Defender of Hearts by Tanya Bird

Chapter 31

Lyndal managed to avoid Astin for four whole days. She planned her time with the king around the times he was off duty and even found herself ducking into rooms she did not need to enter in order to avoid him. Of course, he knew exactly where she was due to the fact that Roul and Eda were usually standing awkwardly in the corridor waiting for her to re-emerge, but he did her the favour of continuing past without saying a word.

She passed time playing chess with the queen, writing letters, reading, or outdoors trying to prevent her sister from going insane from boredom. This existence worked, right up until the night the king requested she dine with him in his private quarters.

Leaving Eda in her bedchamber, Lyndal walked the dimly lit corridor to the east wing of the castle. She was surprised to find Astin standing outside the king’s door but said nothing when his gaze drifted in her direction. It was the first time she had come face to face with him since their fight. She stopped a few paces from the door, careful not to meet his eyes. Without saying a word, he disappeared inside and returned a few moments later.

‘The king will see you now,’ he said, moving aside.

Her gaze flicked to his, and she immediately regretted it. All the feelings she had pushed down rose to the surface in a single glance. All the anger, the hurt, along with all the other ones she did not want to acknowledge.

‘Are you going in?’ Astin asked.

That was when she realised her feet had failed to move. Clearing her throat, she said over her shoulder, ‘No need to wait, Thornton. It might be a late evening. I’ll send for the night guard when we’re done.’ She saw Astin’s jaw tick in annoyance, but instead of feeling triumphant at the small win, she felt sick.

Roul bowed his head. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

Astin kept his eyes ahead, promptly pulling the door closed the second she stepped through it. She jumped at the noise.

‘I am absolutely starving,’ Borin said, waving her in. He took a seat at the small table and gestured for the servant to start filling his plate.

He always said things like that despite the fact that she was always on time.

Curtsying, she went to join him. And so began two tedious hours of Borin talking about everything from the superiority of his horses to complaints about his new boots.

‘I have a wide foot,’ he explained, ‘but it has never been an issue before.’

Lyndal listened, nodded, and chewed her food without tasting it. She praised him, encouraged him, and laughed when he attempted humour. She never criticised, never offered her opinion. She did everything Queen Fayre had told her to do. She was the perfect companion.

His ideal queen.

‘I wanted to speak with you about what will happen after the wedding.’

Lyndal perked up at that. ‘Good, because I have lots of ideas. I think it’s important the merchants see our passion to help them goes beyond providing for them.’

Borin placed his fork down and looked across the table at her. ‘I shall stop you there. Your focus will be on producing an heir. A fertile existence demands a much quieter life than the one you are currently living.’

Lyndal stared back at him, trying not to let her disappointment show. ‘I was keen to volunteer my time at the almshouse, schedule permitting, of course.’

He pushed his plate away. ‘Mother has mentioned this idea of yours to me, and I must say, I am not in favour of it.’

All the food she had eaten felt like it was wedged in her chest suddenly. ‘May I ask why?’

‘We need people to be self-sufficient, not relying on handouts. Almshouses indulge the lazy.’

‘I disagree.’

He laughed. Laughed. ‘You would. It does not matter. You can disagree all you like, so long as you listen. We must address the bigger problems we are facing.’

‘Bigger than mass starvation and death?’

‘The solution to that is to invest in our farmers.’

She tried very hard to remain composed. ‘What good will that do if the meat doesn’t reach the hungry?’

His face hardened. ‘It will, when there is adequate supply.’

She knew she should have stopped there, changed the subject, done something Queen Fayre would have approved of. Done anything else. Instead, she said, ‘There must already be adequate supply given the nature of the deals currently being made.’

‘What are you talking about?’ His tone was impatient.

‘I’m talking about forty head of cattle that were sold outside our walls.’

She saw it then, a flash of something that confirmed what she knew. He recovered quickly though, plucking his napkin off his lap and dropping it on the table. ‘I do not appreciate the accusation in your tone.’

‘Can you clarify what you mean when you speak of investing in our farmers?’

The king looked over at the servant by the wall. ‘Leave us.’

All of Lyndal’s bravery left her. She sensed a change in him when the door closed.

‘I will not discuss business with you,’ he said, leaning forwards. ‘Even when you do become my wife, you will remember your place. Do you understand?’

She nodded.

He rose, extending a hand to her. ‘Come. Let us go to my bedchamber.’

She stared at the outstretched hand, her stomach churning. ‘I don’t want to go to your bedchamber.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

Heat filled her face ‘We’re not wed. I’m not required to produce an heir yet.’

His hand fell. ‘It was not a question.’

‘It should have been.’ She rose from her chair. ‘Goodnight, Your Grace.’

‘You are not dismissed,’ he said, raising his voice.

‘I am not one of your servants.’ She took a step towards the door. ‘I wish to leave.’

He was surprisingly quick as he positioned himself between her and the exit. ‘Perhaps my mother failed to tell you that what you want is irrelevant. Now, because I am a patient man, I am going to ask you politely, once again, to join me in my bedchamber.’

She was trembling now. ‘And because I am a lady, I will politely decline. Please move out of my way so I can leave.’

He approached her so fast that she stepped back in a panic, knocking her chair backwards.

‘You will leave when I tell you to,’ Borin shouted.

The door flew open, and Astin stepped into the room, looking between them.

‘What is it?’ Borin roared.

Astin replied calmly, ‘The night guard is here to escort Lady Lyndal back to her room.’

‘Then tell him she is not ready!’

Lyndal thought she would take advantage of the opportunity and slip past the king, but he seized her by the wrist as she passed, yanking her backwards. Her feet could not backtrack fast enough, and she fell, her arm twisting awkwardly. Before she even had a chance to register the pain, her arm was freed and she was back on her feet.

‘You dare lay a hand on your king!’ Borin shouted at Astin, his voice oddly high-pitched.

Astin pulled Lyndal behind him before unhanding the king.

‘Move aside, Fletcher,’ Borin said, his face bright red. ‘I shall deal with you in a minute.’

Astin shook his head. ‘I can’t do that, Your Majesty. It’s my job to protect you and that includes preserving your reputation. To let you continue down this path would be negligent.’

The king’s eyes flashed. ‘This is a private matter, and I am telling you to step aside.’

‘And I’m telling you no.’ Astin’s words were slow and even. ‘Your father never laid a hand on your mother. It’s one of the reasons you looked up to him.’

Borin’s face twitched a few times. Looking at Lyndal, he said, ‘This conversation is not over.’ He tugged his tunic back into place. ‘Get her out of here before I do something I regret.’

Astin ushered Lyndal through the door, pulling it closed behind them. They fled down the empty corridor. Lyndal’s trembling had grown to shaking, and she could do nothing to stop it.

‘It’s the fear working its way out of your body,’ Astin said quietly. ‘It’ll stop in a few minutes.’

She was vaguely aware of him stopping to give instructions to another defender, and then they were walking again. Lyndal tried to form words but found herself choking on them.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, reading her mind. ‘Just walk.’ He kept a firm hold of her arm.

When they rounded the corner, she stopped walking and looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears, but still no words.

His eyes reflected the flame from the torch above. ‘Just give yourself a minute.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t say that.’ He smoothed her hair, then held her face. ‘Don’t say sorry.’

‘But now he’s angry at you.’

‘Shh. Don’t worry about that. I can handle him.’ He peered into her face. ‘Did he hurt you?’

She shook her head, blinked, then wiped away the fresh tears. ‘No.’

He took hold of her arm again and continued walking. ‘Let’s get you to your sister.’

‘We can’t tell her,’ Lyndal said. ‘You know what she’s like.’

Astin glanced sideways at her and exhaled. ‘I have to go back. If the warden learns I left my post—’

‘Of course. You should go.’ When they reached her door, she looked up at him. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She said it with a smile, yet tears continued to fall.

‘Stop.’

‘It’s my fault though. I said things.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you said. He shouldn’t have put his fucking hands on you like that.’

She knew he was at the end of his tether if he was using that language in front of her.

Before she could respond, her new night guard walked into sight, nodding at them both.

Astin shifted his weight and closed his eyes for a second.

‘Go,’ she said, managing a smile. ‘Please.’

He nodded, then left without another word.

She watched him until he turned the corner, then gave her night guard, whose name she could not remember, a weak smile before heading inside. She closed the door and leaned on it, sliding all the way down to the ground. Drawing up her knees, she cried silently into them. Astin had been right. She was not cut out for this life. The merchant blood was too strong in her veins, leading only to rebellion instead of necessary compliance.

What was the point of her misery if everything the queen mother had promised would not come to fruition? Borin would block her at every turn. It was clear now that he would never respect her enough to value her input. She would always be a merchant in his eyes, nothing more. He would tolerate her at best, so long as she stayed quiet and birthed a few boys who would likely grow to have blunt fringes that matched their father’s.

She remained on that floor for hours, chewing her fingernails and thinking through every possible avenue she had at that point, every possible outcome. There were so many reasons why it was too late to change her mind. Yet the feeling in her gut, the one telling her to flee, grew stronger by the second.

Picking herself up off the floor, she turned and pulled the door open. Her night guard raised one eyebrow in question.

‘I’d like to go for a walk,’ she said, aware of what a mess she must have looked like.

‘Now?’ he asked, visibly confused.

She nodded and stepped past him.

‘Your cloak, my lady?’

She was not feeling the cold at that point, so she continued walking. She knew Astin would be at the barracks by now, so she exited the castle and headed for the wall.

‘You can’t leave the castle grounds,’ her guard said, voice firm. ‘Those are my orders.’

She was halfway to the wall at that point, fighting the urge to run. But there were defenders at the gate ahead, and she knew she stood no chance of getting past them. She wanted to get to Astin, to tell him he was right, that she was sorry.

Her feet stopped and her face fell.

‘I need to get you back to your room,’ her guard said.

She pressed her palms hard against her eyes.

‘Lyndal?’

Her hands fell away at the sound of Astin’s voice. She turned, searching for him. He stood halfway between them and the castle, staring at her.

‘What is she doing out here?’ he asked the bodyguard.

‘She wanted to go for a walk.’

Lyndal moved towards Astin, her pace quickening the closer she got. She half fell, half flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his soothing scent.

He peeled her off him, holding her at arm’s length. ‘What happened?’

She blinked, hating that she could not for the life of her stop crying. ‘I… I’ve changed my mind.’

She saw the slow hardening of Astin’s face as her words sank in. ‘Shit.’ He looked at the other defender. ‘I’ll watch her for the rest of the night. You can return to the barracks.’

The night guard hesitated. ‘But the warden—’

‘I’ll deal with the warden.’

The guard looked between them, nodded, then headed for the gate.

Astin relaxed his grip when he realised he was still holding her at arm’s length. ‘Where’s your cloak?’

‘I didn’t bring one.’

He swore under his breath and turned her towards the castle. ‘Let’s go.’

Her chest felt like it might explode with all the things she wanted to say to him, with all the things she felt for him. She was undeserving of his devotion, of that she was sure. But she needed him to know he was utterly worthy of hers.

They walked in silence with space between them. They would already get in trouble if anyone saw them, so she did not want to make matters worse by clinging to him.

When they reached her door, she turned to him. ‘Come in?’

His expression was tortured. ‘That’s not a good idea.’

‘I know.’ She watched the indecision play out on his face, then slowly reached for his hand, pulling him across the forbidden threshold.

‘You changed your mind,’ he said once he was inside the room, repeating her words from earlier.

She nodded. ‘I changed my mind.’

He threaded his fingers through hers and brought the back of her hand to his mouth, kissing it. It felt like his lips had landed everywhere at once. Then his mouth was on hers, and she was pressing against him. She could not get close enough. Picking her up, he turned, pushing the door closed and pressing her back against it. She wrapped her legs around him, melting against the hard muscle beneath his uniform. His hand was between her head and the door—always the protector.

She felt hot and breathless as she tilted her hips up, seeking sensation.

‘Tell me if you want me to stop,’ he said into her mouth.

Was he insane? She responded by kissing him deeper.

‘Lyndal—’

‘Don’t,’ she breathed.

He groaned into her mouth, one hand venturing beneath her dress. ‘He’ll know.’

She gripped his face with both hands and looked into his eyes. ‘No he won’t, because he’ll never lay a hand on me.’ She could see he did not trust her, and she did not blame him.

He searched her eyes. ‘It’s going to be a mess.’

‘It’s already a mess.’ She kissed his stubbly cheek, then his other one, then his forehead, nose, chin. She kissed him until he believed her, until his mouth was on hers once more, even hungrier than before.

‘Get me out of this dress,’ she said, breaking their kiss. ‘I need your hands on me.’

He lifted her off the door and carried her to the bed. ‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’