Defender of Hearts by Tanya Bird

Chapter 19

‘Ihave 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 farming 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.

‘We haven’t trusted one another in the past,’ Astin replied. ‘Why would we start now?’

Borin tutted. ‘Come, come. Let us all be civil.’

Cooper gave Astin a hard stare before leaving with the king.

When the men were out of earshot, Astin looked to his mother. ‘Where’s Presley?’

‘She’s in the north paddock with Rose.’ She never quite met his eyes anymore.

Clearing her throat, Lyndal said, ‘Shall we take a walk and find them? It would be a shame to come all this way and not see your sisters.’

‘It’s a bit of a walk. We’ll take the horses,’ he replied.

Lyndal lifted the skirt of her dress, revealing her boots. ‘Merchant feet. I can walk for miles with a pail of water in each hand.’

He loved the way her eyes shone with pride when she spoke of her roots.

‘I could fetch her,’ his mother offered.

He gestured for Lyndal to start moving. ‘We’ll walk.’

His mother took another step towards him. ‘Astin—’

‘It’s Fletcher. I’m on duty.’

Lari nodded and looked down at the ground. ‘Did Presley tell you she’s to be married?’

‘She did.’

Lari kneaded her apron between her fingers. ‘I made some horse bread, and we have butter. Why don’t you come in for some refreshments first?’

‘I don’t think Cooper would like that.’ Then he was walking away.

Lyndal hurried to catch up to him, holding her skirts off the ground as she attempted to match his pace. Registering her struggle, he slowed.

‘Want to talk about that very awkward exchange with your mother back there?’ she asked, looking over her shoulder.

‘Nothing to talk about.’

She watched him. ‘She’s not the first woman to marry the wrong man, you know. Are you really going to make her pay for that mistake for the rest of her life?’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, so leave it alone.’

She sighed. ‘I can see she’s carrying a lot of guilt.’

‘And yet nothing changes.’

‘What would you have her do exactly?’ Lyndal said on a laugh. ‘The man is her husband. If he truly is a monster, he won’t take kindly to a change of heart.’

He met her eyes. ‘Speaking of family, what did your sisters have to say about your marriage choice?’

‘Oh, I think you can hazard a guess.’

‘Do you think showing them your lavender drawing might help?’

Her mouth fell open, eyes laughing. ‘I take offence to that, defender.’

‘As is your right, Lady Lyndal of Cardelle Manor.’

She shoved him playfully with little effect.

‘Didn’t I once hear you say you’re named after your grandmother?’ he asked.

‘So you were listening at dinner all those times I thought you were blocking out the sound of my voice. Your point being?’

The corners of his mouth lifted. ‘That makes you Lady Lyndal the second of Cardelle Manor.’

She laughed. ‘Actually, I would be Lady Lyndal the third. My grandmother’s grandmother was also named Lyndal.’

He chuckled lightly, the tension leaving his shoulders.

‘It’s really peaceful here,’ she said, looking around at the muddy fields. ‘I can almost picture the green paddocks before the rain arrived and stripped this place of its beauty.’

His eyes swept their surroundings. ‘It really was something back then.’

Lyndal was silent a moment. ‘Do you ever wonder how your life would have turned out if you’d stayed here?’

‘I would have been dragged off to the tower for murdering my stepfather, then hung on a wall.’

Lyndal winced. ‘It was that bad?’

‘It was that bad.’

A hand landed on his wrist, and he followed it all the way up to that pretty round face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know what it is to grow up without a father, but I can’t even fathom a terrible replacement.’ Her hand fell away. ‘I imagine your mother had no choice but to remarry. She had young children and could hardly be expected to run a farm this size by herself.’

His eyes went to the open gate up ahead. ‘She doesn’t need your excuses. She has enough of her own.’ He gestured for her to stop and looked around.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

He pointed ahead. ‘That’s the paddock we keep the bull in.’

‘The one with the open gate?’

He nodded and continued walking. ‘Stay close.’

She took hold of his arm. ‘Is it a charging bull by any chance?’

His eyes went to where she was gripping him. ‘Not usually, but that’s a very bright shade of blue you’re wearing.’ He smiled to himself when her grip tightened.

Astin relaxed when he spotted his sisters with the bull up ahead, his expression turning to one of amusement as he took in the sight of Presley knee deep in a bog, resting against the bull’s rump. Rose was tugging on a rope attached to the bull’s halter. She stopped when she spotted them approaching, likely wondering who he was. It had been nearly two years since he had stepped foot on the farm.

‘Now you choose to visit?’ Presley said.

Astin stopped at the edge of the bog. ‘Good to see you too.’

‘It’s all right, Rose. It’s just your silly brother.’

His youngest sister’s expression changed from wary to curious. ‘Is that your wife?’

Lyndal immediately let go of Astin’s arm. ‘Fletcher remains blissfully unwed.’ She walked over to the girl and bent down, gently squeezing her bicep. ‘Just as I suspected. Much stronger than your brother.’

Rose giggled.

‘I’m Lyndal, by the way.’ She extended a hand, and Rose took hold of it.

‘He’s stuck really good this time.’

Lyndal turned to face the exhausted bull. ‘I see that.’

‘You going to help or what?’ Presley called to Astin.

‘I’m in uniform.’

She let out an exasperated breath. ‘We couldn’t have a defender muddying up his boots, now could we? Do they still regularly sweep the wall walks so you can stroll debris-free up there?’

Astin was about to reply but stopped when he spotted Lyndal unlacing her boots. ‘What are you doing?’

She tugged one off. ‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to help.’

Presley’s eyebrows rose. ‘I like her.’

‘This is Lady Lyndal the third of Cardelle Manor,’ Astin said.

Presley flattened her palms on the bull’s rump. ‘Fancy.’

Lyndal threw the second boot at him. ‘Except I’ve never lived at Cardelle Manor.’

‘I’ve heard about you,’ Presley said, pushing. ‘You’re the merchant girl everyone’s been talking about. The only woman to capture the king’s short attention span.’

‘You’ll have to forgive my sister for speaking poorly of our king,’ Astin said.

Lyndal began unbuttoning her skirt. ‘Don’t worry. I have very selective hearing.’

‘Stop,’ Astin said. ‘If the king finds you standing in the mud with your clothes off, he won’t be pleased.’

Ignoring him, Lyndal stepped into the mud and sucked in a breath. ‘Goodness, it’s colder than I realised.’

Rose was watching Astin, waiting to see what he would do next. With a heavy sigh, he removed his boots and socks, rolled up his trousers, and followed them into the mud.

‘What do you weigh?’ Astin asked Lyndal over the top of the bull. ‘You’re probably the equivalent of two sacks of flour?’

‘That’s a very rude question to ask a lady.’

‘This bull weighs at least fifteen times that. I’m just doing the math.’

‘Ready?’ Presley asked.

Lyndal reached a hand around the bull, and Astin reluctantly took hold of it. ‘Speak up if anything doesn’t feel right. I don’t want you injured.’

‘He dislocated my shoulder once,’ Presley said.

‘By accident.’

His sister leaned closer to Lyndal. ‘Defenders are notoriously violent.’

Lyndal smiled. ‘You are so much funnier than your brother.’

Astin shook his head and looked up at Rose. ‘Ready?’

The girl nodded.

‘One, two—’

‘Wait,’ Lyndal said. ‘Are we going on three or after three?’

He squinted across the bull at her. ‘On three.’

‘And we’re pushing forwards, not up?’ Lyndal asked, shoulder pressing into the bull’s rump.

‘Correct,’ Astin said. ‘We’re not trying to lift the fifteen-hundred-pound animal out of dense mud. We want him to walk himself out.’

Lyndal took a few breaths, readying herself. ‘All right. On three.’

Astin tried not to look at his grinning sister. ‘One, two, three.’

The bull groaned as they pushed. Eventually, the exhausted animal lifted one of his front legs and took a step towards the edge.

‘Good,’ Presley said, slumping against the bull. ‘Now we just need to do that over and over until he’s out.’

Lyndal reached for Astin’s hand once more. ‘Let’s not dilly-dally, then.’

The mud was knee deep, and her chemise had soaked up the layer of water sitting on top of the mud, making the fabric cling to her thighs. Astin tried very hard not to stare across the bull at her.

‘Are you still with us, brother?’ Presley asked, suppressing a knowing smile.

Heat crawled up his neck as he leaned into the bull again. ‘One, two, three.’

This time both of the bull’s back legs moved. The next time both front legs. Another back leg. Then finally, the bull was at the edge of the bog.

‘This is it,’ Presley said. ‘Once he feels that firm ground beneath him, he’ll go, so take the rope off now, Rose, and hop out of the way.’

Lyndal wiped the back of her hand over her sweaty brow, smearing mud over her face in the process.

‘What?’ she asked when she found him watching her.

‘Nothing. Let’s go. One last effort.’ He took hold of her hand again, enjoying the sensation of her clammy skin a little too much.

That would need to stop.

Presley counted them in this time. ‘One, two, three.’

They all gave one final mighty push, and the bull staggered up the muddy slope, falling to his knees before righting himself and trotting away with a defiant bellow.

Lyndal held on to her knees as she caught her breath. ‘Thank goodness. That’s all I had left.’

He had a clear view of her now, soaked from the waist down. He could not look away, even going as far as imagining the top half of her wet.

She straightened and brought a hand to her forehead, adding more mud. The hand fell away when she saw his face. ‘What’s the matter?’

Before he could think of a sensible response, Rose said, ‘Is that the king?’

Astin’s head snapped in the direction of approaching horses.

Shit.

The three of them scampered out of the mud, snatching up clothing and boots and wrestling them on as quickly as they could.

Borin looked between them as he pulled up his horse. ‘What on earth is going on here?’ His eyes settled on Lyndal, moving over her. ‘I know merchants love their mud, but this seems a bit much.’

Lyndal dropped her gaze.

‘Our bull was stuck, Your Majesty,’ Presley said. ‘Your companion was kind enough to help.’

The king was still staring at Lyndal. ‘Well, next time she better leave it to the farmers.’

‘It’s just a bit of mud, Your Grace,’ Lyndal said as she smoothed down her crinkled skirt.

‘You forget who you ride beside,’ the king shot back.

Astin’s fingers curled into fists. ‘My fault, not hers. I let her get in.’

The king looked at him. ‘While that is noble of you, your job is to guard her, not keep her clean. Escort her back to the castle.’ He swung his horse around. ‘Cannot have the farmers mistaking her for a pig.’

They watched him ride away. Then Presley gave Lyndal a sympathetic smile as she went to collect Rose.

‘Let’s get you cleaned up,’ she said, taking her sister’s hand.

Astin and Lyndal remained there, not looking at one another.

‘You did warn me,’ she finally said.

He exhaled, nodded, then began walking. ‘Let’s go.’