking up.
Bethany swallowed the lump in her throat and forced the words out. “Have you decided what to do about Wolfric’s letter?”
It would be better to know the worse than to wait in fear, she told herself when doubt began to creep up.
“Not yet,” he said, still not looking up at her.
For a second, Bethany wondered if her brother was ashamed of her and unwilling to meet her gaze. She forced the fear-induced rage down into the pit of her stomach.
“Okay,” she whispered before slipping away.
“Bethany,” her brother called from his place beside his map.
Bethany turned to look at him.
“I’ve got to go to the front for a few days. We’ll discuss it when I get back.”
Bethany felt her eyes prick with tears. That would mean days of anxiety. She nodded mutely before turning away.
The princess found herself back in the stairwell of the southern tower, unsure how she had traveled there. Bethany sat down and covered her face with her hands. She knew her mother would be looking for her, but she couldn’t bear to be around the queen.
Not just yet, she told herself.
Bethany thought back to all those months of travel, when her sole hope and dream had been to get home so that she could be a servant to her family. Now she was completely reunited with them, a fantasy she had never allowed herself to think on, and yet it seemed to hold no wonder or glory. In fact, Bethany had to admit to herself that she was perfectly miserable.
In all her dreaming, she had never imagined herself hating her life back within the safety of her home castle, but the fact was her adventure had changed her.
She needed an occupation, she admitted to herself. She needed a friend. She needed Erin.
Erin urged Éimhin into a trot as he emerged onto a proper road. He had spent a week in the damp cave, fighting each morning to keep himself there rather than running back to Dothan. Yesterday, though, he had lost the fight and packed up his gear. A few more days and he would be in Dothan.
Just to make sure she’s happy, he told himself for the thousandth time.
If she was safe and happy, or even content, he would turn around again and settle down somewhere. Maybe he would join the city guard in Carthind or offer his protective services to a wealthier farmer. He even considered rejoining the Lurran, but rejected the idea when he remembered how they had stared at him as he shadowed the princess.
Erin was just beginning to doze in the saddle—more out of boredom than being tired—when he heard a horse scream in pain. Instinct forced him to drive his heels into Éimhin’s sides. The sound had come from ahead of him, and so he charged forward, ready to save whatever poor traveler had been caught by bandits.
Erin wondered when in the recent months it had become his instinct to run toward the scream rather than shy away from it. He suspected it had happened during his months with Bethany. She had needed his saving enough times to make it a habit, but he suspected it was more than just her habitual need for help. She had taught him to consider others rather than just himself.
Had Erin known what he was racing to he might have reconsidered. He crested a slight hill and discovered it was not a small group of travelers being attacked by a band of robbers, but a royal procession surrounded by a well-organized mob of discontents. Erin wondered if Bethany could be in the parade of royal horses, flags flapping above their heads. He urged Éimhin into a gallop down the shallow hill.
Erin drew his sword and brought two vagabonds to the ground before the royal guard noticed his help. A captain glared at him for a moment before pointing him toward a dense mob of men with prohibited swords. Erin obeyed the order, more out of agreement than out of an instinct to obey. It had been a long time since he had been the one receiving orders rather than giving them.
Éimhin turned and cantered to the group, quickly bringing them in range of Erin’s thirsty sword. With his help, the royal guards quickly dispatched the group of discontents. At some point during the battle Erin realized Bethany was not in the group, but the king was, fighting alongside Erin as though he were not the revered ruler of his little nation.
When the last man fell to the ground, the king turned to look at him.
“I don’t believe I know you, sir, but you have my thanks. You have a deadly swing,” added the king as he looked at the blood dripping from Erin’s sword.
Erin half nodded, half bowed to the young king.
“Care to come work for me?” asked the king.
“It would be my honor,” Erin said before he knew what he was about.
“Excellent. King Gilead,” he said, reaching out a hand in an amiable way. “And you are?”
Erin froze. Should he tell Gilead the truth? If they knew Bethany’s story they may think he might be the cause of her scars, and though he was, he didn’t want her brother to know it. They wouldn’t understand the peace that had come to exist between him and the princess. Then again, Erin didn’t want to live under a false name for the rest of his life.
“I should be honest with you, my lord, before you take me as an employee.”
“Always a good policy,” said the king, sounding more curious than concerned.
“My name is Sir Erin Caldry. I once served King Wolfric.”
“Once? Then you must have known my sister while she was there.”
Erin’s face didn’t reveal the twinge of guilt he felt in his gut. He was too well schooled in deception to let his emotions show when he didn’t want them to.
“You’re sister? I left nearly a year ago,” he said, trying to think back to the last time he had been publicly scene at the battlefield under Wolfric’s banner. “She was in Tolad?”
“Aye. Long story. Well…” sighed the king as the captain of the guard joined them. “What are we to do with you? I don’t deny you’ve done us a service.”
“Indeed,” agreed the captain. “You’re well trained.”
Compared to your men I’m a bloody hero, Erin thought to himself, eyeing the men who were quickly bandaging their wounds. Most of the captain’s men were wounded.
“I studied under a skilled knight.”
Gilead nodded. “Come with us. I’ll take you as a personal guard, but note that until I feel cer
tain of your fidelity, you will not be alone with any of the royal family. Do we have an agreement?”
Erin nodded. “Perfectly, my lord.”
Gilead nodded and waved for the procession to continue down the road, leaving a few unlucky men behind to deal with the dead renegades.
What the hell have you done, old fool? Erin wondered as he turned Éimhin to follow the king to Dothan.
Chapter Eight
Bethany heard the trumpets heralding her brother’s return from her bedroom. She had spent the week of his absence in continual anxiety. The small daily tasks her mother had set to her had done little to alleviate her boredom, and therefore did nothing to take her mind off the ever-present question: Would her brother send her to Tolad and Féderic’s bed?
The princess waved at Cilia, who had been reading aloud to them, dismissing the young lady-in-waiting. Cilia gave her a little bow before leaving the room, no doubt, to report to the queen on Bethany’s lethargy.
Bethany had no proof that Cilia was spying for the queen, but she couldn’t shake the suspicion from her mind. Bethany continued to stare at her little room for a long moment before heaving herself up from her place on the bear-fur rug laid out beside her fireplace. If Cilia was reporting to the queen she would most likely tell Debowrah how her daughter had chosen to lounge across the fur rather than take the offered seat like a lady.
But Bethany couldn’t bring herself to care.
With her fears and anxiety over Wolfric’s offer came a certain level of apathy. If her fate was indeed set, she had nothing to do but to accept it and do her best to survive it.
No, that’s not true, the rebellious part of her mind countered. You can run away.
Bethany tried not to listen to that part of her consciousness, but it was difficult to ignore the calling of the wide world. Bethany pushed all her thoughts and emotions down to where she knew they wouldn’t show on her face as she descended the long steps to the main level.
She met her mother and a few other nobles at the large door to the keep and followed them down the steps. Bethany wasn’t paying much attention to the procession that trotted through the gatehouse and settled near the stables. Men dismounted, handing their mounts off to squires and stable boys. The guards led their own horses away while Gilead and those in his close circle headed straight to where the queen waited.
Bethany felt no real interest in the return of men she had known all her life. Her eyes trailed over to the stable, more interested in their horses and their forbidden weapons. Without thinking, Bethany strayed a little to one side of the wide steps to get a better look at a horse, thereby placing herself at some distance from the other women of the keep.
The largest of the great horses caught her eye. She knew those markings, but it couldn’t be.
Bethany pushed her gaze over to the men coming up to the steps, noticing that her brother had thrown his arm over a man’s shoulders in an unusually intimate fashion. Once the duo reached the bottom of the steps, Gilead disengaged himself and trotted up the steps to kiss his mother on the cheek.
Bethany watched the new man slowly turn his familiar face to her.
Time stopped. Bethany felt her feet moving on their own accord, taking her straight to the scarred knight, just as she let out a muffled gasp.
Erin gave her a nearly imperceptible shake of his head before lazily dragging his eyes over the crowd as though he had not just recognized a long-lost friend.
The world came back into focus and Bethany realized what she had nearly done. She had been ready to throw herself into Erin’s arms—the one place she felt safe from whatever the world had in store for her. Had she done this, unimaginable explanations would have been required, and she doubted any of them would have been sufficient to keep Gilead from beheading Erin right then and there for daring to touch his little sister. Never mind that Erin had saved her life.
Bethany felt her breathing coming in shallow gasps as she thought through the ramifications of her near-mistake. She forced her body to relax as she turned her descent into a casual walk through the group slowly making its way into the keep. Occasionally she spotted Erin’s eyes flicking to wherever she stood.
What is he doing here? she wondered, her mind screaming at her in a perfect mix of a joy and panic.
Not knowing what story he had given Gilead, she had no idea how she was supposed to treat him. Had Erin told the king where he hailed from? Did Gilead think they knew each other? All she could do was respond to whatever was said. She could not initiate for fear of ruining whatever façade Erin had presented. She didn’t even know if he was going by the name Caldry.
Finally, the group reached the great hall and settled into seats positioned around the great central fire. Bethany found a perch outside the group where she could easily keep Erin within her line of sight without actually staring at him.
“Ah, Mother,” said Gilead after a few pleasantries had been passed around. “Let me introduce you to Sir Erin Caldry. He saved my neck on the road. Couldn’t help but bring him home.”
“Sir Caldry,” the queen said, her eyes trying to respectfully stay off his long scar as she offered the knight her hand.
Erin bowed over the queen’s hand, barely brushing his lips across the back of her hand.
“The good man comes from Tolad, but has left Wolfric’s services.”
“Really?” asked Debowrah, barely masking her disdain.
“Yes, my lady. I could not stomach Wolfric’s actions any longer and came in hope of finding refuge. It was just my good fortune that I was able to assist the king in some small way.”
Gilead thumped Erin across the back.
“You wouldn’t be the same Sir Caldry I’ve heard of?” asked the queen, disdain still tinting her voice.
Erin blushed, causing his scars to stand out. “I’m afraid so, my lady.”
“Sir Caldry’s sworn his allegiance to me, Mother, and has agreed to my terms. Sir Caldry will not be allowed to be alone with any member of the royal family until I give my okay.”
Bethany winced. It would be ages before her brother trusted Erin, and yet she needed to talk to him in private as soon as she could. Erin ducked his head in admission to the king’s statements as Debowrah gave them both a regal nod.
“Speaking of family, where are my siblings? Ah, Bethany, there you are. Come. Meet Sir Caldry.”
Bethany rose from her seat and glided over to where the men stood, holding out her hand. She noticed it shook a little as Erin took it in his great calloused hands. Lightning shot from her fingertips up to her chest at his touch. He squeezed her fingers just hard enough to send a message of welcome before leaning over it and pressing his lips firmly to the back of her hand.
She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking. “Sir Caldry. You are most welcome if you mean to work against Wolfric.”
“Oh yes,” said Gilead with excitement. “Did you two know each other when you were in Tolad, Bethany?”
Bethany glanced at Erin, unsure what story he had given her brother.
“You were in Tolad, my lady?” asked Erin, taking charge of the conversation.
“I’m afraid so. I was Wolfric’s prisoner for a time.”
Erin frowned down at her. “That must have been after I left his services. It’s been nearly a year since I served him.”
“Yes. I do not remember seeing you there,” lied Bethany.
She had seen Erin there. She had seen him nearly every day of her captivity, and every day after it until he had abandoned her on the doorsteps of Dothan. Bethany pushed those thoughts away before her tears could betray her. No explanation for his actions could be attained with their audience.
“How did you return to Dothan?” asked the scarred knight, clearly seeking out what story she had given her family.
Bethany stared up at him, her anger and hurt peeking through her eyes. “I came to Dothan alone.”
In that short sentence, Bethany revealed all her feelings about his abandonmen
t, and to her relief, he caught it. Bethany saw the guilt in his expressive eyes.
“And what do you prefer to be called, Sir Caldry?” asked Bethany to distract herself.
Erin forced a smile to his lips. “Erin, if you’d like.”
“Erin? I thought perhaps you might have some special nickname.”
“In Tolad they called me Cal.”
“But not anymore?” asked Bethany.
Erin’s smile deepened. “No. That man no longer exists.”
Bethany couldn’t help but return his smile as they enjoyed their secret memory. During their long months together, she had begun to call him Erin. When he asked her about it, she had explained that he was not Cal anymore. That man had stayed behind in Tolad.
“Good answer. Welcome to Dothan.”
“And where is Ob?” Gilead asked while Bethany obediently returned to her seat.
Debowrah let out a frustrated sigh. “Nowhere to be found, as usual. I do wish you would take him in hand.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Ma.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Ma,” said the king as he settled back into his seat and let out a sigh.
A servant brought around drinks to everyone. Erin noticed that the woman was well fed, clean, and healthy, unlike anyone serving Wolfric. In fact, Erin spotted multiple workers in the great hall, chatting happily as they worked at the other end of the large room.
Erin’s eyes drifted over to where Bethany sat. She looked well enough, but sad. Though she was clearly well fed, something about her appeared off. Though she was as beautiful as ever, something was troubling her. He couldn’t decide what in the swift glance he allowed himself, and it would be days before he could ask her in private if she was okay.
He would have to be patient—not his strongest attribute.
“Now,” continued the young king. “I suppose we need to address this Wolfric issue before too much longer.”
The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy Page 65
