Arthur Gendrel

  The skies had grown darker, as if glossed in shadow, and the air around him had filled with the earthly smell that always came before the rains. Streaks of lightning flashed in the clouds above, followed by the occasional rumbling of thunder. A storm was on its way. What a wonderful omen, Arthur thought.

  Around an hour had passed since Ser Andrew had left with his men into the city. Just thirty minutes ago, Arthur’s father had returned along with Ser Martin from the tourney grounds, and the both of them had been informed soon afterward of what had happened.

  They stood atop the wall huddled together now in the gatehouse: Arthur, Cormund, Olivia, Ser Martin, and Ser Xavier. With the intensity of the situation at hand, there had not been much conversation—only concentrated silence.

  As the air grew colder around them, the first raindrops began making landfall. Arthur could see the stream of water falling in front of him as it slid off the rooftop shingles. He wondered if at this very moment, his uncle and his men were trudging through the downpour, searching desperately for Aimon Mosenclaw. They hadn’t even brought their cloaks with them, as their operation had very much been rushed for the sake of time. He could only hope for their success.

  Olivia shivered next to him, rubbing away at her arms in hopes of keeping warm.

  “Do you need a cloak?” Arthur asked.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m alright.”

  Their father looked over. “Here, take mine.” Removing his own cloak, he wrapped it around Olivia, and pinned the golden brooch together. “That should warm you up.”

  Around him, the cloak had seemingly been of ordinary size. Around Olivia, however, it swallowed her whole, draping over her feet and trailing behind her. Only her head poked out from beneath.

  “Thank you, father,” she said with a smile.

  Cormund returned the gesture. “Of course.”

  Pulling the hood over her head, Olivia held the cloak together with a tight grasp. She returned her gaze out into the city, watching intently to see if anyone was coming. With her tightened lips, creased brows, and unsteady breath, Arthur could tell she was worried.

  “It’ll be alright,” he told her. “Ser Andrew will find him and bring him back safe and sound. I promise you.”

  “Aimon told me he’d come back unharmed. He swore on it. I made him promise...” Olivia sighed in frustration as she leaned against the wall. “…I shouldn’t have let him go so easily. I could have stopped this.”

  “The blame is not yours to bear, Olivia,” her father said. “His actions are of his own accord. You mustn’t dwell on it. For the time being, we must remain vigilant and focus on getting him back here. If fortune is kind, he’ll have gone entirely unnoticed by Jason Roost.”

  Her face was a grim one. “…I hope so.”

  Ser Martin sighed, scratching his beard. “Quite the ordeal to have, just a few days before the prince is to arrive.”

  “We had the misfortune of Jason Roost’s visit coinciding with his,” Cormund said. “Fortunately for us, however, the prince was delayed in his arrival. We may yet have time to quietly sweep this under the rug.”

  Ser Martin turned to him. “What do you plan to do with Aimon Mosenclaw, if we recover him?”

  “Well.” The Archduke took a moment to think. “Firstly, I’ll have a stern word with his master, Ser Andrew, before I speak with him. He ought to learn how to keep his squire out of trouble.”

  Ser Martin laughed. “Those two have always been the sort to cause trouble.”

  “Amusing as it is, they must learn how to control themselves. We cannot be tolerating such chaos in times like these. It is dangerous.”

  “What happens if Aimon is discovered by Jason Roost?” Arthur asked.

  His father looked at him, his eyes glancing toward Olivia for a moment. She didn’t seem to notice. “In case that were to happen, we would convene at once to discuss our next course of action. Such a plan would require careful consideration and strategic thinking. For the time being, however, we must wait for further news to arrive.”

  Nodding his head, Arthur wondered why his father had glanced at his sister before speaking. Was there something he hadn’t wanted her to hear? What plans did he have in mind for Aimon?

  If he were indeed noticed by Jason Roost, the allegations of him being a spy could very well take root. Jason’s father, Archduke Gerald, could easily use it as leverage to tarnish the good name of House Gendrel. Behold, the hospitality of House Gendrel! he would declare. See how they spy on you in the morning and the evening, creeping in the shadows as a hunter stalks its prey.

  Arthur’s father could equally respond in a manner that diminished such a claim, but it was likely to require a scapegoat. The only person fit enough to fulfill such a role was Aimon Mosenclaw himself. Presented as an irresponsible, disobedient squire who snuck out of the castle behind his master’s back, the boy could be framed for whatever wrongdoings they needed to blame him for.

  His stomach churned with dread. The idea was a horrible one, but Arthur knew it was certainly a possibility, perhaps even one his father was considering. Hence, why he had given Olivia that glance of his. Arthur prayed they wouldn’t have to resort to a plan that involved scapegoating her closest friend. She would have never forgiven them.

  The downpour grew worse, a torrent of rain pounding the rooftop above their heads. Lightning flashed as thunder roared in its wake.

  Olivia suddenly lurched away from the wall, rushing to one of the open embrasures in front of them. “Someone’s coming!” she shouted.

  The rest of them came forward at once to take a look. Arthur squinted his eyes to help him see through the relentless torrent of rains. Multiple blurred shapes were making their way up the hill, one taller than the rest. He could hear faint shouts from down the road. They sounded desperate.

  “Open the gates!” Arthur sprinted for the door.

  His uncle Martin caught him on the way out, pushing him back. “Wait! We need to make sure they’re who we think they are.”

  Who else could it be? Merely nodding his head, Arthur went back to the embrasures to see who had arrived.

  “Help! It’s Jason Roost! Aimon Mosenclaw is hurt!” someone cried from below. “Open the gates, hurry!”

  What? Arthur’s heart sunk. He could scarcely believe it. But as he looked down, he saw the golden-headed Roost in his waterlogged crimson doublet and his armored giant, the both of them carrying a bruised and bloodied Aimon between their shoulders. Beside them were two of Ser Andrew’s men.

  He turned aside to his sister, who had already bolted past him to the door. His uncle Martin and Ser Xavier were quick to follow her out. Only his father remained with him in the gatehouse.

  Arthur gave him a look of despair, but the Archduke remained steadfast. “We proceed with the utmost caution,” he said. Then he was gone as well.

  Making his way down to the gates, Arthur braved the torrential rain. It didn’t take long for his clothes to become soaking wet. Jason Roost and Ser Titan had carried Aimon through the doors by the time he arrived.

  His eyes shut, the young squire’s face was marred with bruises and covered in blood. Arthur presumed that he must have gotten into some sort of brawl, but alas the judgment was better left for the physicians to make.

  Olivia’s trembling hands were cupped around his cheeks, smeared red. The raindrops sent a diluted stream of crimson flowing down his face onto her fingers.

  “…Is he alive?” she asked, her voice broken. “—Tell me.”

  Jason Roost bowed his head. “…He is.”

  Her voice was shaking as she pressed her forehead against Aimon’s, her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry… I should have stopped you… It’s my fault!”

  “Take him inside,” Cormund commanded. “Now. Get him to the physicians.”

  Ser Titan lifted Aimon’s body at once into his arms and ran with great speed into the castle. Jason Roost and Ser Martin followed him closely.

  Turning to Arthur, Cormund’s voice fell to a whisper. “Help your sister inside. I’ll speak to the guards about what they saw.”

  As his father stepped away, Arthur immediately went to his sister. Olivia had fallen to her knees. Her hair and cloak drenched by the rain, she had curled up into a ball, her body quivering.

  Arthur could hear her muffled sobs. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he knelt beside her, gently patting.

  “…It’s my fault,” she muttered. “I couldn’t stop him, and now he’s hurt.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Arthur said, his voice quiet and soothing. “Everything’s going to be alright. He’s hurt, but he’s alive. Our physicians are going to take good care of him.”

  Choked with tears, Olivia whimpered as she pressed her head against his shoulder. He gave her a gentle hug. “It’s alright. Aimon is going to be okay.”

  “We best get you inside, my lord and lady,” Ser Xavier said. “The storm’s getting worse.”

  Arthur glanced at him and turned to look up into the sky. The wind was quickly growing in ferocity, howling as it blew. Some of the banners hoisted along the wall were torn off of their poles and scattered in the breeze.

  “Come on, Olivia, we must get inside, where it’s dry.” Pulling his sister’s hood back over her head, he helped her onto her feet. “You must rest, with peace and quiet.”

  She wiped the blood and tears from her face with their father’s cloak. She sniffled. “How can I?”

  Arthur held her close as they made their way back to the keep. “He’s alive, that’s what matters,” he said. “The physicians will take care of his wounds, and he’ll soon be awake again. You must have faith, and stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault, I promise.”

  “…He promised me.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry he got hurt. But everything’s going to be alright. I know it. We’re going to get through this together.”

  Olivia nodded her head, still sniffling. When they got back inside the castle, their mother ran to them at once. “Olivia, Arthur!” she shouted, clearly winded. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, mother—”

  Syrena pulled them in for a hug. Her arms wrapped around their shoulders; she squeezed tightly. “I’m sorry for what happened to Aimon. But I’m sure he’s going to be okay. He’s a strong man, he’ll be alright.” She stepped back, her dress partially soaked with water. “Now, let’s get the both of you dried up and warm.”

  Their mother escorted them back to their chambers. Once Arthur was left alone in his room, he began taking off his wet clothes to dry himself off with a towel. When he was finished, he changed into a pair of dark green pants and a doublet.

  A puddle had formed on the floor below him. After soaking the water up with his towel, Arthur disposed of it and left to seek out Jason Roost.

  He thought about what might have happened as he walked. Had a fight broken out between the two parties? Had Jason Roost been alarmed by Aimon’s presence and responded with force? If indeed he had done so, what had been the point in bringing him back? It was all so mysterious.

  Without evidence, however, such scenarios were little more than conjecture. To discover the truth, they would have to dig deeply and quickly. Time was of the essence, and Jason Roost the priority. If he suspected Aimon Mosenclaw of espionage, he was likely to tell his father, and not long afterwards House Gendrel’s reputation would become marred with scandal.

  Arthur found the golden-headed lord standing outside of Aimon’s chambers with Ser Titan by his side, his clothes drenched, his face and hands bloodied. He approached with caution.

  Jason Roost spotted him in the corner of his eye. “Lord Gendrel,” he greeted.

  “Lord Roost.” Arthur gave him a courteous nod, trying his best to remain calm and collected. Although Jason’s giant knight was an intimidating figure, the presence of several nearby guards alleviated his fears of a violent confrontation. “I’m glad to see you’re alive and well.”

  “As am I,” Jason answered, visibly relieved. “How is your sister faring?”

  “She’s taken it harshly… but she’ll be alright.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad to hear of it.” Jason Roost nodded. “Now, I… presume you must be wondering what happened.”

  “Yes…” Arthur was a little surprised, but he went along with it. “I was hoping you would tell me.”

  Jason gave a sigh. “Then I’ll start from the very beginning.”

  Olivia Gendrel

  Olivia sat beside the bedridden Aimon; his hand grasped within hers.

  A very long time had passed since her arrival. Hours, perhaps, or even days. She wasn’t sure anymore. She had lost track of time. The storm had come and gone, as did the stars and moon, and now the sun was rising once again.

  Olivia stared blankly at his bandaged face, gleaming in the yellow sunlight, cleansed of blood, yet bruised and swollen. His eyes shut; his chest rose gently with each breath that he took. The physicians had patched him up as best they could, but had informed them that the boy had fallen into a deep sleep from an injury to the head. Would he ever awake? Only Erodus could know.

  The tears came again. Olivia made no effort to fight them. What point was there? She had already been crying ever since Jason Roost and Ser Titan had first carried Aimon through the gates. He had been unrecognizable. Covered in his own blood and bruises, his marred face had been a horrific sight for her to bear.

  Hearing that Aimon was alive had been a great relief for her, but the sorrow and guilt still remained to haunt her.

  It’s your fault, a voice told her. You could have stopped him from going, but you were too afraid. Now look what has become of him. All because of you.

  She rested her head against Aimon’s bed, hoping the voice would go away. Whether or not it was her own, or someone else’s, she didn’t want to hear it anymore. But it persisted.

  It’s your fault, it continued, the sound of it emulating her own. Her temples began aching with wretched pain. You know it, don’t you? Like it or not, the truth is undeniable.

  Olivia rose up in her chair and made the sign. Shutting her eyes, she pressed over her forehead and lips with her thumb, and began reciting a prayer in the ancient tongue. Her voice no louder than a whisper, she decried the evil that tormented her and invoked the graces and protection of the Creator.

  When the prayer was finished, she made the sign once more and intoned “Páreda Erodus.” Thanks be to God.

  She took a deep breath before opening her eyes again. Her spirits lifted; she allowed herself a moment of respite from her sorrows. The voice was gone.

  A knock suddenly came from the door. She turned around to see, hastily wiping her eyes clean with her sleeves. “Who is it?”

  “…It’s Anna,” a voice replied. “Is that you in there, Olivia?”

  “Yes—” she stuttered. “Yes, it is. Come in. Be warned, your big sister might be in tears.”

  Anna opened the door and came inside, shutting it behind her. “Nothing wrong with that,” she said with a light smile.

  “Do you need a chair? Here, take mine.” Olivia stood up.

  “No, no, no,” Anna said, pushing her back down. “No need for that. You should stay seated.”

  Complying, she remained seated. “Did you need something?”

  “I wanted to check on how you were doing.” Anna leaned her back against the wall by the doorway. “You’ve been gone for a while. Nobody’s seen you around the castle.”

  “…How long have I been gone for?”

  “A day, perhaps. I was hoping you’d show up for breakfast this morning. You need to eat, Olivia.”

  Olivia’s lips tightened as she hung her head. “…I’ll be fine.”

  Her stomach growled.

  Anna’s brow rose. “Your stomach appears to say otherwise.”

  Olivia afforded a light smile. “…I suppose it does.”

  “Please, Olivia.” She took Olivia’s hands into her own. “You’ve got to eat. I’ll bring a plate up here if I have to. Mother, and Father, and everyone else—even Madam Ava—are all terribly worried for you. They think you’re starving yourself on purpose.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Even Madam Ava?” Olivia gently laughed to herself. “That’s touching.”

  “Yes, it is.” Anna smiled. “Now, can you promise me you’re coming to breakfast? Please?”

  Olivia hesitated, her thoughts drifting back to when Aimon had promised her to come back unharmed. It was a promise that had ultimately been left unfulfilled. She held no blame for Aimon by any means, but if promises were so fragile, what was the purpose? What good were they?

  Her sister frowned at her. “…Is something wrong?”

  “No, it’s just…” Olivia sighed deeply, unsure of whether or not to tell her. “I have… a bit of a problem with promises, now,” she said. A weak smile formed across her lips.

  Anna’s expression was one of confusion. “Then… just give me your word that you’ll come to breakfast and eat. And not starve yourself.”

  “That’s the same thing.”

  Her sister knelt before her and looked her in the eye. “Are you coming to breakfast, or are you not?”

  After a moment of silence, Olivia gave her a reassuring smile. “Yes. I’ll be there,” she said. “Now go on, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

  A look of relief swept over Anna’s face. She stood up to embrace Olivia. “I’ll always be worried.”

  Olivia laughed. “Of course you’ll be.”

  “Always.” Rising onto her feet, Anna went by the door. She turned to look at Olivia. “If you need anything, whether it’s someone to rant to, talk to about boys, or even just for a hug, just know I’ll always be open to it.”

  “I know. Thank you, Anna.”

  Anna gave her a warm smile. “Don’t mention it. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  As her sister left, Olivia heard her brother’s voice from the hall. He stopped just by the doorway.

  “Olivia?” he asked quietly. “May I come in?”

  She glanced back at him. “Yes, of course. Would you like a seat?”

  “Oh, no. I’m alright.” Stepping inside, he leaned back against the wall. Olivia found it a little amusing how he was in the same exact position where Anna had been.

  “How are you doing?” he asked. “Everyone’s been worried about you.”

  “I’m doing better. I just… wanted some time alone, yesterday. I’m sorry if I hurt anyone.”

  “No, it’s alright.” Arthur gave her a reassuring smile. “We understand.”

  “Did you … tell Anna about what happened? At least, the truth of it?”

  “I spoke to her about it with Father yesterday. We made no mention of Aimon’s intentions to spy on Jason Roost.” Arthur crossed his arms. “Did she ask you about it?”

  Olivia shook her head. “No. She asked how I was doing, and talked me into not skipping breakfast, is all.”

  “You weren’t at supper yesterday. You must be hungry.” He began reaching into his pockets. “I brought an apple and a loaf of bread from the kitchens. It’s not much, but it should keep you going until breakfast. Carla was kind enough to give them to me.”

  “Thank you.” Olivia smiled as she took them from his hands. “And my thanks to Carla, as well. She’s such a sweet girl.” She bit into the loaf, and then the apple. Delicious. Eating once more felt like a kind of healing.

  Arthur half-chortled, returning a smile. “I suppose she is.”

  As much as she wished to continue speaking about better, more innocent subjects, there was still the crisis at hand to be dealt with. Although her grief had held her back before, now she was determined to act. They couldn't afford to waste time.

  Olivia sighed, straightening her back. “…Is there a plan? Did you discuss anything with Father or our uncles?”

  His expression darkened. “We met in secret last night, not long after dinner was over. We spoke about the conversation I had with Jason Roost, and have come up with a plan going forward.”

  “You spoke with Jason Roost? When?”

  “Yesterday, after Mother brought us back to our rooms,” Arthur replied. “I found him standing just outside of here, in the hallway. I wanted to know what his side of the story was, and so I asked him about it.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He started from the very beginning. After he left the castle grounds, he went to visit an inn called Sorefoot’s Rest, having heard of its excellent brewery.”

  “So, he went to their tavern?” Olivia pondered. “It’s just like you predicted.”

  “Yes, it is.” He nodded. “And they stayed there for a while, until a fight suddenly broke out. A bunch of drunkards, apparently, had begun throwing punches at one another, and so things had escalated from there.”

  “Aimon must have gotten caught up in it, somehow.”

  “That’s what Jason Roost claimed,” Arthur said. “Aimon had been wearing a cloak that concealed his face, and it was only when he was felled and his hood taken off that Jason Roost had recognized him.”

  Olivia’s hands tightened against the seat of her chair. “And that’s when Jason Roost intervened with his knight?”

  Arthur nodded his head. “Yes. They stormed into the fight and beat those drunkards bloody. By then, some of Uncle Arthur’s men had arrived in the tavern just in time to witness it all happen. After the fighting was over, they noticed Aimon was badly injured, and so they carried him as quickly as they could back to the castle.”

  “…Do you think he knows why Aimon was there in the first place?”

  “He made no mention of it at all. Perhaps he does, perhaps he doesn’t. I couldn’t be sure at the time. As much as we know, however, he’s sent no word back to his father. Neither he nor his knight have left the castle since, and we’ve yet to receive any sightings of skyfarers departing that weren’t our own.”

  “That’s good.” She sighed. “But we remain yet in the dark. We don’t know if he’s telling the truth.”

  “The plan is to lie low and proceed normally until Aimon awakes. We are not to take action against Jason Roost, instead we will keep a watchful eye on what he does. Father has posted guards all around the castle. Hopefully, and I pray that this is true, Aimon’s memories have gone unaffected by his injuries, and he’ll be able to tell us his side of the story upon his return.”

  “I hope so, too. We’re counting on it.” Olivia turned back to Aimon, still lying unconscious in bed. So much had happened in the past day alone. Nothing would be the same.

  She took ahold of his hand, gently squeezing it. “I wonder if he’s dreaming.”

  “Even the physicians are unsure, but they say it is a possibility, as a deep sleep is not much different from an ordinary one.”

  “I hope they’re good dreams. He deserves as much.”

  Her brother gave a warm smile. “I’m sure they are.”

  The both of them turned to the door as someone knocked. “Who is it?” Olivia asked, rising from her chair.

  Ser Rufford Cosway’s voice came from the other side. “My lady, breakfast is prepared. Your mother asks you to join the rest of your family and Lord Jason Roost.”

  She looked at Arthur. “Jason Roost is there?” she whispered. He was the last person she wanted to see, much less speak and break her fast with.

  “We’ll have to bear with it for now.” Arthur gently patted her shoulder before leaving.

  Left alone, Olivia gave one last look toward Aimon. “I’ll see you later… Get well soon.”

  Wiping her eyes one last time, she left the room to make her way to the dining hall.

  Arthur Gendrel

  Their mother sprang up as soon as Olivia had entered the hall. Rushing to her, Syrena embraced her warmly. “I’m so glad to see you, Olivia. How are you?”

  “I’m doing better, Mother.” She smiled.

  “Come, take a seat. We’re just about to eat.”

  “It’s good to see you, my lady,” Jason Roost said. “I am most pleased to see you are in good health.”

  Olivia gave him a nod, her smile a bit smaller this time. “Thank you, my lord.”

  She went across the table from where Arthur and Jason Roost were and seated herself between their sister and their mother. Their lord father sat at the head of table.

  Anna was squirming anxiously in her chair as the Archduke observed them all in silence, her eyes staring longingly at a meat pie. Then, Cormund smiled. “Let us pray.”

  Everyone became silent and still. Bowing their heads, they made the sign before praying. Cormund took the lead.

  “Erodus on high,” he said. “We ask you to bless this meal before us, so that it may nourish us and renew our strength for the day that lies ahead. We give you our thanks, for having created this world, and the sources from which we have gathered our food. We also pray for the recovery of Aimon Mosenclaw, so that he may soon awaken, and return to the living. We ask this in your name, our Lord, our Creator, and our Provider. Páreda Erodus.”

  “Páreda Erodus,” they all followed.

  Arthur indulged himself with a cup of wine and a slice of meat pie. “My complements to the cooks, Mother.”

  Syrena smiled. “I shall pass it along.”

  “What news is there of the Prince?” Ser Andrew cut into his slab of roasted ham.

  “He is to arrive on the morrow, sometime in the afternoon,” Cormund answered. He took a drink from his goblet. “There were some preparations made yesterday, but today they will be finalized.”

  “The crowd is sure to be huge,” Ser Martin said. “Word must have traveled swiftly through the city like wild fire.”

  “We will take any and all defensive measures necessary. Most of the guard will be deployed to ensure no incidents occur. We will not have a repeat of the attack in Cosway.”

  Arthur still remembered that night well. “How many escorts does the Prince have?”

  “A hundred or so, including two knights of the Imperial Guard,” his father replied. “Ser Dorristan will be among them.”

  Arthur’s brows perked up. The rest of the table muttered amongst themselves. “Ser Dorristan Kelsaphon? The Prince will be well-defended.”

  His father gave a smile. “Yes. And it’ll be good to see an old friend again.”

  “We have not seen him since the last Trident,” Ser Martin said.

  “Five long years.” Cormund sighed. “There will be much to catch up on.”

  Syrena looked toward one of the servant girls. “Carla, dear, could you bring more bread to the table?”

  “Yes, my lady.” The girl fetched a basket of loaves and brought it over. Arthur reached out to take it from her. As he grabbed the basket, his hand accidentally brushed against hers.

  Oh, no, he thought. Then they locked eyes.

  “Ha… Apologies, my lord.” She dipped her head quickly, her smile flickering.

  Arthur was stiff as a statue. Everyone must have seen it. “…T-thank you,” he muttered. Turning back to the table, he gingerly handed the basket off to his mother.

  “Something the matter with your face, Arthur?” Olivia asked, a smile wide across her lips.

  He felt his cheek. It was getting warmer. “…No,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

  His father and uncles stifled their laughter, while his mother and sisters cast him amused glances. Jason Roost merely smiled.

  Ser Andrew leaned over to him from the left. “It’s just a girl, you know. Not a dragon.”

  A common girl, he wanted to say. But regardless of status, any girl was scary. He had little experience when it came to courting.

  Cormund cleared his throat, rising from his chair. “Well, there are many a task to complete today. Tourney grounds to prepare, princes to greet on the morrow.” He gave his wife a peck on the cheek as he made his way to the door.

  “Andrew, will you come with me?”

  Ser Andrew stood up at once, wiping his mouth clean with a napkin. “Of course, brother.”

  “Splendid.” The Archduke turned around to face the rest of them. “I’ll be off to make preparations, now. I’m afraid I won’t be seeing you until supper.”

  “Safe travels, father,” Olivia said.

  “Safe travels, Your Excellency,” Jason Roost followed.

  Cormund smiled. “Thank you. Farewell, now!”

  They all waved goodbye to him and Ser Andrew. The rest of breakfast afterward proved to be a rather quiet affair. When it was all done and over with, and after he had helped clean the table, Arthur left to meet with his uncle Martin and Ser Rufford Cosway in the training yard.

  By the time they had completed several spars, Arthur found himself exhausted. He had lost more than he had won against the both of them.

  “You’ve gotten better,” Ser Rufford commented. He sat beside him on a bench.

  “It’ll take more than that, though,” Arthur replied, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel.

  The knight nodded. “As long as you keep up with your training.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “That’s good.” Ser Rufford turned to face Arthur’s uncle. “Ser Martin, may I ask what you know of the prince? I'm awfully curious.”

  “Prince Anthranor?” He leaned against a nearby wall. “I don’t know him particularly well, but there are tales that come out of the capital. He’s said to be meek compared to his older brother, Daelanor.”

  “Some might say weak,” Arthur chimed in.

  “Indeed.” Ser Martin sighed. “But, I don’t believe it’s a fair assessment.”

  “He’s going to fight in the Trident as well, is he not?” Ser Rufford fidgeted with a pebble in his fingers. “Alongside his brother.”

  “He is.” Ser Martin nodded his head. “I was surprised to have heard the news.”

  “As am I.” The Cosway knight gave a curious glance toward Arthur. “My lord, perhaps you ought to challenge him to a friendly duel. You may end up facing him in the Trident, after all. It’d be wise to get to know your opponent.”

  “You’re right. Perhaps I shall.”

  “Just try not to hurt him too badly.” Ser Rufford chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to make his father angry at us.”

  “I wouldn’t want to harm him regardless,” Arthur said. “But I won’t underestimate him.”

  “Smart.” His uncle nodded in approval. “To better prepare you, we should get back to training as soon as we can. Are you ready?”

  “Ready, uncle.”

  Olivia Gendrel

  “I’m surprised you haven’t run off with Jason Roost,” she told her sister. They had just emerged from a lesson in the ancient tongue with Madam Ava.

  Anna merely smiled. “I would have, but I wanted to spend some time with you.”

  “How sweet of you.”

  Entering the garden, they settled themselves below the Founder’s Tree. Olivia took to reading her book.

  “What’s that about?” Anna crawled over her lap to see.

  “It’s called A Tale of Two Queens,” Olivia answered. “It’s based on actual history, but I think it reads more like fiction.”

  “A historical fiction, then?”

  “Yes, exactly.” She nodded. “It’s about two sisters; Alexia and Cyra, the twin daughters of King Galeon the Bold. Their story started off happy, but tragedy struck when Queen Marsa died in childbirth along with her son, the infant Califf.”

  Anna’s eyes widened. “What happened afterward?”

  “That’s what I’m just beginning to read about. I haven’t gotten far yet.”

  Her sister shuffled away to think. “If the king lacks a male heir, then that means… one of his daughters will have to inherit the throne. Is that right?”

  “If he doesn’t remarry, yes.”

  “Well, if he’s too heartbroken to marry again, then…”

  “Hush!” Olivia covered her sister’s mouth. “No more theories. Just let me read.”

  Anna pulled back, shooting her a glare as she pouted. “Fine, then.”

  Olivia read on in silence until her sister began tugging excitedly at her arm. “What? What is it?”

  “Look,” Anna whispered. She pointed to where Jason Roost had entered the garden.

  Her heart quickened. Not with excitement, but with wariness. She couldn’t forget Aimon lying wounded and unconscious, nor could she shake the suspicion that Jason Roost had somehow been involved.

  Closing her book, Olivia sighed to herself as she stood. “I hope he’s here for you, and not me.”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Anna rose alongside her to greet him.

  Jason Roost bowed before them as he drew near. “My ladies. A fine afternoon, is it not?”

  Olivia forced herself to smile, ensuring her voice was as courteous as possible. “It is, Lord Jason. May I ask what brings you here?”

  “I had hoped to speak with you in private, my lady.”

  Her eyes narrowed just slightly. Exchanging glances with her sister, Olivia nodded to him. “Very well.”

  Anna gave a curtsy as she left. “Good day to you, Lord Jason.”

  “And you as well, my lady.” He turned back to Olivia, his face solemn. “I… wanted to offer you my condolences in person. I understand Aimon Mosenclaw was a dear friend of yours. How have you been doing?”

  It pained her to be reminded of what had happened. How hurt he was. How he couldn’t be with her now.

  “Thank you, Lord Jason. It’s… been rough, but I’ve gotten better.” She smiled in hopes of hiding her pain from him. "You have my gratitude for having saved his life."

  “You're most welcome, my lady.” His eyes darted to the book in her hands. “May I ask what you’re reading?”

  “A Tale of Two Queens.” She showed him its well-decorated cover. The title was embroidered in gold. “It’s my first time reading it.”

  Jason Roost smiled. “I’ve read it once or twice back home. I dare say it’s one of Chavelion’s finest works.”

  “I suppose I’ll find out if that’s true or not. Have you read much of Chavelion?”

  “Of course,” Jason Roost replied. “His works are well-known across Brunzhal.”

  “I take it that he must be your favorite, then.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “But, I tend to prefer the romances of Toby Sharp.”

  “Romance?” Olivia’s brows rose in genuine surprise. “I never… took you for the sort.”

  He gave a chuckle. “Most never do. You’re not the first to be shocked. Are you an enjoyer of Toby Sharp? Or romances?”

  “I do enjoy romances, although I must say I’ve only read one of his works.” She could scarcely remember the name of it.

  “I brought a few books of my own, if you’d like to give them a read. There’s Thornish Love and Gift of an Eveningflower.”

  “Thornish Love was the one I read,” she told him. “Perhaps I’ll give the other one you have a try after I finish A Tale of Two Queens.”

  He smiled, evidently pleased. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it more than Thornish Love. Tragic ending, that one.”

  “Yes… It was.” She gave a courteous laugh. “I cried, and my sister wouldn’t stop teasing me about it for weeks.”

  Jason chuckled. “Siblings can be the bane of our existence at times.”

  “I don’t disagree. You have siblings of your own, do you not?”

  He nodded. “I have a younger sister and a baby brother.”

  “A baby brother?” Olivia smiled. “How adorable. May I ask what his name is?”

  “Karell. He just turned seven yesterday. I would have been there to celebrate with him, but… alas, duty called.”

  “A shame you couldn’t be there. Did you at least get him a gift?”

  “Of course, I did!” Jason Roost wore a look of disbelief. “What kind of brother would I be if I hadn’t?”

  She laughed to herself, and for a moment, her doubts were almost forgotten. Almost. “What did you get him?”

  “I had arranged for it to be made before I left for Cosway,” he said. “He always says he wants to be a knight like his uncles, so I knew exactly what to give him. It was a small wooden sword. I even had his name carved in ancient runes on the blade.”

  “He must have been very excited when he saw what his gift was.”

  Jason chuckled. “I can only hope, after all the trouble I went through in getting it for him.”

  “You’ve been away from home for quite a while now, haven’t you? Do you miss your family?”

  He averted his gaze to the ground, nodding. “Yes. I do, at times.”

  “Do you often write to them?”

  Jason Roost shook his head. “Not as of late. Recently things have been rather… hectic, so I haven’t gotten a good chance to do so.”

  “Ah, pity.” She smiled. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get your chance, soon enough. I’m sure they’re worried about how you’re doing, so far away from home.”

  He laughed. “My mother is always worried, regardless of whether or not I’m home. Always nagging…”

  “Mine, as well,” Olivia said. “It’s gotten to the point where she never lets us leave the castle on our own.”

  “I think yours might be worse than mine.”

  Olivia laughed. She had to give it to him. “I think so, too.”

  She gave a sigh. “…I hate being holed up in this castle all day. As grand as it is, it’s… not quite how I want to spend the rest of my days. I don’t want to be a prisoner; I want to go out and see the world for what it is.”

  “That is a respectable wish to have.” He stepped a little closer to her. “Perhaps, we could… go out and explore the city together, sometime? Your mother may be more willing to let you leave, and I could use a proper tour of Hildan.”

  Olivia eyed him cautiously, but her attention had been hooked. If this was her chance to get closer to him, it might also be her chance to find out the truth of what had happened.

  “Of course!” she answered with a smile. “Though, I would have to have a word with her, first. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  Jason Roost paused for a moment, seemingly stunned. Then he smiled back at her. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”