Defender of Hearts

by Tanya Bird

  She caught that thought.

  That was only because he was more familiar to her. Perfectly natural after spending so much time together. When her eyes flicked to the bodyguard, she found him scowling, his jaw clenched. He was as uneasy in the king’s presence as she was—or perhaps uneasy on her behalf.

  ‘Elbow up, elbow up,’ Borin said, tapping her arm with two sharp fingers.

  She was relieved when he finally stepped back. Looking down her arrow, she slowed her breath and let go. The arrow pierced the middle of the target. She knew it was a mistake the second she turned back to the king.

  ‘Beginner’s luck,’ he said, snatching the bow from her hands. ‘Very common.’

  Why had she done that? Much better to miss completely than to wound his pride. She moved aside, eyes meeting Astin’s in the process. He winked at her before looking away.

  Borin never offered her another turn. He spent the next hour showing off while she smiled and feigned interest in his mediocre skills.

  She studied his showy gestures. Listened carefully to the words coming from his mouth. All while trying to picture herself as his wife, her hand in his as they took vows to love and be faithful to one another.

  Lies.

  She would not love him, and he would not be faithful to her. How could she ever love a man who put vengeance above all else? Though love had never really been on the cards for her anyway. Her uncle expected an advantageous marriage—though never in place of his own flesh and blood. Thinking back to their conversation at the festival, she suspected Thomas had known what was coming.

  Dropping the bow on the ground, Borin turned to her suddenly. ‘I know Mother has already spoken to you of her wishes, so I shall not go over the details of the arrangement again. She assures me you will be cooperative over the coming weeks, compliant.’

  Compliant? If her sisters had been present, they would have fallen to the ground in a fit of laughter, clutching their aching stomachs. It was the strangest commencement of a courtship speech she could fathom.

  ‘And we shall see what comes of it,’ he concluded.

  She suspected there was a middle part she had missed.

  ‘Perhaps we could dine together this evening,’ she suggested. ‘Get to know one another a little better.’

  He stared at her. ‘You think I do not know you?’

  ‘We’ve barely exchanged a handful of words.’

  ‘Sometimes that is all one needs to form an opinion.’ He looked in the direction of the castle. ‘I will be travelling to the farming borough tomorrow for business. Mother thinks it might be a good idea if you accompany me, let people get used to seeing you at my side. Fletcher can keep you out of trouble while I am taking meetings.’

  Another string pulled by his mother.

  ‘We merchants do love our trouble,’ she said lightly.

  ‘I am well aware of the fact,’ he said without humour. ‘If this union does indeed go ahead, let us pray our sons take after me and are born sound of mind.’

  Lyndal had no idea whether to laugh or throw mud at him. The things that spilled from his mouth should have remained private thoughts.

  She fell into a curtsy, wanting the conversation to be over. ‘Until tomorrow, Your Majesty.’

  ‘If this is truly a courtship, there is no need for such formalities. You may address me as “Your Grace”.’

  Lyndal bit her top lip to stop the laughter rising up her throat. ‘Until tomorrow, Your Grace.’

  ‘That went well,’ Lyndal said to Astin as they made their way back to the castle.

  He took in her rounded shoulders as they climbed the steps. ‘What were you expecting? Sonnets?’

  ‘I was expecting manners. The man has a mother.’

  They entered the castle and made their way along the shadowy corridor. When they reached her quarters, Lyndal turned to him.

  ‘Can I show you something?’

  He nodded and followed her into the solar, leaving the door open behind him. Lyndal went to the table by the window and picked up a stack of parchment, handing it to him. He ran his eyes over the first page. It was a list of projects with potential dates next to each one.

  ‘What’s all this?’ he asked.

  ‘These are all the things I’ll do if I become queen.’

  He flicked through the pages until he reached a detailed sketch of an almshouse.

  ‘Queen Fayre has already agreed to fund that,’ she said.

  ‘So long as you marry her son and play by the rules.’ He continued sifting through, page after page of ideas, ideas that would be inevitably shot down by the king. He stopped when he arrived at a sketch of a lavender bush. ‘Lavender?’

  ‘To attract bees.’

  He looked at her. ‘When was the last time you saw a bee in Chadora?’

  ‘They’ll come if there’s lavender. I’ll plant it everywhere.’

  ‘And where will you get this lavender from?’

  She tipped her face up to him. ‘Queen Fayre has a pot of it on the terrace.’

  ‘That bush never flowers.’

  She took the parchment from his hands and placed them back on the table. ‘Must you defenders always be such wet blankets?’

  He watched her. ‘So that’s what you did in here for three days? Planned out all your post-wedding activities?’

  ‘I was trying to figure out if the sacrifice would be worth it.’

  ‘And you think it will? That you’ll miraculously be happy with him?’

  She breathed out. ‘One can find happiness outside their marriage.’

  ‘Give me one example,’ he shot back.

  ‘Queen Fayre.’

  A laugh fell from him. ‘Queen Fayre fled to Toryn the moment her sons were old enough to fend for themselves. Is that your big plan? Give him an heir and a spare, then run?’ He pointed at the stack of parchment. ‘I didn’t see that in your notes.’

  Her cheeks heated.

  ‘Plus,’ he continued, ‘you come across as the kind of woman who would be painfully involved in her children’s lives, not absent.’

  Her mouth fell open. ‘Painfully involved?’

  ‘You know what I mean. It’s a compliment. You’ll be a great mother.’

  That appeared to ease her agitation. ‘I’ll admit, I always pictured a very different sort of father for these imaginary children. A hard worker with useful skills to pass down. A man who taught respect by example.’

  A strong work ethic was important to merchants.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘King Borin can teach your children to shoot a bow instead.’

  ‘As long as his bow is properly aligned.’

  ‘And there is no rain to throw his aim.’

  She laughed that pretty laugh of hers, and he fell silent as he watched it play out.

  ‘I should go,’ he said. ‘Leave you to write that letter to your family explaining the whole “you’re about to be their queen” thing.’

  She sighed. ‘You might need extra security at the gate post-delivery.’

  He grinned at the ground as he backed away.

  ‘You think I’m making a mistake, don’t you?’ she asked, all humour gone from her voice.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s not my place to comment on who you marry.’

  ‘But I want you onside.’ She shook her head, embarrassed. ‘What I meant is—’

  ‘I know what you meant. You want a friend this side of the wall.’

  Her eyes searched his. ‘Do I still have to call you Fletcher?’

  ‘I think we can drop the formalities now. You can address me as “Your Superiorship”.’

  He turned to the door, and her laughter was the last thing he heard as he pulled it closed behind him.

  Chapter 19

  ‘I have some business to tend to in the merchant borough,’ King Borin said through a baricade of guards as they headed for the wall.

  Lyndal was supposed to accompany the king on horseback while he conducted business in the f
arming borough. A visit to the merchant borough had not been part of the plan. She knew there was only one reason for such a detour—and she was not prepared for it. The packed square waiting for them on the other side confirmed her fears.

  Her mare stepped sideways as the portcullis rose. ‘Easy, girl,’ Lyndal said, knowing the animal was feeding off her nervous energy.

  ‘You don’t have to watch,’ Astin said quietly beside her. ‘We’ll wait at the back.’

  Apparently her bodyguard was a mind reader. ‘Trial or execution?’

  Astin nudged his horse forwards. ‘Both.’

  As they entered the borough, her eyes went to the three men lined up against the wall, their hands tied in front of them.

  ‘I shall address the crowd, and then we can leave,’ the king told her through a gap in his guards. ‘It can be a long wait for them to die, and we have a schedule to keep.’

  Lyndal pressed her eyes shut.

  It was time for one of Borin’s infamous speeches.

  As the king strode off, she tried to imagine a lifetime of his speeches. Perhaps he would write some just for her. Daily lectures detailing all the different ways she had disappointed him.

  ‘Your sisters are here,’ Astin said, pulling her from her thoughts. ‘And judging by the looks on their faces, I think they received your letter.’

  Heart thudding, Lyndal searched for them amid the hungry faces, spotting them at the edge of the square. It was clear they had not come for the execution.

  As soon as the king was out of sight, Blake and Eda approached the horses.

  ‘Are you going to dismount willingly, or shall we drag you from your mount?’ Blake asked.

  Lyndal looked to Astin, who was waiting for her reply. ‘She threatens to drag me from my horse and you just sit there?’

  He shrugged. ‘If they pull a weapon on you, I’ll be sure to lend a hand.’

  Exhaling noisily, Lyndal dismounted and went to face her sisters. She braced when Blake came at her, but then her sister surprised her by pulling her into her arms, holding so tightly Lyndal teared up. As much as she wanted to fix the broken kingdom, the personal cost would be enormous.

  ‘Imagine my disappointment,’ the king shouted out over the crowd, ‘discovering that the people I work so hard to protect choose to fight me every step of the way.’

  Lyndal led her sisters away from the crowd so they could speak. Astin followed with the horses, leaving enough distance to allow them privacy. Years of guarding the king had taught him how to be close and invisible at the same time.

  So it’s true, then? Eda signed. You’re really going to marry him?

  ‘Nothing’s official. It’s a trial, of sorts.’

  Blake was staring at her like she had antlers. ‘So you’re courting?’

  How she hated that word. ‘Courtship makes it all sound so pleasant. Right now we’re just trying to get along.’

  Then why do it at all? Eda signed.

  ‘Your letter was a little light on details,’ Blake said, glaring. ‘I’m guessing this was one of Queen Fayre’s bold ideas.’

  Lyndal chewed her lip. ‘Her reasoning is sound.’

  ‘Sound for whom?’ Blake said. ‘You do understand what marriage entails? You’ll share a bed with him, birth his monstrous babies, and spend your leisure hours watching him hang people just like us.’

  Lyndal let out a shaky breath. ‘If I’m queen, I’ll be able to help people like us.’

  Mother was too upset to come, Eda signed.

  Lyndal rubbed her forehead where a headache was starting. ‘She was the one who wanted me to go to court. She said it would open doors. Well, a door opened.’

  Blake grabbed hold of her arms. ‘When the door to hell opens, you slam it shut, not step inside.’

  Lyndal pulled out of her grip. ‘Look around you. People are still dying. As a merchant, I can help a handful of them at best. But if I’m queen, I can lift the entire borough.’

  Eda swallowed and looked away.

  ‘Have you forgotten what he did?’ Blake asked, her expression pleading.

  Lyndal shook her head. ‘How could you ask me that? The reminders are everywhere—and these people are still living it.’ She looked in the king’s direction. He was wrapping up his speech, which meant she was almost out of time. ‘I’m going to help these people, and it would be really nice if you had my back. Don’t stand there and tell me I’m stupid. Tell me I’m brave.’

  When Blake did not reply, she turned away, eyes stinging. ‘Tell Mother I said hello.’ She headed for her horse.

  ‘Don’t marry him,’ Blake called, following her. ‘We’ll find another way to help these people.’

  Astin stepped in front of Blake. ‘If you make a scene, your sister will pay the price.’

  When Eda went for Astin, Blake blocked her with one arm. ‘Easy, sister. He’s just doing his job.’ Though she stared daggers at him as she spoke the words.

  ‘Ladies,’ Astin said, turning to mount his horse.

  A strangled cry made them all look in the direction of the square. One of the men was being hoisted up, the soles of his shoes scraping stone in a vain attempt to ease the pressure around his neck. Then came the familiar cries of a heartbroken family. Loved ones were shoved back as a barrier of defenders stood their ground.

  When Lyndal looked at her sisters, she saw their trauma matched her own. Nothing was going to change unless someone actively tried to change it.

  She could be that person.

  She could win the king’s trust, become a puppeteer.

  Filled with a newfound determination, she watched Borin stride back to his horse, completely unaffected by the scene behind him.

  Her sisters retreated to the safety of the crowd, watching her with heartbroken expressions.

  Stand tall and strong, warrior, Blake signed to her.

  It was what their father used to say to them when they were young, and she imagined him saying those words to her now.

  The king trotted past with his circle of guards, not bothering to check if she was ready to depart.

  ‘Ready?’ Astin asked in his place.

  I love you, she signed to her sisters before turning her horse away. ‘Ready.’

  The king’s guards fell back when they entered the farming borough, enabling Lyndal to ride at the king’s side. Astin followed a few paces behind them, listening as Lyndal asked Borin questions about the farms they passed. The king edged his horse closer to hers as he explained things as though she were an imbecile. She nodded along to everything he said, like he was the most interesting man alive. And even though he understood the game, jealousy reared inside him.

  Every now and then, she would look over her shoulder, checking that he was still behind her. It showed she was afraid—and that fear was justified. King Borin was the one man Astin could not protect her from.

  The first farm they called upon had once been known for its barley. Now chickens roamed in place of failed crops. Borin presented Lyndal to the farmers like she was a prize sheep, watching their reaction as she moved between them, smiling and asking questions. She even crouched down to speak with the younger children. She was pure sunshine, the epitome of everything missing from their farming lives.

  Satisfied, the king went to speak privately with the owner. Lyndal wandered along the boundaries of the paddocks with the owner’s wife, nodding thoughtfully as she absorbed each response. Astin tried to give them as much space as was safe for her, as the farming borough was considered neutral territory for both her and the king. But that was not to say the farmers were content with how things were being run.

  When the king returned to the horses, they all mounted and rode out.

  ‘Would you consider that one of the larger farms in the borough?’ Lyndal asked the king as they exited.

  ‘I would say average in terms of size and produce. Why do you ask?’

  She looked to the mass of chickens scratching in the muddy fields. ‘I was just curious.’ />
  When they headed west instead of north, dread filled Astin. The next farm they would arrive at was his. King Borin had failed to mention it was on the agenda. It was probably because people no longer connected him to the farm. He was a defender now, and the farm had fallen into Cooper’s hands long ago.

  The moment they entered the property, his stepfather exited the house, squinting in their direction. His mother remained by the door as she removed her apron and smoothed back her hair. It had greyed considerably since the last time he had seen her.

  ‘Home sweet home, right, Fletcher?’ the king said over his shoulder with a smirk.

  Lyndal looked back at Astin. ‘This is where you grew up?’

  ‘He was not much of a farmer,’ Borin said. ‘Or so I have been told.’

  Astin wet his lips and kept silent. Cooper Brooke had likely painted a picture of him, and now was not the time to correct it. Astin met his stepfather’s eyes as he dismounted, the darkest shade of brown he had ever seen on a man. He had always thought them black as a child.

  ‘We just passed your lambs,’ King Borin said, walking over to him.

  ‘Born a week back, Your Majesty,’ Cooper said, bowing to the king. ‘All healthy as horses.’ His eyes went to Lyndal, assessing her for the longest time. ‘This must be the lovely Lady Lyndal I’ve been hearing about.’

  Astin fought the urge to move in front of her.

  ‘Lady Lyndal of Cardelle Manor,’ Borin said. ‘Lord Thomas’s niece.’

  Her title just kept getting longer.

  Lyndal made no move towards him. She simply nodded a greeting before looking past him to where Astin’s mother stood. ‘And you must be Fletcher’s mother.’

  Lari glanced at Cooper, then offered her a tired smile. ‘Please to meet you, my lady.’

  ‘Shall we take a closer look at these lambs?’ the king said, cutting the greeting short.

  ‘Can I trust you to behave in my absence?’ Cooper asked Astin.