Defender of Hearts by Tanya Bird

Chapter 18

Astin walked a pace behind Lyndal down the corridor, trying to calm himself. Three days she had shut him out, ignored his requests to speak with her, accepted trays of food from the maid before closing the door in his face. He had been patient, despite a persistent urge to break the door down and shake the words from her.

‘Guard her like you would a queen,’ Fayre had instructed him.

It was abundantly clear that the part Lyndal was to play was bigger than any of them could have fathomed. When she slowed her pace to walk beside him, he lengthened his stride, not ready to hear the words from her mouth.

She emitted a large sigh before running to catch up with him. ‘So, I have news.’ She lifted her skirts higher so she did not trip in her efforts to keep up with him. ‘Can you slow down please?’

‘We don’t want to keep the king waiting.’

Another sigh, her feet moving faster still. ‘Queen Fayre has it in her head that I could… that I could be queen. Isn’t that crazy?’

He was practically jogging now.

They exited the castle and headed for the steps that led down to the butts. He flew down them so fast, he was surprised she did not fall in her effort to keep up.

‘Can you stop a moment?’ she said at the bottom, out of breath.

He did not stop.

‘Astin!’

He spun around, forcing her to pull up fast. ‘It’s Fletcher. That’s how you’ll refer to me from now on. That’s how it works in this world you’re diving into.’

She swallowed hard but kept her head high. ‘I thought we were past all the hostility and silly games. I thought we were friends.’

‘Is that why you ignored me for days on end, then went and made a life-changing decision without saying a word about it?’

‘I’m telling you now.’

He crossed his arms, and she shrank back from him.

‘She’s luring you into a life of misery with a shiny crown and promises she can’t keep.’

‘She wants to help the merchants, and she knows I want the same thing.’

‘She knows you’re naive and can be easily manipulated.’

Lyndal’s eyes widened. ‘She’s grooming me, I’ll give you that, but I need grooming for this to work.’

He leaned in. ‘Can you hear yourself? She’s putting you in bed with her son, all the while whispering instructions in your ear.’

Lyndal’s face fell. ‘It’s not like that.’

‘So what’s it like, then? Tell me. Are you not about to show up at the butts and be all charming and seductive, stroke the king’s ego, then something else later?’

Her face fell, and he hated himself.

‘I’ve spent three days going over and over this in my mind, going crazy with indecision.’ Her words were breathy. ‘And for you to stand there and cheapen this situation…’

She stepped back from him and looked like she might retreat to the castle. Instead, she set her jaw and marched ahead of him in the direction of the butts. He had no choice but to follow her. It was his job to protect her, and she needed his protection now more than ever. She would be a walking target the moment the nobility got whiff of this plan.

‘You’re discharged, defender,’ Lyndal said over her shoulder.

He exhaled and caught up to her. ‘It doesn’t work like that, genius. You don’t have the authority to send me away.’

She laughed, a short sharp noise. ‘Not yet.’ She looked up at him without slowing. ‘Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I just woke up this morning liking that man?’

Rhetorical questions, so he did not reply.

‘Every time I look at him, I see a red-faced boy screaming “traitor” from atop the wall—and I want to claw his face apart.’ Her voice broke. ‘And we stood in that square, unarmed, just trying to keep each other alive for a moment longer.’

‘Stop walking,’ he said quietly.

She marched on. ‘And I’ve been handed this opportunity to do something, to help, perhaps stop anything like that ever happening again.’

Mud sucked at her boots, trapping one of her feet. She fell forwards as she tried to yank it free. He caught her with one hand and righted her, and they both fell silent. She was panting and clutching her skirts, eyes on the ground between them.

‘I have three weeks to see if this can even work,’ she finally said. ‘My family will lose their minds when they learn of this. The nobility will likely come after me with pitchforks.’ She lifted her eyes to him. ‘But I owe it to the merchants to at least try.’

Rain began to fall, fat drops landing in place of the tears she was holding back.

Astin reached out and tugged her hood up, then looked in the direction of the empty butts, wishing he could take back the things he had said to her. ‘Harlan will handle your family. I’ll handle the pitchforks.’

Laughter came out on an exhale. ‘Thank you.’ She licked rain off her lips and glanced in the direction of the castle.

‘Still want to go to the butts?’ he asked.

She brought her red hands to her mouth and blew into them. ‘I’m guessing the king will still practice if it’s raining?’

‘He will if he has an audience.’

She took hold of her wet skirts once more. ‘Then I shall be his audience.’

Thirty minutes they had been waiting in the rain for King Borin to grace them with his presence. Lyndal’s eyes kept returning to Astin, who was watching their surroundings with a serious expression. If someone did appear with a pitchfork, he looked ready.

At least he was no longer angry at her.

Her eyes went to the archery supplies that had been brought out in preparation for the king’s arrival. ‘Do you suppose I could have a turn while we wait?’

Astin looked in her direction with a surprised expression. ‘Do you even know how to shoot?’

‘I’m a Suttone. What do you think?’

The bodyguard wandered over and collected the long bow and a handful of arrows. ‘If the king shows up, we were under attack.’

‘Got it.’ She blew into her icy hands, trying to get some blood circulation happening, then took the bow from him. He handed her one of the arrows and watched her load it. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘And here come the excuses.’

She pressed her lips together to stop from smiling, then took aim at the mound at the far end of the muddy lawn. Upon release, she winced. It had made the distance but missed the target completely.

Astin chuckled behind her.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘So I’m a little out of practice.’

He stepped up and handed her another arrow. ‘A little? Did you notice the targets at the end?’

With a roll of her eyes, she loaded the bow and took aim once more.

‘Wait,’ he said, moving behind her. He hooked two fingers under her elbow, lifting. ‘Don’t let it drop.’ His other hand went around her to the riser, adjusting her grip.

She watched his callused hand move over hers, hoping he did not notice the change in her breath at him being so close. She released the arrow, this time grazing the edge of the target.

‘Better,’ he said, arms falling away.

She turned. ‘I would be much better if my hands were warm.’

‘Really?’ Taking the bow from her, he placed it on the ground and took both her hands in his. ‘Let’s test that theory, shall we?’

He rubbed her hands between his rough ones for a full minute, then brought them to his mouth. Warm breath engulfed her skin, making goosebumps break out on her arms.

‘Try now,’ he said, letting go and picking up the bow for her.

Her cheeks were hot against the rain as she met his turbulent stare. She had always read that expression as annoyance, inconvenience, impatience. But none of those things fit with the situation they found themselves in.

‘I was hoping the rain might ease,’ the king called to them.

Lyndal jumped, and Astin stepped back. Thankfully, he still had hold of the bow.

‘Goodness,’ Borin said, stopping in front of Lyndal. Two defenders flanked him. ‘You look like a drowned rat.’

Lyndal forced a smile. ‘The downside of being punctual, Your Majesty.’

His gaze went to the bow in Astin’s hands. ‘I see Fletcher has been showing you a thing or two.’ He clapped the defender on the back as he took the weapon from him. ‘It is a lot more difficult than it seems.’

Astin moved aside.

It was strange to be in someone’s company for less than a minute and feel done, but there she was, already wishing her time with the king was over. ‘I look forward to seeing what you can do.’

He clicked his fingers, like one does when gaining the attention of a dog, and held out his hand. Lyndal blinked in confusion.

‘Arrow,’ he said, his tone impatient.

Oh. He meant for her to fetch one for him. Slowly, she picked up one of the arrows lying by his feet, handed it to him, then moved aside. Borin loaded the weapon, aimed, and released, hitting the target’s edge.

‘Bow must need aligning,’ he said, clicking for another arrow.

Lyndal had never felt more like a merchant as she stepped forwards again to do his bidding.

The king reloaded the bow and took another shot, which was only slightly better than his last effort. ‘The rain,’ he explained, gesturing overhead. ‘Would you care to have a try?’

That seemed like progress—unless he drove the arrow through her neck at the last minute.

She took the bow, and he moved behind her as Astin had done. Arms went either side of her as he positioned her hands. He was not gentle—nor was he warm. The overpowering scent of perfume choked her, a contrast to Astin’s earthy scent, a scent she found herself leaning into.

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.