Defender of Hearts

by Tanya Bird

  Even the farmers were now complaining.

  Borin’s ever-tightening control over the borough was not only destroying relationships with buyers but prevented farmers from slaughtering animals for their own personal consumption. Yet according to his sister who lived and worked there, livestock numbers were up from the previous year. So where was all the extra meat? Certainly not going to the merchants, who continued to pay exorbitant prices for scraps of offal and bare bones.

  Borin slipped from the saddle and joined him on the ground. ‘Remind me of the daughter’s name again? It might help me remember what she looks like.’

  ‘Lady Kendra,’ Astin said, handing his horse’s reins over to the waiting groom.

  ‘Ah, now I remember.’ He nodded as details returned to him. ‘Fair girl, large cheeks.’

  Astin glanced at the groom, who was very much within earshot. The problem with the king’s descriptions was that they were rarely complimentary, and he was by no means selective with his audience. He had once described a lady as ‘the droopy-faced woman with the witch nose’ to her brother. The rest of that particular dinner had been rather awkward—even if King Borin had not been aware of the fact.

  The royal wagon rolled to a stop a few feet away, and Queen Fayre peered out from beneath the rounded top, taking in the sight of the house. If there was a suitor being pushed in the king’s direction, you could be sure the queen mother would be close by to evaluate her. While she had been keen for her son to marry the Toryn princess, Toryn’s recent loss of herds to murrain had her rethinking her strategy.

  ‘Shall we?’ Fayre said, stepping down and walking past them towards the house.

  Borin followed his mother, obedient son that he was. Astin drew a breath and trailed after them.

  Inside, Lord Thomas waited in the foyer, his elaborately dressed wife and daughter standing stoically behind him. Astin’s feet stopped when his eyes landed on Lyndal standing alone by the stairs. She wore a long-sleeved green dress, tailored at the waist. Her golden hair was in two tucked braids, lips painted pink. She was one of those women who drew a lot of attention with little to no effort.

  As if sensing his eyes on her, she glanced in his direction, then straightened. He nodded a greeting before turning his attention back to the king.

  ‘And you remember my daughter, Kendra,’ Lord Thomas was saying.

  The king looked her up and down as she lowered into a well-rehearsed curtsy. ‘Yes, of course.’ He tilted his head as he studied her face. ‘You have grown up since I saw you last, thinned out in the face.’

  Kendra responded to the backhanded compliment with her most brilliant smile. ‘Very much a woman now, Your Majesty.’

  Astin snuck a glance at Lyndal. She was watching the exchange with equal amusement. Her smile was something else entirely, the kind that made people fall silent to watch it play out.

  ‘And this must be the famous cousin I have been hearing so much about,’ the queen said, looking past Kendra to where Lyndal stood.

  Thomas stepped aside. ‘My wife’s niece. Born in the merchant borough. My daughter has been kind enough to take her under her wing.’

  The queen looked Lyndal over. ‘I assume the merchant girl has a name?’

  Lyndal moved forwards and curtsied with equal grace to her cousin. ‘Lyndal, Your Majesty.’

  The king frowned at her. ‘Well, well. Haven’t you come a long way since you stopped me in the middle of the street and begged for my help?’ He glanced at his mother. ‘Naturally I obliged. I am the people’s king, after all.’

  Astin looked at the ground and swallowed down the cough in his throat.

  ‘You have a good memory, Your Majesty,’ Lyndal replied. ‘Your help at the time was much appreciated.’

  ‘And then we were reunited in the square the day you confessed to killing my father,’ Borin added.

  Thomas suddenly did not know where to look. His wife clasped her nervous hands together in front of her while Kendra’s smile froze in a very strange position.

  ‘Excellent memory, it turns out,’ Lyndal said, her tone breezy.

  The queen only laughed. ‘Ignore him. Many merchants confessed to a crime they did not commit that day. That is what one does in order to protect the people they love from being shot dead.’

  Borin’s cheeks coloured a little. ‘Perhaps if you had not shown up in a mood, we would know who the killer is.’

  Queen Fayre ignored him, gesturing for her to move closer. ‘Come here.’ She took hold of Lyndal’s face, gently turning it side to side. ‘Such a pretty thing.’ Letting go, she said, ‘I have heard all about the work you are doing in the merchant borough. I wanted to meet you myself and see if the rumours were true.’

  ‘What rumours?’ Thomas asked.

  The queen found a smile. ‘All good things, I assure you.’

  That should have made Thomas happy, but instead he glowered in Lyndal’s direction.

  ‘Your older sister married Commander Wright, is that correct?’ Fayre asked.

  Lyndal nodded. ‘Yes. I’m afraid he got stuck with the entire litter.’

  The queen’s sharp eyes never left her. ‘And yet you return to the merchant borough daily.’

  ‘My family still has a shop there.’

  Fayre nodded. ‘But you do not go for the shop.’

  Lyndal looked around at the people staring at her, Astin among them. ‘I’m in a fortunate position. I can help those who are struggling by cooking a meal, running errands, or simply caring for an infant whose mother is ill. Very small things.’

  ‘Small acts add up,’ Fayre said.

  Thomas cleared his throat. ‘My daughter has played a vital role in teaching Lyndal the ways of a lady.’

  Astin scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. He was fairly certain Kendra had not been to the merchant borough since the Suttone women moved out of there.

  Nodding in agreement, Lyndal said, ‘Lady Kendra is a fine example of what a lady ought to be. Though hopefully we can learn from each other.’

  Borin smirked. ‘And what is it you think a lady can learn from a merchant?’

  Lyndal met his gaze. ‘How to make one carrot stretch across six meals.’

  It was meant as a joke, but there was no humour in her eyes.

  ‘Join us for dinner,’ the queen mother said, her eyes shining with something Astin could not identify.

  Thomas twitched in irritation. ‘I believe Lyndal was going to help out in the kitchen. A merchant cannot have too many skills nowadays.’

  The queen mother looked at Thomas. ‘I think your niece has enough skills, and I would certainly enjoy her company.’

  Lady Victoria placed a hand on her husband’s arm. ‘Let her join us.’

  ‘Fine.’ Thomas gestured abruptly to the dining room. ‘This way.’

  ‘There really are no limits to my mother’s charitable nature,’ Borin said to Thomas as he followed him into the next room.

  Astin stopped in front of Lyndal. ‘As the king’s guard, do I need to watch you with the cutlery this evening?’

  Lyndal stared up at him. ‘I’m honestly surprised you didn’t immediately deem me a threat and haul me away.’

  He leaned in, voice low. ‘I thought I’d be nice and let you eat first.’

  She tilted her head. ‘The chivalry really never ends with you, does it?’

  ‘It really doesn’t.’

  The hostility present during their early encounters had evolved into a squabbling siblings type of relationship. It was fun—some of the time.

  Lyndal still had not moved. Seeing her hesitation, he said, ‘Half merchant, half nobility. You’re the perfect muse. Don’t worry, the queen mother will forget all about you by tomorrow.’

  Lyndal rolled her eyes before walking ahead of him into the dining room.

  ‘Kendra also speaks Latin and French,’ Thomas said, pushing his half-eaten meal away.

  Lyndal stared across the table at it. There was still pork on the bone. If she coul
d get to the kitchen in time, she could take the bones home with her. She would boil them up in a large pot of broth at the shop, encouraging families to come by and take some for soups and stews.

  Her eyes moved from plate to plate, calculating.

  ‘What about you, Lyndal?’ the queen said. ‘Do you speak any other languages?’

  Thomas made a noise that resembled a snort but covered his mouth with a napkin to disguise the fact.

  ‘A little Gaelic,’ she replied, tearing her gaze from her aunt’s plate.

  Borin’s eyebrows rose. ‘Gaelic? That is hardly a sensible choice.’

  ‘Not much of a choice,’ Lyndal replied. ‘Merchants learn what we must in order to conduct business. When French ships start docking in the port, I’m certain every merchant will soon speak French, Your Majesty.’

  The queen mother bit back a smile and laid down her fork. ‘My dear, you are such a breath of fresh air.’

  Lyndal could feel the heat of her uncle’s glare on her once again. She would pay for these compliments later if she did not bring the focus back to her cousin. ‘Speaking of fresh air, you really should take a walk through the gardens after dinner. Lady Kendra’s knowledge of plants and fauna will have you in awe.’

  Kendra picked up her cup. ‘I would be most happy to show you if you can tolerate the rain.’

  ‘We must all tolerate the rain,’ Borin said gallantly, despite the fact that whenever he appeared on the wall for one of his tone-deaf speeches, there was always someone holding a canvas umbrella over him.

  Rising from the table, Lyndal said, ‘Please excuse me. I’m going to see if the cook needs help with the pastries.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Thomas said, visibly pleased by her imminent departure.

  She made her way into the kitchen, where the cook was filling a tray with custard and ginger tarts. Where the rich were getting honey from she had no idea.

  ‘Do you mind keeping the bones for me?’ she asked, popping up beside him.

  He tutted. ‘You trying to get me in trouble?’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

  He shook his head, the beginnings of a smile on his aged lips. ‘If his lordship finds out, I’ll tell him you stole them.’

  She leaned on the bench, smiling. ‘And he’ll believe you. That was plan B, by the way.’

  A low chuckle came from the man, cut short when Astin entered the kitchen. He walked over and began inspecting the tarts.

  ‘Don’t you have a king to look after?’ Lyndal asked.

  ‘That’s what I’m doing. I don’t suppose you’ll help me out by tasting a pastry?’

  The cook glanced up at that. ‘What for? They’re excellent.’

  Astin nodded slowly. ‘That may be, but I should probably check they’re free of poison.’

  The cook only grinned when he should have taken offence at the suggestion.

  ‘And what if someone has poisoned the food?’ she asked, crossing her arms in front of her. ‘Then I’ll die.’

  He searched her face, that semi-smirk of his making an appearance. ‘That’s a risk we’re all prepared to take for the good of the kingdom.’

  The cook chuckled once more.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ Lyndal said, eyes going to him. ‘If you laugh, you’ll only encourage him.’

  Astin moved closer to her. ‘You know, your eyes go a vibrant green when filled with hate for me.’

  She lifted her chin. ‘A familiar shade, then.’

  He winced. ‘Ouch.’

  More laughter from the cook, cut off when Thomas marched into the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and looked straight at Lyndal. ‘You are not stealing kitchen scraps again, are you?’

  ‘Of course not, Uncle,’ she said, taking a step back from Astin. ‘The pastries are on their way.’

  ‘The queen mother will depart soon but wishes to speak with you first. Can I trust you not to embarrass me again?’

  ‘Again?’ Astin asked, turning to him. ‘When did she embarrass you the first time?’

  Lyndal almost fell over when he came to her defence. Though it would not end well for him.

  Thomas’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is there a reason you are standing in my kitchen, defender?’

  ‘Yes, actually,’ Astin replied.

  Thomas waited for him to explain what he was doing. When Astin offered no further information, he mumbled something under his breath before marching back out the door.

  Lyndal turned to Astin, an expression of gratitude on the tip of her tongue, but he spoke before she could.

  ‘You better get out there.’

  Then he was gone from the kitchen also.

  She stared at the door he had disappeared through, a puzzled expression on her face. Glancing at the grinning cook, she said, ‘Bones. Don’t forget,’ then followed them. Her eyes instinctively went to Astin when she entered the dining room. He was standing by the wall—not looking at her.

  ‘Queen Fayre has invited me to court,’ Kendra said, drawing her attention to the table. Her cousin’s eyes were lit with excitement.

  ‘That’s wonderful.’ Lyndal slipped back into her chair, eyes meeting the queen’s. ‘I assure you she’s wonderful company.’

  Fayre adjusted the tart on her plate. ‘I would like it if you accompanied your cousin for the remainder of the season, as I suspect you are also good company.’

  ‘Is that appropriate?’ Borin asked with a mouth full of pastry. ‘The girl’s fortunes may have turned, but she is still a merchant by definition.’

  ‘I must agree with the king,’ Lord Thomas said, sitting forwards in his chair. ‘We would hate to contribute to any scandal at court.’

  The queen stared coolly back at him. ‘I am quite capable of choosing the company I keep.’ She pushed her plate away. ‘Lyndal will join her cousin for the remainder of the spring, unless there are any viable objections.’

  The uncomfortable silence that followed made Lyndal want to crawl under the table. She was still wrestling with the idea of ‘spring’. Referencing seasons was pointless as Europe continued to suffer through a decade-long winter. Seasons were only differentiated by how heavy and often the rain fell. Though winter did bring an occasional dusting of snow that quickly turned to slush.

  Realising that everyone was waiting for her reply, she said, ‘That is a very generous invitation…’

  ‘You are quite welcome,’ the queen said, not giving her a chance to add a ‘but’. She pulled her plate closer and picked up the tart, taking a small bite. Her eyes closed as she chewed. ‘I am quite tempted to invite your cook along also.’

  Kendra laughed, though it was a little on the awkward side. Lady Victoria smiled politely while Thomas stared hard at his fork. Borin was helping himself to another tart. When Lyndal braved another look at Astin, she found him watching her with a dark expression she could not translate. He was likely unhappy at the prospect of her venturing into his territory.

  She was going to need to ready herself for a long and frosty spring.

  Chapter 5

  Astin walked the muddy road to the gate that separated the royal and farming boroughs, a large knot in his stomach. His sister only ever came to him with bad news. The last time had been twelve months earlier, when rinderpest had found its way to the herd. They tracked the disease back to a bull their stepfather had purchased from outside the wall. Thankfully, Presley had acted at the first sign of symptoms, isolating the sick to prevent spread to neighbouring farms.

  Six months before that, it had been a wild dog attack. They had dug under the wall and taken the new lambs as they were being born.

  Now Presley stood on the other side of the gate wearing her usual wary expression, auburn hair plaited to one side and dark circles enclosing her amber eyes. She worked harder than any man he knew.

  Astin watched her through the portcullis as it rose, and she watched him right back. He walked beneath the archway and away from the guards. Presley tucked the piece of parchment she carried, which all
owed her to ask for him at the gate, into her dress and followed him. She stopped a few feet from him when he turned to face her.

  ‘You look well.’ Her tone was flat. ‘At least we know where all the food is going.’

  It was an uncomfortable thought that he had more access to meat than the farmers producing it. He knew King Borin had men tracking every ear of wheat grown and every chicken hatched in that borough. When his family lost the lambs to the dogs, the king had sent defenders to the farm to investigate.

  ‘Everything all right?’ he asked. ‘Rose? Mother?’ The latter was the news he was expecting any day now.

  ‘Cooper’s finally done it,’ Presley would say. ‘He beat our mother to death.’

  ‘Rose is good.’

  Rose was their half-sister who had been born a few years after he left the borough. He had only seen her a handful of times in her six years but always asked after her.

  ‘And Mother’s fine,’ Presley added. ‘And Cooper.’

  ‘I didn’t ask about Cooper.’

  She studied him a moment, no doubt trying to read his mood before continuing. ‘I’m getting married.’

  Astin’s eyebrows shot up, though he had no idea why he was surprised. She was twenty-two years old, and her friends were dropping babies all over the borough. ‘Married? To whom?’

  ‘Chadwick Wesleye.’

  Astin leaned his weight on one foot. ‘Royce Wesleye’s boy?’

  She lifted her gaze. ‘He’s not a boy anymore. He’s twenty and three.’

  Astin tried to picture the little thug as a man. ‘He still throw rocks at sheep?’

  She gave him a tired look. ‘He was eleven when he did that.’

  ‘I didn’t catch any other boys his age doing it.’

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe you would have if you stuck around for longer.’

  He did not miss the pain that flashed in her eyes. She was never going to forgive him for leaving, despite knowing his reasons. ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘Does that matter?’