Defender of Hearts by Tanya Bird

Chapter 8

Lyndal and Kendra descended the grand staircase into the courtyard, hoods of their cloaks pulled up to protect them from the mist of rain. In the middle sat a fountain, water bubbling out of the top and spilling down three tiers of stone. All that was missing from the scene was a summer sun and ladies in short-sleeved dresses, laughing into brass goblets. Lyndal remained hopeful she would see something like it again in her lifetime.

‘Of course I had to let Queen Fayre win,’ Kendra whispered as they passed the fountain. ‘I cannot simply beat her at chess and expect us to be friends afterwards.’

Lyndal looked up at the smoky black sky. How she missed the stars. ‘I think Queen Fayre is the kind of woman who would prefer to win on merit, not charity.’

‘I was being polite.’

‘I think the word you’re looking for is deceitful.’

Kendra closed her mouth. ‘Do you think she likes me?’

‘What’s not to like?’

‘You literally just labelled me deceitful.’

Lyndal smiled. ‘I simply want you to be yourself. It’s a long charade if you do become queen.’

They passed the chapel and stopped at the entrance to the hall, peering inside. Guests stood in small groups in the middle of the room while others were seated at the long tables lining each wall. Trays of food sat untouched. Eggs, salted meat, roasted chicken, and colourful root vegetables. Guilt slashed through Lyndal like a knife. In the next borough, children were being put to bed with a cup of warm water, a trick to fool the stomach into thinking it had been fed.

‘I do hope there will be dancing,’ Kendra said. ‘Perhaps the king will ask me.’

Lyndal’s gaze drifted to the high table where Borin was seated, picking through a plate of food. His mother sat at his side, watching the room. The chairs around them were empty. Prince Becket had departed soon after the coronation, taking the number of royal family members in Chadora to two. It was no secret Queen Fayre wished that number to grow.

‘Oh, there is Lady Henley,’ Kendra said, smoothing down the front of her dress. ‘We should take the seats nearest her. She is one of Queen Fayre’s closest friends.’

Lyndal’s feet did not want to move suddenly, or rather wanted to move in the other direction—towards her bed. But as neither bed nor lingering in the doorway for the remainder of the evening were viable options, she sighed inwardly and followed her cousin.

Warmed by ale, Astin followed the rain-soaked path around the castle, still trying to figure out why he turned down a barmaid’s advances in place of a perimeter check. After all, if the king died on someone else’s watch, it would be no reflection on him.

As he neared the south gate, some movement farther along the wall caught his eye. His feet stilled as he peered into the dark. The guard on duty at the gate looked between him and the wall.

‘Something wrong, sir?’ the defender called to him.

Astin held a hand up to silence him, then moved deeper into the shadows. He froze when he realised what he was looking at. It was a gently swinging rope, moving as if someone had not long ago released their grip on it. His heart sped up as he looked up and drew his weapon.

‘Breach!’ he shouted, turning away and breaking into a run towards the gate.

The defender on duty drew his weapon also. ‘Breach!’ he echoed.

‘Open the gate!’ Astin roared, approaching at a run.

It opened just wide enough to let him slip through, then clapped shut behind him. He ran along the bottom of the wall, searching for any signs of a descent. When he did not find anything, he stopped, cursing as he turned in a circle. A few more defenders had emerged from the castle to join the hunt.

‘Find the warden,’ Astin shouted at one. ‘Where’s the king?’

The young defender was struck in the left side of his face with an arrow before he got a word out. A scream erupted from him. Astin jogged backwards and pressed himself against the wall, breathing hard as he searched the shadows around him.

‘Take cover!’ Astin called to the other defenders.

But his warning was too late. An arrow came from the other direction, striking another defender in the side.

‘Multiple shooters!’ Astin shouted as he took off at a sprint towards the castle. His job was to get to the king, and yet it was Lyndal’s face that flashed in his mind. Clever words would not save her from arrows.

A defender circled the fountain in the courtyard, hand resting on his weapon. He stopped when he saw Astin running towards him. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Draw your sword, defender. We’re under attack. Where’s the king?’’

‘The hall, sir.’

Astin slowed to a jog when he reached the chapel, carefully moving along the wall towards the music. If music was still playing, then the king was still alive. The thought buzzed in his mind as an arrow whistled overhead, bouncing off the stone wall. He was out of time. Rounding the corner, Astin headed for the hall.

‘Intruders!’ he called to the defender at the door.

When the defender went to draw his sword, a figure emerged from the darkness, a blade glinting in his hand.

‘Behind you!’ Astin called too late.

The defender’s throat was slashed, and he fell to his knees, clutching his throat. Astin tackled the man with the knife to the ground while driving his weapon into his stomach. He thrust it upwards before jumping to his feet.

‘Defenders to the doors!’ Astin shouted as he charged in. The music stopped, and all the guests, Lyndal and Kendra among them, turned to look at him. ‘I need everyone under the tables.’

Lyndal’s eyes went to his bloodied uniform. Then she reached for Kendra, dragging her towards the closest table.

‘All of you,’ Astin said when no one else moved.

Stanford, one of Borin’s other bodyguards, was already dragging the young king from his chair. ‘Is there a threat?’

‘You could say that.’

Borin peered around his bodyguard. ‘What sort of threat?’

‘You cannot expect Chadora’s nobility to get down on their hands and knees,’ Lady Henley said, appearing outraged by the suggestion.

Astin ignored her, stopping one of the defenders who went to pass him. ‘Cover Queen Fayre. We don’t know how many there are.’

‘What do you mean, you do not know how many there are?’ Borin asked.

Queen Fayre closed her eyes. ‘Let him do his job.’

Panic broke out as the guests realised the seriousness of the situation, trays of food and jars of wine falling to the floor as people hurried to take cover. Astin’s eyes went to Lyndal, who had reappeared to help Lady Henley.

‘Quickly now,’ Lyndal was saying, guiding her to the ground. Then, seeing there were still people out in the open, she returned for them.

While Astin admired her level head in a crisis, he was about to throw her under that table himself if she did not take cover.

The thud of an arrow hitting flesh made him turn. The defender at the door staggered backwards, and a moment later, a bow swung into view, a fresh arrow pointed right at Astin.

Raising his sword, Astin threw it at the sliver of a man pressed against the door frame. It spun through the air, destroying the bow. In two strides he reached Lyndal, all but throwing her to the ground. She sucked in a surprised breath before crawling beneath the table. The now bowless intruder drew his sword and marched into the room, jaw set and eyes ablaze. And Astin stood in the way of what he came for.

Just as Astin reached for the dagger strapped to his calf, another defender appeared behind their attacker, shooting him in the back. The man slowed, feet clumsy suddenly and eyes wide. Astin stepped up to him and kicked the weapon from his hand, sending it clattering to the floor. He cut the man’s throat to spare him a worse fate than if he were to survive.

‘Make sure no one comes through that door,’ he instructed the defender. Then, turning back to the room, he asked, ‘Is everyone all right?’

There was no reply from the guests. Even Lady Henley seemed to have momentarily lost her tongue.

‘Another merchant?’ the king asked, moving out from behind Stanford.

Astin looked down at Lyndal, who was crouched under the table holding her shaking cousin in her arms. She was completely still as she stared at the man bleeding out at his feet. ‘Looks that way.’

Lyndal flinched at the sound of his voice, then met his eyes. He saw no fear in them, only heartbreak.

Walking over to the table, Astin picked up one of the linen napkins and wiped it over the blade of his sword before sheathing it. ‘No one moves until the castle is secure.’

With that, he headed for the door.