Dawn of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  ‘I doubt Eliza would much fancy the heat, Captain.’

  ‘Can’t blame her there,’ Swinton quipped, not taking his eyes off Eliza as she brought three horses into an empty corral.

  ‘Don’t let us delay you, Commander, Captain,’ Emmett said, wiping his hands on the sides of his trousers. ‘We know you are busy men.’

  Fi shrugged. ‘Sir Caleb has provided refreshments for you in the gardens. We’d like to join you before returning to our duties.’

  Swinton stopped himself from shooting Fi a look of incredulity. His friend couldn’t have been more blatant if he’d tried.

  The small group strolled towards the gardens, Swinton once more finding himself beside Eliza. He kept stealing glances at her, unable to quite believe she was here at his family’s home.

  ‘How do you like Heathton?’ he asked, shoving his fidgeting hands in his pockets.

  ‘I’ve never been one for the city. It’s too compact,’ she said. ‘But it’s beautiful out here. I’ve never been to this estate before …’ Then, boldly, she added: ‘Perhaps you could show me around?’

  ‘I’d love —’ Swinton cut himself off. ‘Won’t your father mind?’

  ‘My father knows I’m my own person.’ She walked ahead and squeezed Emmett’s shoulder. ‘Da, Dimitri’s going to show me the grounds.’

  Swinton didn’t know what sort of response he’d been expecting from the stable master, but Emmett’s content nod was not it. Having grown up around strict noblemen and their daughters, this ease between Emmett and Eliza was dumbfounding.

  Eliza caught his look of surprise as they peeled away from Fi and the others.

  ‘What?’ she asked.

  Swinton frowned. ‘It’s just … I’ve not known a man to let his daughter —’

  ‘Let?’

  ‘Well —’

  ‘Da doesn’t let me do anything. I’m a grown woman, Dimitri. Not a child. My choices are my own.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘But nothing. That’s something I can’t stand about the capital. For all its promise and development, it’s backwards in so many ways.’

  Swinton chewed the inside of his cheek as they crossed the wet grass of another field. He knew Heathton wasn’t perfect – what city was? But backwards? He’d never thought of it like that.

  Studying him, Eliza raised a brow. ‘Ask your friend, the captain. I’m sure he’d tell you much the same …’

  A flush crept up Swinton’s neck as he realised she was right. Fi had been treated differently by Ellestian squires from the moment he’d arrived in the capital. While he’d won over the majority with his wicked charm and outstanding battle skills, there were still those who muttered about his origins behind his back, no matter what Swinton did to quell such behaviour.

  ‘I … I didn’t think,’ Swinton said slowly.

  ‘Men of your upbringing usually don’t.’ Her tone wasn’t unkind, but her words hit Swinton square in the chest.

  ‘Is it that different in Willowdale?’

  Eliza considered this, waiting for him to open the gate they’d reached. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘It’s that different in my family. In our community. I cannot speak for a whole village, nor can I know what goes on behind closed doors. All I know is that I was lucky. I am lucky.’

  She gazed at their surroundings as she spoke. Swinton had turned them back around to face the manor. Despite her father’s lack of concern at her absence, Swinton was still wary of keeping her too long. As they slowly made their way back, he churned over what Eliza had shared, risking sidelong glances at her. She took in the lush paddocks stretching across acres, the towering hedges framing the outer grounds of the estate, and the rose gardens, where Fi had led her father and their stable hand.

  ‘This property is probably as big as the Willowdale stable grounds,’ Swinton offered, gesturing to the greenery and grazing horses nearby.

  Eliza chewed her lip. ‘Perhaps …’

  ‘You don’t think so.’

  ‘I think it’s hard to compare a working farmstead to a knight’s manicured lawns … no matter the acreage.’ Her mouth tugged up in the corner, her eyes dancing.

  She was teasing him. Swinton met her gaze, laughter bubbling out of him. He felt lighter than he had in a long while. How was it this simple with her? This comfortable? He couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Fi had made him laugh. Feeling bold, he reached for her hand. It was a skill of hers, he realised, as her rough fingers laced through his. Making people feel at ease.

  Suddenly, his skin prickled. Movement from the manor caught his eye. Sir Caleb was standing on one of the private balconies, staring out at them. Swinton dropped Eliza’s hand quickly. But it was too late. He was close enough to see the subtle shake of his father’s head before he turned and went back inside.

  Eliza looked from their now unlinked hands to the curtains fluttering on the balcony. Swinton could have sworn he saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face, but she said nothing.

  Swinton had the sinking feeling he’d done something wrong as they re-joined the others in the gardens. Eliza was now quiet and tight-lipped, standing beside her father by the refreshment table. Swinton’s stomach churned. He wanted more of her opinions, more of her ideas on the world. He opened his mouth to say something – what, he wasn’t sure – but there was a light tap on his shoulder.

  James was holding out a folded piece of parchment. ‘It seems you are needed at the castle, Commander.’

  Frowning, Swinton opened the note and cursed under his breath. There had been an altercation between two of his guards. He nodded to Fi, who was instantly at his side.

  ‘Emmett, Eliza, my apologies. The captain and I have unforeseen duties at the castle. Please, enjoy the grounds. Should you need anything, James would be happy to oblige.’ His gaze settled upon Eliza as he added: ‘We shall see you at dinner.’

  Swinton’s stomach was in knots as he and Fi rode into the city. An altercation … The missive hadn’t said who was involved, but he had his suspicions. There was only one person in his guard on whom he’d put money for causing trouble.

  Perhaps his father and Fi had been right. He should have removed Siv Lennox from the King’s Army, should have humiliated him and beaten him down into submission.

  Swinton hadn’t planned on coming into Heathton today. He wanted to be back at the estate for dinner with the Carlingtons. If they hurried, they might be able to make it in time. The flicker of disappointment on Eliza’s face flashed before him. He needed more time with her.

  Swinton urged his horse into a gallop. Beside him, Fi followed suit.

  When they reached the castle courtyard, Swinton took a deep breath. It was in absolute disarray, crowded with squires, soldiers and castle guards. Heat rushed to Swinton’s face. Were the king here, this would be disastrous. Sitting straight-backed in the saddle, he pressed his horse through the throng of people.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he boomed.

  Quiet settled as Swinton dismounted. He and Fi made their way to the heart of the fray, where, sure enough, Siv Lennox was being restrained.

  Eyes narrowed, Swinton met Lennox’s glare. One of the man’s eyes was swollen shut. ‘What happened here?’

  ‘Your boy thought he’d take a swing at me,’ Lennox spat, eyeing someone on the ground behind Swinton.

  Swinton turned and nearly groaned in dismay. It was Stefan. His own squire. Stefan gave him a regretful look through the damp hair hanging about his face.

  ‘Stefan?’

  Fi was helping the lad to his feet. Stefan’s face was bloodied, but the way his body was sagging made it clear Lennox had fought dirty. The bastard was known for slipping knives into hand-to-hand combat.

  ‘I’m sorry, Commander.’

  ‘That’s all you have to say? I want to get to the bottom of this.’

  Stefan cleared his throat. ‘It’s as Lennox says. I took a swing at him.’

  ‘Why?’ S
winton demanded.

  Silence fell.

  Gods, Swinton hated this. Hated Lennox. Nothing was ever as that bastard said. He’d done something, something awful to provoke Stefan.

  ‘You’re both suspended —’

  Lennox jerked away from the guards restraining him. ‘What —?’

  ‘Effective immediately.’

  Lennox stormed up to him, his breath hot on Swinton’s face. ‘You can’t do that —’

  ‘I can do whatever I like, Lennox.’ Swinton’s voice was steely, fury radiating from him as he stared his rival down. ‘I’m the Commander of the King’s Army. You, however – you were already on probation. You’re suspended. Now, get out of my face, before I give that black eye some much-needed company.’

  Lennox swore.

  ‘Walk it off, Lennox,’ Fi said, stepping in beside Swinton. ‘Or suspension will be the least of your concerns.’

  ‘Is that right, you Battalonian bastard?’ Lennox sneered.

  Fi’s fist was a blur as it smacked into Lennox’s face with a crack, sending him sprawling across the cobblestones.

  Cursing, Lennox scrambled to his feet, nose bleeding. He made to lunge at Fi, but thought better of it, clearly sizing up the captain. He rounded on Swinton. ‘What’s his punishment, then?’

  With a sideways glance at Fi, Swinton frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘For hitting a guard of the King’s Army!’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Swinton mused. ‘Fi?’

  ‘No idea.’

  Swinton nodded. ‘That clears that up, then. Now get out of my sight, Lennox.’

  When the crowd had dispersed, Swinton and Fi took Stefan aside.

  ‘What did he do, old friend?’ Fi asked, offering the squire a cold compress.

  Stefan winced as he moved, but simply shook his head.

  ‘Stefan, I know you,’ Swinton said. ‘You were provoked. We need to know how, and why.’

  Stefan met his gaze with apologetic eyes. ‘I understand that, Commander. But … I can’t help you.’

  Fi’s muscular arms crossed over his chest. ‘He threatened you?’

  ‘I —’

  ‘Stefan,’ Swinton warned. ‘It’s your sworn duty to —’

  ‘It wasn’t me he was threatening. It was you.’

  ‘Me?’

  Stefan nodded. ‘He had a group of his lackeys. I caught them rallying against you, plotting how they would sully your reputation and have you expelled from the King’s Army.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let that happen on my watch, Commander. Nor would most of the guards. We are loyal to you, not that brute.’

  It was worse than Swinton thought. He offered Stefan a grim smile. ‘Thank you for telling us. Fi and I will deal with this.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’

  Fi patted the young squire on the shoulder. ‘Head on home, old friend. Rest up. We’ll see what we can do about this suspension. You understand why Dimi had to make the call then and there?’

  Stefan nodded, getting to his feet. ‘I’m sorry, Commander.’

  Swinton shook his hand. ‘Don’t be. We’ll see you tomorrow.’

  It was dusk when Swinton and Fiore started their ride back to Sir Caleb’s estate. Swinton had known the situation with Lennox was less than ideal, but this … this was outright unacceptable.

  ‘What are you going to do about him?’ Fi asked, glancing Swinton’s way in the fading light.

  ‘He needs to go.’

  ‘That he does, old friend.’

  ‘When the king returns from abroad, I’ll have Lennox dismissed.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, there are more permanent ways of getting rid of someone, Dimi.’

  Swinton barked a laugh. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘You’ll never know now, eh?’ Fi grinned.

  But Swinton’s smile faltered when he recalled the venom in Lennox’s voice as he’d spat that slur at Fi.

  ‘It was a good swing,’ he allowed.

  Fi quirked a brow. ‘It was.’

  ‘You wanted to hit him.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘’Course I did. And I would have done, for what he called you —’

  ‘Don’t need you to fight my fights for me, Dimi. Besides,’ Fi added with a wink, ‘we both know my right hook’s better than yours.’

  Swinton laughed again.

  ‘Now,’ Fi said, suddenly businesslike. ‘Let’s get you back for dinner, eh?’

  Swinton and Fi burst into the formal dining room at the family estate.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Swinton blurted, taking in the crystalware glimmering in the firelight, the unfamiliar faces seated at the dining table.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Sir Caleb said, his wine glass paused before his lips. ‘Your duties come first, always. Lord Moore and his family understand that.’

  The nobleman seated to Sir Caleb’s right gave an agreeable nod in Swinton’s direction. Swinton noticed they’d seated a young woman, whom Swinton could only imagine was Lord Moore’s daughter, opposite his own empty seat.

  A servant entered with the first course.

  Swinton looked to his father. ‘Where are the Carlingtons?’

  Sir Caleb met his gaze with cold eyes. ‘We thought they’d be more comfortable dining in the southern wing.’

  The servants’ wing.

  Rage blinded Swinton. He’d had enough —

  ‘Sir Caleb,’ Fi’s melodic voice interjected. ‘Might Dimitri and I clean up before joining you? We still have the road on our clothes.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ Swinton’s mother, Lady Yuliana, waved them away. ‘Fancy making them stand there in their dusty riding gear, Caleb.’

  Swinton barely felt Fi tug his sleeve. Numb with anger, he followed his friend from the dining room and out into the hall. Fi started towards the east wing, where their chambers were. But Swinton had stopped short.

  ‘Dimi?’

  ‘I won’t be joining you for dinner, Fi.’

  ‘What?’ Even Fi didn’t like to upset Sir Caleb.

  ‘I’ll be dining in the southern wing tonight.’

  ‘Dimi, your father —’

  But for the first time in his life, Swinton didn’t care what his father thought. ‘Tell him what you like, Fi. I’ll be dining with the Carlingtons regardless.’

  Swinton waited for the onslaught of protests. Sir Caleb will be furious. Lord Moore will be offended. You’re the Commander, customs must be honoured —

  But none of those words left Fi’s mouth. Instead, Swinton found his friend smiling. Fi turned towards the east wing and walked off alone, loudly whistling a Battalonian tune.

  Swinton didn’t clean up or change before making for the southern wing. He was already late enough. As he half-ran through the manor, he realised with a flush of shame that the hallways in this section of the house were foreign to him. He didn’t know his way around these parts. When he reached the southern wing, he had to ask a shocked-looking attendant for directions to the servants’ dining room.

  ‘There is no servants’ dining room, Commander …’

  ‘What? What do you mean? Where does everyone eat, then?’

  ‘Uh … In the kitchens, Commander.’

  ‘Take me there, then, please.’

  Still bewildered, the attendant led him through the dimly lit corridors to a set of double doors. ‘Through there,’ he said, pointing.

  ‘Thank you …’ Swinton trailed off, realising he didn’t know the man’s name.

  ‘Oliver, Commander.’

  ‘Thank you, Oliver,’ Swinton said, before pushing through the doors.

  The chatter that had filled the kitchen merely seconds ago died upon Swinton’s entry. Knives and forks froze, suspended above plates.

  ‘Commander Swinton,’ James said, standing abruptly. ‘Can I get you something? Do you need assistance?’
/>
  ‘No, everything’s fine,’ he said, spotting Eliza and Emmett at the end of the table. ‘I thought … I thought I’d dine with you this evening, if it’s alright.’

  The silence was agonising, but finally, there was the scrape of a chair. Emmett waved him over. ‘Glad you made it,’ the stable master said. ‘Come, sit! Tell us about this drama at the castle today.’

  Flooded with gratitude, face flushed, Swinton went to him, taking a seat opposite Eliza.

  ‘You made it,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Wouldn’t have missed it,’ he told her.

  They ate bread, dried meat and cheeses, a far cry from the roasted lamb and goose his father’s guests were enjoying in the northern wing. But the stress of the day seemed to fall away as Swinton listened to Emmett and Eliza talk of Willowdale. He watched them keenly as they spoke of everything and nothing, the words between them completely effortless. Swinton found himself laughing, his eyes streaming as Eliza told the table story after story of stable life. He sipped his wine and took it all in.

  It was one of the best meals he’d ever had.

  It was late when he and Eliza realised they were the only ones left in the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry,’ he stammered. ‘I’ve kept you far too long.’

  ‘It’s alright, Dimitri,’ she said, smiling kindly as she stood. She stretched her arms above her head. He, too, was sore from sitting for so long.

  He walked her to the door, debating whether or not to take her hand, wondering where they now stood. She turned to him, suddenly close – much closer than she’d ever been before. The faint scent of lavender soap filled his nose.

  Panicked, he took a step back. ‘Goodnight, Eliza,’ he said.

  Disappointment flickered across her face once more. ‘Goodnight, Dimitri.’

  The soft hues of dawn were tinged with regret as Swinton readied himself for the day. He’d missed his chance. He’d lost his nerve at the worst possible moment. He was still cursing himself over his bootlaces when his bedroom door flew open with a bang.

  ‘Just what in the name of all the gods were you playing at?’ Sir Caleb’s face was a mask of rage.

  ‘Father, I —’

  ‘First, you had the nerve to insult our esteemed guests. Then – dining with the servants, Dimitri? Don’t think I don’t know what, or who, this is about. Courting a commoner – have you lost your mind?’