The King’s Assassin

M.M. Brownlow
Smashwords Edition


Copyright 2010 M.M. Brownlow


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Prologue

Eryk came striding out of the castle, pushing his thick leather hawking gloves into his belt.  Servants and courtiers scrambled out of his way as he descended the broad stone steps that led into the courtyard, especially when a look of irritation crossed his handsome face.
“Where’s my horse?” he demanded, glaring in the direction of the grooms.  
One man struggled through the crowd, leading a black stallion.  “He’s right here, your Highness.”
Eryk grabbed the reins from the groom’s outstretched hand and practically threw himself into the saddle.  His abrupt movement caused the horse to dance a little, and the prince reined him in sharply, taking his anger out on his mount.  He was irate and distracted, thinking about the mess he’d left behind him.  If only his father would realize he wasn’t ready to “settle down” and choose a bride yet.  He couldn't stand the thought of having a clingy, needy female following him around everywhere, curbing his freedom and leeching his will to live.  It wasn’t like all the young men were heading off to certain doom, needing heirs waiting in the wings in case some of them didn't return home.
Branden, braving Eryk’s mood, guided his horse closer and leaned over in his saddle.
“So what’s wrong this time?” he asked.
“The same as always,” Eryk replied.  “Father and I were arguing again.”
Branden laughed.  “So that explains the quick exit, even if today is a perfect day.  I would have expected you outside eventually anyway.”  
Branden was the only son of Lord Collin, the king’s chief advisor, and he’d been Eryk’s good friend for as long as either of them could remember.  He was the opposite of Eryk in every way – blond hair compared to his friend’s black, slightly shorter than average where Eryk was taller than most.  He was grateful for being the opposite in this particular situation too, thankful that his father wasn’t as anxious to see him married.  
He could understand Eryk’s lack of interest in choosing the woman he would be with for the rest of his life.  Eryk was very handsome, and quite popular with the ladies around the court – nobly born and not.  Branden knew that he wouldn’t want to have to choose just one lovely lady.  Granted, there was a certain amount of leeway giving to the men in the royal family, but nobody wanted bastard-born children running around.
Branden knew that Collin was hoping that Eryk would choose Alexius, Branden’s sister, as his bride when he inevitably gave in to the king’s demands.  Branden smiled to himself, picturing Eryk as his brother-in-law, the three of them a tight-knit little group.  It would be perfect.
“When’s the Ball?” Branden asked.
“Two weeks.”  Eryk scowled, and then shook his head, as if to clear away bad thoughts.  “Well, I’m still free for the time being.  Father’s trapped in court for the next few hours, so we've suspended the whole mess for the time being.  Let’s get out of here.”  
With no more warning than that, Eryk squeezed his knees into his horse’s sides and moved into a quick trot.  He had no problems leaving the rest of his entourage to catch up or follow along behind more slowly, as they wished.  Branden hurried to keep up with Eryk, followed closely by their escort of red and gray uniformed guardsmen.  
Part of Eryk knew that his behavior was irresponsible and dangerous, and that he should wait for his guards.  Reckless was the word his father had been throwing around earlier.  Eryk knew news of this would make his father angry, and that was just fine, as far as he was concerned.  Right now, he wanted nothing more than to escape from the arguments and the responsibilities, and if his actions angered his father in the process, so much the better.
Once out of the city, Eryk kneed his horse into a smooth canter, and he and Branden soon came upon their destination.  Eryk slowed to avoid startling their prey as the forest they’d been riding through ended abruptly, the trail opening into a lovely meadow.  It didn't take long for the guards, the huntsmen with the birds, and the beaters to arrive, along with another few members of the court who were tagging along, but it was long enough for Eryk’s temper to cool a little more.  Branden was a comforting presence too, which helped to settle him down.  He was determined that they enjoy this impromptu hunt.
Eryk usually preferred the more active hunts – deer and boar – but he hadn't had time to get that sort of hunt set up so hawking was going to have to do.  It was still thrilling to see your bird bring down its prey, and it was definitely nice not to have the dogs along today.  They did tend to be noisy, and he was enjoying the quiet.  Eryk turned to look for his bird, eager to get started.  
Today, the huntsmen had brought a red-tailed hawk for him and a peregrine falcon for Branden.  The courtiers who had accompanied them were only here to observe, and perhaps gain some inside court gossip.  Gossip was better than gold if you were the first to pass it along, and the heir to the throne was often a source of interesting stories, much to the king’s chagrin.  Eryk turned away from the group, letting them fade into the background, unimportant and forgotten.  His eyes turned instead toward the field, and he and Branden each held out their arms for their birds, ignoring the courtiers jockeying for position behind them.
The beaters had taken their places and started moving forward slowly though the long grass.  Eryk and Branden unhooded their birds and loosened the jesses, being careful to avoid the sharp talons and beaks.  
Suddenly, a bird shot up out of the grass.  Branden launched his falcon into the air, with Eryk’s hawk just a fraction of a second behind it.  Both birds struggled for altitude, needing to get up above their prey for maximum effect when they attacked.  Eryk was really hoping that his hawk could get a lead, knowing that the falcon’s slimmer, sleeker profile would help it make a faster decent against the pheasant that was struggling to escape the predators.  
As both birds of prey reached heights they seemed to think were appropriate for the attack, Eryk’s horse suddenly danced sideways as one of the courtier’s mounts jostled it.  The prince jerked on his stallion’s reins, his blue eyes never leaving the birds as they wheeled in the air to angle for their descents.  
The falcon arrowed down toward its prey, but the hawk veered away from the pheasant and dove straight for Eryk’s head, talons outstretched.



Chapter 1

The sunlight streamed in through the stained glass windows lining the upper right-hand wall, turning the dust motes a kaleidoscope of colors.  Sitting in the overly warm room, Tarren wondered again why everyone seemed to think that throne rooms needed stained glass.  If only they had the ability to open the windows to the early summer morning outside…  Eryk was outside enjoying the sun and the flower-scented breeze, enjoying the hunt, while he was stuck here, bored and sweating in his heavy robes.
Courtiers lined the walls to the left and right, looking like bright flowers brought in from the gardens outside.  The ladies certainly wore a wide enough variety of scents to be mistaken for a flower garden, he thought.  The gowns and fin-ery looked stunning against the dark wood of the paneled walls, but the nobility of the realm were just as warm as Tarren was, fanning themselves with whatever they had available.  A few of the frailer ladies looked ready to faint, which would certainly liven up this session of court.
Tarren sat on the throne at the end of the long hall, an imposing figure facing the row of petitioners, most of whom had already presented their cases to him.  To his left sat his chief advisor, Lord Collin, and the court secretary.  All three of them were older men, with dark hair now graying and muscle turning to fat from lack of exercise.  Tarren and Collin had been friends for a long time, had grown up together in fact, and over the years they had substituted sparring and hunting for eating rich foods and listening to people complain.  Tarren certainly looked older than he should for his fifty years.  To the right of the throne stood a serving man, holding a tray with cool water and glasses for the men on the dais.      
Just to the right and slightly farther back than Tarren’s throne, a smaller seat sat empty.  Sometimes it seemed to Tarren that he could catch a glimpse of a young, dark haired woman out of the corner of his eye, even now.  She was always smiling at him when he saw her there, happy to be near him.  He sighed quietly, missing his wife as he always did, and his thoughts turned once again to the argument he’d had with Eryk this morning.

“You know it’s time, Eryk.  It’s actually well past time!”
“Why?  What’s the rush?  What makes you think that you know what’s best for me?  You’re still healthy, so I don’t understand why I have to just pick some random woman NOW and marry her.”
“You know it has nothing to do with me or my health.  It has to do with the safety of the realm.  This is your responsibility, Eryk.  What happens if you fall victim to a hunting accident?  We all know that you can be very reckless and goodness knows that you’ve spent every possible minute out of the castle these last weeks.  Do you honestly think that an eight-year-old boy can rule this kingdom?”
“Well if I pick one of the ladies you’ve been parading in front of me and then die in such an accident, do you think that an unborn child can rule the kingdom?  Assuming I even managed to get her with child that quickly.  Your ‘logic’ makes no sense, Father.”

Tarren knew that it was definitely time for his son to find a bride, regardless of the circular arguments.  His mother had been gone nearly a decade now, and Eryk was an only child.  The next closest heir was Tarren’s eight-year-old nephew, the son of his deceased brother.  Davin’s line on his mother’s side was questionable at best, but that hadn’t mattered when she’d been married into the family.  Tarren was young and strong at the time, and Eryk was well past the age when children usually died.  
Regardless, the monarchy needed a strong bloodline, a solid line of descendants, which meant that Eryk, now twenty-five, needed a son and the sooner, the better.  Eryk, of course, disagreed with his father’s assessment, and in a fit of anger, he had once again thrown together a hunt, leaving the castle as quickly as he could this morning.  Tarren and Eryk had been having this argument almost daily now for a week, and the tension between them was palpable.  The fact that Tarren had announced a Courting Ball hadn’t made things any better.
Sighing again, Tarren wearily pulled his attention back to the gentleman before him.  The last case of the day was a farmer, by the look of him.  He was dressed all in drab, worn clothing, dyed various shades of brown and gray.  He held a soft hat in his hands, twisting it as he walked slowly forward toward the king.  He was an ordinary looking man, with dull brown eyes and dirty brown hair, and he looked nervous – maybe even a little bit scared.  Tarren couldn't help but wonder what had brought him here today.  It was not unusual for petitioners to be nervous when they came before their monarch, but this man seemed nervous far beyond what Tarren considered normal.  He had presided over a large number of courts during his time as king, and something about this man just didn't seem right to him.
The man approached, still wringing his hat between his hands in what seemed to be an unconscious nervous gesture.  Suddenly, the petitioner’s hand flicked forward at lightning speed, launching something toward the king.
Tarren blinked, startled, as a streak of silver crossed in front of his eyes with a loud ping and a crash.  It wasn’t until he registered the sound of smashing glass that he realized that it had been the silver serving tray.
“Majesty!  Look out!”
The tray, thrown by the serving man, had deflected the first of the darts thrown by the would-be assassin before striking the assailant in the head.  The serving man was right behind his tray, throwing himself in front of his king as he drew a hidden knife, determined to protect his liege with his life if he needed to.  The other darts struck home.
As the actions of the unknown man and of the serving man registered with the crowd, the throne room erupted into chaos.  Courtiers screamed and tried to flee while some of the guards stationed around the periphery of the throne room tried to fight their way through the people to get to the attacker.  Still other guards tried to get on to the dais in order to protect the king, and the serving man, Rupert, closed quickly with the assailant while ignoring the darts protruding from his body and the poison coursing through his veins.
Rupert let the assassin make the first move, knowing that his job was to defend the king, not necessarily to kill the man in front of him.  The guards were moving in as quickly as they could through the crowd, so it was just a matter of time until they managed to subdue the man.  He crouched, weight on the balls of his feet, and he watched the assassin carefully.
The assassin knew that he had to kill Tarren as fast as possible; delaying was not an option.  He knew that he was likely going to die – attacking the king in his throne room essentially ensured that – but he was still going to complete his contract.  He withdrew the hidden weapons from his clothing and rushed to meet the king’s defender.
As Rupert stepped forward to meet the assassin’s charge, he felt a wave of vertigo hit, rocking his balance.  The world wavered, and he forced himself to focus as he brought his long-bladed knife up to block the assassin’s descending sword stroke.  The assassin’s short sword struck Rupert’s knife with a loud clang, and the force of the blow sent Rupert to his knees, his arm stretched above his head.
He glanced under his arm toward the guards he could see in his peripheral vision.  They were continuing to advance, moving slowly through the diminishing crush of courtiers, but they weren’t nearly close enough.  Rupert knew that he had to get back to his feet, that he had to press the attack, but he could feel the poison’s weakness spreading outwards.  His arms were starting to feel heavy, and his vision was starting to go dark around the edges.
The assassin could feel Rupert’s arm quivering beneath his sword blade, the vibration transferring up to his own arm.  With a wicked smile, the assassin drew his other arm back, a dagger glinting in the sunlight.  He would finish this man quickly and then deal with the king.  The guards were still too far away to do anything to stop him.
As the dagger flashed forward, Rupert somehow found the strength he needed to heave himself to his feet, twisting aside as he did so.  The assassin’s dagger scraped his side, catching in his shirt but only scratching along his skin, and Rupert slashed his own knife across in front of him.  The assassin danced back, easily avoiding the blade, and Rupert felt the world tilt around him again.  As he fell to his hands and knees, unable to stay upright any longer, the first of the guards finally joined the fight.
When the chaos settled after a few minutes, most of the throne room was empty.  The mid-afternoon light coming through the windows added a surreal quality to the scene, though Tarren had to admit that the red hues seemed particularly appropriate with the sharp coppery smell of freshly spilled blood in the air.  There were three noble ladies who’d fainted and needed carrying from the room, but they were unharmed with the exception of a few bruises.  The unknown assassin was dead, lying in a pool of his own blood, having died of injuries caused by the multiple sword wounds across his body.  He had put up quite a fight, and the guards had no choice but to kill him.  A dagger lay near one outstretched hand, and he grasped his short sword in his other hand.  Tarren shook his head, trying to figure out where the man had possibly been able to hide the weapons.  Finally, the serving man was lying in front of the dais with three apparently poisonous darts in his body, having successfully protected his king.  Tarren was only feeling shaken as a result, as were Lord Collin and the secretary.  
Tarren glanced at Collin, worried, and asked the guards to move Rupert to his study, which wasn’t too far from the throne room.  He sent the secretary to summon the healers, and also requested the presence of the captain of the guard, Byron, as soon as possible.  He and Collin followed along behind the guards, each of them silently lost in their own thoughts.  The sudden end to the day’s court session was surprising and both men were visibly distressed by the turn of events.
The healers responded to the summons very quickly, and arrived in Tarren’s study just after the king and his escort.  The guards laid their burden down on a convenient couch and excused themselves to let the healers work.  Two of them remained stationed outside the door while Tarren and Collin moved over to the side of the room and began to discuss the situation in quiet voices.
“What happens if he doesn't survive?  Will they be angry?” asked Collin, uncertainty evident in his voice.  It had been a long time since anyone had actually attempted to assassinate the monarch of Bacovia, and Collin felt that Tarren looked visibly aged by the stress of the attack.  Collin knew that he, at least, certainly felt stressed and old, and his slowed reflexes saddened him.  He should have been able to do more than just cower when the assassin attacked.
“No, they won’t be angry.  Rupert was doing his job, after all.  I’m sure they'll be upset though – I believe he’s a cousin.”  Tarren sighed and looked over at the healers, quickly and quietly working over Rupert’s too still body.  “I have to admit that it doesn't look good, and we should likely prepare ourselves for the worst.”
As if this proclamation was a summons, one of the healers moved away from the others and came toward the king.  “Sire,” he began.  “I’m afraid that he’s fading quickly.  The poison is spreading rapidly throughout his system, and without an antidote, he is going to die, and soon.  
“Unfortunately, with the assassin dead, we cannot know what type of poison he used, but we can try to find out by studying the darts we removed.  The study takes time though, time that he does not have, and there’s no guarantee that we will identify the poison.  
“I’m sorry that we don’t have better news, your Majesty, but we will work as quickly as we can, just in case he manages to hang on longer than we anticipate.”
“I know that you will all do your best,” answered Tarren.  “Is he in any pain?”
“No, your Majesty.  He is unconscious, and is likely to remain that way.”
“Well, we can be thankful for small blessings, I suppose.”
Tarren turned back toward Collin.  “What is taking Byron so long?” he muttered, impatiently.  Collin shrugged, but moved to the door to speak to one of the guards on duty there.  Tarren sighed, very uncomfortable with the whole situation, and moved toward the still form of Rupert lying on the couch.  He stopped a short distance away, not wanting to get in the way of the still working healers.
Looking down at the unconscious form of his friend and bodyguard, Tarren sighed again, thinking to himself that he’d been doing a lot of sighing today.  He straightened at the sound of a knock on the door, and Collin moved to let Byron into the room. 
Byron was a muscular man, below average height at a few inches over five feet tall.  Other than his height, he was totally nondescript when he was standing still, with his short cropped, sandy blond hair and brilliant blue eyes.  Watching him move, however, was like watching a hunting cat in action, his motions flowing smoothly each into the next; there was definitely nothing nondescript about that.  Byron, well respected by his men, was an excellent leader despite the fact that he was younger than the majority of them.  He was the youngest captain in the history of the kingdom, having taken on the role when he was only twenty-one years old.  
Byron glanced toward the busy healers gathered around the couch, and seeing Rupert there, paled slightly.  “Not you too?” he asked, turning back to face the king.
“What do you mean, me too?” asked Tarren.  “What happened?”
“That was what took me so long to get here, your Majesty.  There was an attempt on Eryk’s life, while he was out hawking.”
Tarren looked very upset by the statement, and immediately found a chair to sit in.  “Tell me what happened,” he ordered quietly.
“Well, it’s a little hard to say, exactly.  We have no idea who the man was, where he came from, or especially how he managed to infiltrate Eryk’s small group…  
“Eryk and Branden were having their usual competition, Branden with a falcon and Eryk with a hawk.”  Byron glanced significantly at Rupert before continuing.  “When the birds turned to begin their descent, the hawk seemed to head toward Eryk, but in actuality, it was aiming for the man behind him, who was about to stab the prince in the back.  The hawk streaked past Eryk, catching the prince’s scalp unfortunately, and proceeded to attack the assassin.  It made quite a bloody mess of his face, and the guards got to him just after that.”
“Where is Eryk now?”
“Getting a few stitches from the healers.  The hawk caught his scalp on the way by, as I said.  The darned thing has quite the talons.  No need to worry though; it’s merely a scratch.  The healers said it should heal in a week or so, and it shouldn’t leave much of a scar.”
Collin had been standing silently in the background since his previous interruption.  Now, he turned to the healers and gently asked them to leave.  They assured him that Rupert was resting as comfortably as possible, and then they excused themselves.
“So what now?” Collin asked.  “We have two dead assassins and a nearly dead bodyguard.”
“Well,” answered Tarren, “I think that I should start by writing to an old friend of mine.  This situation seems to be serious, more serious than I originally thought, with an attack against both Eryk and myself.  Since neither of the attacks was successful, I imagine that they will try again, whoever they are.”
“What will happen if…?” Byron trailed off, unknowingly echoing Lord Collin’s words from earlier.  He didn't want to finish the thought; he and Rupert had been friends for years, ever since he became captain of the guard.
“Well,” Tarren answered, “at this point we need to at least pass along word of Rupert’s condition and let them make the decision.  I suspect that they will send a replacement though, especially with his condition apparently so severe.”
“I wonder what he'll be like,” Collin mused.  “I don’t remember Rupert’s predecessor very well.  We've had Rupert here for how long now?”
“At least twenty-five years,” Byron put in.  “Rupert’s been Tarren’s bodyguard for much longer than I've been captain.  I remember being told about him when I assumed the office, and that was a good four or five years ago, now.”
“Rupert replaced Jackob, if you remember.  Jackob wasn’t with us very long either, before he was called back to Evendell.”  Tarren moved over to his desk and pulled out some paper and a pen.  
“There’s no point in putting this off,” he stated as he sat down to write.  “Someone summon a courier please.  It’s a good three or four day ride, as long as the weather stays good.”
Collin left the room to summon the courier Tarren requested.  Byron also excused himself, with a quick pained glance at his comatose friend, to look in on Eryk one last time and to see how quickly news of the double assassination attempts was spreading through the castle.  He also made a mental note to increase the guards in and around the building, especially while they waited for the new bodyguard.
Left alone, Tarren penned the difficult letter.  He wasn’t just writing to request a new bodyguard, he was writing to inform an old friend about the imminent demise of kin.  He thought to himself about Eryk’s attack, and made a very special request.  One that neither Collin nor Byron would approve of, but one that had to be made.
“It has to be done,” Tarren muttered to himself under his breath.  He blew on the paper to help dry the ink, and folded the letter into an envelope.  Taking out some gold sealing wax and the eagle-in-flight royal seal, he sealed the letter and waited for the courier to come and collect it.



Chapter 2

Aislynn studied the task before her.  The wall wasn’t as high as some she’d had to scale in the past, but it was more difficult.  The bottom part of the wall was constructed from the stone typical to the region – rough and easy to scale.  The upper part, however, was covered in cedar shakes, which wouldn't provide hand- and footholds with anything related to the same ease as the lower part.
Her path planned, she started up the wall, easily scaling up the first and second storeys, as she had expected.  She paused briefly on a window ledge before continuing.  From this point-of-view, the next part of her climb seemed a lot more difficult.  It looked like she’d have to hang on to the bottom of the shakes, trusting the majority of her weight to her fingers, while wedging her feet up underneath the shakes a bit lower down.
Aislynn started upwards again, more slowly this time.  She tried to reach up as high as she could to minimize the number of movements she needed to make to reach the roof.  Sound was likely to carry more easily while she moved up the wood, and she didn't want anyone to hear her.  She stretched her left hand up and grabbed on to the next shake, then raised her right foot to continue moving upwards.  
Once she settled her weight, Aislynn reached up with her right hand, stretching for the lip of the roof, but just as she grabbed on, her right foot slipped, leaving her dangling by her hands alone.  She swung a little, smacking into the wall and knocking the breath from her body, but her years of training wouldn't let her fall.  She clung to the wall and slowly pulled her feet back under her, gaining purchase on the shakes below.  
Once she had her weight settled again, she gave one final pull, and she was up and over the lip of the wall and lying on the flat roof of the building.  She lay there for a moment, gathering her thoughts and getting ready to move on to the next part of her task.  This first leg of the assignment had been the easiest, just like usual.  
Now she needed to get from this roof to the one across the street and slightly below.  Flipping her long brown braid back over her shoulder, she studied the situation in front of her.  Her target was a building with only two floors, so she had a bit of a fall to handle, but she had chosen this building specifically with her destination in mind.  The street was narrow here, and the buildings tightly packed, so she should be able to jump across the gap with relative ease.  
Aislynn backed up to the farthest edge of the roof, and took a running leap off the building, keeping her arms extended away from her body as she fell and trying to angle her descent properly.  At the last instant, she pulled her legs up into her chest and bent her arms slightly at the elbow, catapulting her body into a somersault as she landed and using the momentum to roll back up onto her feet.  Unfortunately, the landing was a bit loud.  She froze immediately, listening for any indication that anybody had heard her.  Hearing nothing, she moved on.
Nearly there, she thought to herself as she moved carefully to the edge of the roof.  Her final target was a second floor window, which was open to the summer breeze.  She hooked her legs over the edge of the roof and leaned back, reaching down the wall for the top of the window frame.  She stretched her fingers out, extending the whole of her long, wiry five-and-a-half foot frame, stretching and reaching, until she finally touched the rough wood of the frame.  With a deep breath, she kicked her legs free and started into the flip that would bring her into the room, and to her target.
Suddenly, Aislynn felt a horrible burning pain in her left arm and she was falling, having lost her grip on the window frame.  The ground hurtled toward her as she writhed in agony, not able to get her weight under her properly.
“Concentrate!”
The voice rang out of nowhere and seemed to wake her from her pain-induced frozen state, and she managed to align herself just as she reached the ground, rolling into an awkward tumble.  This time she wasn’t graceful or controlled; she was in too much pain to care if someone caught her in the middle of the street, so she just lay there, panting.  She heard footsteps and felt herself picked up from the ground as she slipped into unconsciousness.


My dear friend,
It is with much regret that I pen this letter.  I am so very sorry to inform you that your loyal subject, Rupert, is currently lying near death after saving me from an assassination attempt.  The healers have not been able to identify the poison as of yet, and without an antidote, he will surely die.  In fact, based on their assessment, it is very likely that he will be dead before you get this letter.
There was an assassination attempt against my son’s life today as well, which Rupert's eesprid foiled, thankfully.  It seems that there is a serious attempt underway for the throne of this kingdom, and we both know that this jeopardizes both of our realms.  The only information we have is that both assassins carried small gold tokens stamped with a black scorpion.  Does that mean anything to you?
With this turn of events, I must respectfully request that Rupert’s replacement be sent as soon as possible, but not for me.  I want the replacement assigned to Eryk.  I have had my time as ruler, as you well know, and I want him protected – I value his life far more than my own.  
I trust that you will know whom to send, and I look forward to meeting the newest member of our little pact.  I will have Byron waiting to greet the new arrival ten days from when I penned this letter.  Have your party wait for him by the waterfall bordering our kingdoms.
I wish I were able to write with better news.  I miss you, my friend.
Tarren

Jackob sighed as he put the letter down.  He ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair and shook his head.  Even after their time together years ago, Tarren obviously still didn't understand that he, Jackob, had nothing to do with choosing the next bodyguard in line or deciding when they leave for Bacovia.  The magical pact joining the two kingdoms determined all of those details.  It had been that way for centuries now, so you’d think that the Bacovians would know how it worked!  
Of course, he thought as he chuckled to himself, they had the easy job.  The monarch of Bacovia merely had to govern his nation and send his army to protect Evendell if needed.  It was the rulers of Evendell that spent their lives preparing for the call, the rulers of Evendell who gave their lives, or the lives of their specially trained subjects, to protect the monarch of Bacovia.  
Now, with Rupert’s apparent demise, it was just a matter of time before the magic brought forth the next bodyguard.  Jackob settled down to wait for his or her arrival, wondering which of the students it would be.



Chapter 3

As Aislynn regained consciousness, she felt a cold cloth on her forehead and another wrapped around the lower part of her left arm.  The pain was subsiding, thankfully.
“Keep still,” said a calm, quiet voice.  “The pain will pass soon.”
“Do you know what this is?”
“Yes.  And so should you, if you bothered to think about it,” came the caustic reply.  “When the pain has passed, and you can think clearly again, you will know.”
It seemed to take forever for the pain to subside, but Aislynn was soon able to sit up again.  She stretched each muscle carefully, and her sensitive fingers probed along her skull under her thick brown hair, searching for any damage done by her fall.  Her Master sat beside her, waiting patiently for her to finish her examination and secretly pleased that she was disciplined enough to carry out the examination despite her pain and her curiosity as to the cause of it.  Finally, Aislynn was satisfied that she was whole, though bruised, and she removed the cloth from her arm, peeking to see what had been causing the horrendous pain.
Her arm showed what looked like a bright red burn.  It resembled an eagle, and occupied a spot just above her wrist, on the underside of her arm.  
“Does this mean what I think it does?” she asked hesitantly, turning toward her Master.
“Yes.  It means that the time has come for you to take your place at the side of the person you are to protect.  You were born with that mark, though it fades during the first year of life, and that mark is why you have spent the majority of your life here with me.  Now, all of your training will be put to the test.  You have been trained by some of the finest assassins in this kingdom, and now you are Called.”
“I don’t understand.”  Aislynn looked confusedly at her Master.  “There are many others who have been training longer than I have.  Why not one of them?”
“The magic of the pact that binds the realms determines the choice.  Besides, most of the others don’t have the mark, just as they don’t have an eesprid.  They are destined to be fine assassins, but nothing more.  You will have to be better than that – you will be a bodyguard.  Go now, to his Majesty.  You are Called, and you must go.”
She knew that tone, and knew better than to argue with the man.  She stood, bowed low from the waist, and then turned away, whistling a summons as she left.  The wolf rose from the ground where she’d been waiting for Aislynn to regain consciousness, and trotted along behind her mistress.  Aislynn unconsciously rested her hand on the wolf’s back, and the two of them left the training arena.
It was a short trip into the main part of the castle since the Academy was part the palace complex.  Despite her proximity, Aislynn still went to the throne room directly, not bothering to change or freshen up.  When the Master told you to go, you went with no questions asked.  
It seemed like they were expecting her too, since the guards let her into the king’s presence without hesitation.  The king was sitting upon his throne, and she approached immediately, bowing as she presented herself.
“The Guild Master sent me,” she explained.  “He told me you would be expecting me.”
“Well, not you exactly, but I’m not really surprised.  I was honestly expecting either you or your brother, though I was hoping that it was neither of you.”  Jackob stood up and signaled to Aislynn to follow.  “Let’s go talk somewhere more comfortable, since it’s just you and I.  And Cheta will be more comfortable too.”
Aislynn smiled fondly down at her wolf, and then turned her smile toward the king.  “Thank you, Majesty.  I’m sure we'll all appreciate something less formal.”  
The three of them moved toward a small door set behind the dais, and Jackob’s fox rose from her place beside the throne to follow them.  Cheta growled a low greeting to the animal, and she yipped quietly in return.
“So, my dear,” Jackob began as the humans settled themselves onto comfortable chairs in the study.  “It seems that your turn has come.  The Master wouldn't have sent you to me otherwise.  May I see it?”  
He nodded toward her, and Aislynn held her left arm up for scrutiny, still a little thrown by how quickly events were moving.  Cheta seemed to pick up her discomfort, whining softly.  
Jackob smiled slightly, and settled more comfortably into his chair.  “It seems that the time has come for a bit of a history lesson,” he said.
“You know that some of the people born in this kingdom are marked as you are marked, and are blessed with the eesprid, yes?  Well it’s time you learned exactly how that came about and what it has to do with you.  
“A long time ago, Evendell was under attack from a considerably more powerful force.  We are small, and the rich mountains that provide our ore, gems and gold leave our people scattered and difficult to defend.  We were attacked by two allied nations, one to the south and one to the east, and we were losing ground at a frightening pace.  The nation to the north and west of us, Bacovia, hadn't been a part of the conflict up to that point.  
“Our enemies, seeking to surround us, sent an assassin to kill the king of Bacovia, and this attack happened just as an envoy from Evendell was arriving to ask for Bacovia’s help in the ongoing conflict.  The envoy, having been highly trained as you have been trained, managed to stop the assassin and save Bacovia’s king.  In gratitude, he sent his armies to our aid and drove the enemies from our borders.
“After the conflict was resolved, the kings of Bacovia and Evendell met to discuss what had happened.  Even then, we had one of the best Academies in any of the nearby kingdoms, and our people were very skilled.  Bacovia is a large realm, and shares borders with six kingdoms, including ours.  The king felt that he could use someone highly trained in the position of his bodyguard, and in return, Bacovia would protect Evendell from her enemies.  This seemed like a fair agreement, and the pact was formed, born of a magic spell cast by mages from both realms.
“It turns out that the pact was stronger than anyone had anticipated, in either of our kingdoms.  The first bodyguard sent to Bacovia’s king was none other than the envoy who had saved the king in the first place.  They grew close and eventually married and it was their union that made the pact what it is today.  
“Some of Evendell’s royal children, and some rare subjects of the kingdom, are born with an odd birthmark, which resembles the eagle-in-flight royal crest of Bacovia.  These children also have companions, the eesprid, who come to them at birth.  As you know, it is our law that all children with this birthmark receive training at the Academy, and these are the assassins who eventually become bodyguards for Bacovia’s monarchy.  
“The eesprid are there to provide companionship during the long and difficult training process, and they also provide the bodyguards with someone they can trust without fail.  Many of our eesprid have saved our lives.  
“There are usually two or three marked children in each generation, which seems to account for the losses that are inherent in the position, and the next knows it is time to take their place when their birthmark burns and becomes visible again.  I was Tarren’s bodyguard for a few years, and Rupert replaced me when the time came for me to take the throne here.  Now you are going to take Rupert’s place.”
Aislynn looked shocked, and she was speechless for some time, processing all of the information she had just heard.  Finally, she nodded to herself and asked her question again.
“Why me though?  There are others in the Academy, all of them older and with more training than I have.”
“We do not choose who goes.  The magic of the pact decides who among the marked is the most suitable for the job, and in this case, it happens to be you.  You should go and pack.”
“But what am I going to need?” Aislynn asked, accepting her position and getting down to business.  “I can’t take everything, obviously, but I need to know what my cover will be.  Rupert was a serving man, right?”
“He was, but you don’t need to worry about that.  Your role is a bit different than his was, so you'll actually be going as yourself.  Marja will be going with you, to help.”  Jackob smiled at this, waiting for a reaction.  He wasn’t disappointed.
“You can’t be serious!  I don’t know anything about being proper royalty – I've spent my whole life in the Academy.  That’s totally insane.  You’re totally insane!  I’d be better off as a serving girl.”
Jackob laughed.  “That’s why I’m sending Marja.  She'll be able to help you along the way.  Trust me though.  Once Tarren fills you in, you'll understand why it’s important to be yourself.”
Aislynn had to admit that Marja was probably the best person in the world to have along if you wanted to play princess.  She was totally caught up in the latest fashions and the latest gossip around the court, and she usually talked non-stop, which meant that Aislynn wouldn't have to carry on a conversation during the trip.  Add Marja’s polished manners, her long, curly, golden hair, and her bright green eyes and that also meant that she would likely be able to hide in the background while Marja took center stage.  Next to her, Aislynn’s straight brown hair, and plain brown eyes would go unnoticed.  
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Father,” she said quietly.  
“I know that I'll miss you, my daughter.  I know that you haven’t been around the court very much, but I've always been able to catch up with you at the Academy when I wanted to.  You will have Cheta and Marja to keep you company while you’re gone, and I’m sure you'll make new friends.  I'll have to put up with your brother and that noisy crow of his all alone!  You know that your mother is absolutely no help when it comes to him.”  Jackob rolled his eyes for emphasis.  “Now off with you.  It took the courier four days to reach us, and the captain of Bacovia’s guard will be meeting you in six days at the border between the kingdoms.  Byron is a good man, and Rupert spoke highly of him.  You'll be able to trust him, since he knows about us in his capacity as captain of the king’s guard.”
“I still don’t quite understand why I have to go to Bacovia in full royal splendor.  Wouldn't it be less conspicuous to take over Rupert’s job?”
“Well, yes and no.  It would be odd for someone as young as you are to be in a position as prominent as Rupert’s was, especially as someone newly hired to the staff.  However, there will be a number of other young ladies around the Bacovian court in the coming days, so you should be able to fit right in.”  Jackob smiled again.
“There will?  Why?”
“Because the prince is choosing a bride.”
Aislynn’s jaw dropped.  “You mean you want me to go and parade myself in front of all of these strangers as a potential bride-to-be?  I don’t think so!”
Jackob was having a lot of fun with this.  His daughter had always been antisocial, so knowing that he was forcing her into a very social situation made him chuckle.  He also knew that Cheta and Marja would keep her grounded, and he knew that her training was complete, so she would be fine.  She was talented and he felt that she was ready for this challenge.  He just couldn't resist turning the knife a little, so to speak.  He turned a stern face toward his youngest daughter.
“You will do what you are told.  Your training makes you a highly skilled assassin, and assassins make the best bodyguards because they know all of the tricks of the trade.  You have proven that you can infiltrate any number of situations, and this is no different.  Marja will coach you on the latest trends and on your presentation.  You will go and do your job, and you will do it well.”
Aislynn bowed her head in meek submission.  “Yes, your Majesty,” she said quietly, knowing that she was beaten.  This was, after all, what she had been training for, even if the details of her assignment were not exactly how she had envisioned them.
Jackob knew she wasn’t happy, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it.  “I have a letter for Tarren,” he said, matching her quiet tone.  “I’d appreciate it if you could take it with you and hand-deliver it yourself.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”  Aislynn had a little more animation in her voice now.  “I won’t let you down.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some packing to do, and an early morning, apparently.”  With that, she stood up from her chair and, with a bow of her head, headed off to her little used room on the upper floor of the castle.
Marja was already there, and she was picking through Aislynn’s clothing with sounds of disgust while she waited for her friend to arrive.  Theirs was an odd friendship, with Aislynn almost constantly in training at the Academy and Marja living her life in the court that Aislynn loathed, but they were still close.  
“How can you possibly be expected to present yourself wearing these clothes?  And look at your jewelry and accessories!  You are truly a disgrace, Aislynn.  It’s a good thing that your father is sending me along with you.  You’d be sure to make a fool of yourself otherwise, and we can’t have that, what with the prince looking for a bride.  How exciting!”
Aislynn let her friend prattle on, listening with only one ear, while she packed what was truly important.  On her bed, she laid out her assortment of weapons – paired daggers, a short sword, a crossbow and a sling, both of these last two with pouches of the appropriate ammunition.  These were the weapons she was most familiar with, and most comfortable with, though she had training to use a number of others.  She wrapped her weapons carefully, and laid them into the bottom of one of the trunks Marja was apparently expecting her to fill with her belongings.
Marja was just finishing going through her wardrobe, throwing clothing behind her and onto the bed.  
“I guess that these will have to do,” she sighed, turning around and surveying the piles of fabric scattered around the room.  “We will definitely have to pay a visit to a seamstress as soon as we arrive in Bacovia,” she said.   Aislynn shuddered at the thought of being fitted for yet more unnecessary finery, and she started to fold her clothing neatly into the trunk.  She was sure that one trunk would be more than enough.
When it was all over with, one trunk was indeed enough to pack all of Aislynn’s “worthwhile” belongings.  With only a nightdress and the next day’s clothing left out, Aislynn relaxed into a hot bath to ease her day’s aches and then she settled into bed, part of her eager for the next dawn and part of her hoping that this night would never end.



Chapter 4

The carriage bounced along the bumpy dirt road in the early morning light, throwing Aislynn around as she tried to dress.  Marja had spent the past days horrified that Aislynn had been riding around wearing pants, totally uncaring about how she appeared before the men in their escort.  Aislynn knew that the guards were more than used to women like her and she didn’t really care what they thought anyway, so she hadn’t thought twice about it.  
When Aislynn had planned to continue wearing her usual apparel today, Marja had thrown a hysterical fit.  Today, after what Aislynn considered to be five grueling days of boring travel, they were finally going to meet up with the escort from Bacovia, and Marja, at least, was determined that Aislynn would look the part of a royal princess when they got there.  Since her father had sent Marja along to “help her fit in”, Aislynn figured that she should at least try to make herself presentable, hence the current, rather uncomfortable situation.
With the pale green dress finally over her head, Aislynn struggled to make it sit properly across her shoulders, cursing under her breath.  She was not a fan of the current fashions, with tight bodice and sleeves, and the skirt hugging her hips before dropping straight to the ground.  Even though the divided skirt was designed specifically for riding, she still felt constricted and unable to move freely, and she groaned as she turned her back to Marja so that her friend could lace the dress tightly up the back.  As she turned, she caught a glance of Cheta loping along beside the carriage, and she swore the wolf was laughing at her!  
“You’re next, you fleabag,” Aislynn snarled.  “We should dunk you in the river, clean you all up, and tie a ribbon around your neck for good measure.”  
Cheta didn't look at all frightened by the threat and just kept her wolfy grin as she jogged along, tongue lolling.
“Turn around and let me look at you,” Marja demanded when she finished tying the laces.  She looked Aislynn up and down, appraising her appearance, and she sighed in disgust.  “There must be something we can do with your hair.”
“First my clothing, and now my hair,” Aislynn complained, rolling her eyes. “What, exactly, is wrong with my hair?”
“Aside from the fact that it has been in that braid every day since we left?  There are more hairstyles in the world, you know.”  Marja sighed again, shaking her head in disbelief and making her perfect curls bounce around her shoulders, not understanding why Aislynn didn't care about her appearance at all.  
Marja reached into a small box that was sitting on the seat beside her and started sorting through accessories, looking for something that matched the dress.  “You really are quite something, Aislynn,” she commented.
“Well whatever you do, just make sure you don’t do something that’s all elaborate and going to fall out when I ride.  I have no intention of staying in this carriage all day with you or of riding in this carriage when we enter into the city,” Aislynn said, “and don’t bother trying to convince me otherwise.”
Marja shut her mouth with an angry snap, swallowing the comment she’d been about to make.  The king may have sent her along to try to civilize Aislynn, but Aislynn was still a princess, despite her lack of refinement, and she definitely outranked Marja, who was only a daughter from a noble family.  Besides, this really wasn’t worth arguing about, and Marja had long ago learned to pick her battles with Aislynn.  Once Aislynn made her mind up about something, there was no changing it, so it was just easier to let her have her way unless it was something really important…like riding in pants!  
Marja hummed to herself as she pinned up Aislynn’s hair, happy to be doing something to help her friend, even if she didn't appreciate it.  She had never minded doing some of the duties of a maidservant for Aislynn; she loved the fact that Aislynn would let her do pretty much whatever she wanted to.  Marja was also excited that Aislynn was going to meet the prince of Bacovia, and she hoped the she wouldn't ruin it by acting entirely uncivilized.  She applied a few cosmetics to bring out Aislynn's best features – her dark brown eyes and her high cheekbones – and sat back to admire her work.  
“There,” she said.  “All presentable.  Does the hair meet with your approval?”
Aislynn reached up and brushed her hands gently along her hair, not wanting to disturb the delicate-seeming pins that held it all into position.  It felt solid enough, so she gave her head a shake.  
“Perfect,” Aislynn said, smiling, when her movement didn't seem to disturb Marja’s careful work.
“When did you get a tattoo?” Marja asked.
“Tattoo?”
“Yeah, there on your left arm.  I saw it when you lifted your arm up to touch your hair.”
Aislynn examined her left arm, looking at the tattoo she'd apparently gotten at some point.  It was the eagle mark, which had faded from a burning red to a series of pinks, purples and blues.  It was quite pretty, really.  The question made Aislynn uneasy though, and with a quick thank you to Marja for her help, she sprang from the carriage like an anxious child cooped up inside for too long.  She was in her saddle and riding up to the front of the caravan within seconds.
Marja, watching her friend kick her horse into a canter, just shook her head.  She’d spent all this time making the woman presentable, and Aislynn just didn’t care.  The princess is incorrigible, Marja decided.  
It was just a short time later that the meeting place came into view, and the Bacovian escort was already there waiting.  Aislynn slowed her horse to a trot and rode ahead, with Cheta alongside, to greet the party of men who had gathered to meet them.  She scanned the area quickly, analyzing the terrain and her opponents, just as she’d been taught.  
The ground here was soft due to the spray thrown up by the waterfall tumbling down the mountainside, which resulted in a thick carpet of grass alongside the road.  This would make for a softer landing if it became necessary to jump from the saddle for any reason.  The river itself was not a good option for a quick getaway though, with the waterfall churning the water here into a violent maelstrom of rapids and riptides, so either back along the road or into the nearby forest was her best bet for an escape route.  
The men themselves, her potential opponents, were all armed with swords and spears, and they were all dressed in the red and gray uniform of the royal guard, all of them essentially alike. Except for one.  He stood out because he was younger and shorter than the others were, and he was definitely the leader – his men deferred to him even though he’d said nothing as of yet.  Their attitudes were similar to those of dogs awaiting orders from their alpha, their attention always on him.  He was the one who strode forward to meet her, and to be polite, Aislynn slid down from her saddle to meet him on even terms.  
As he approached, Cheta uttered a low growl of warning.  She sensed that this man was dangerous, and she tensed at Aislynn’s side, ready to defend her if necessary.  Aislynn could only agree with Cheta’s assessment – this man walked with perfect balance, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.  Seeing Cheta’s alert stance, the man slowed and stopped a safe distance away.  
“I am Byron, captain of the royal guard,” he introduced himself.  “You, I assume, are the new emissary to the court?”
Aislynn smiled, and nodded.  “I am Princess Aislynn of Evendell.  I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”  Take that, she thought at Marja.  I do know my manners, thank you very much.
Byron smiled.  “Shall we talk?  I think it would be a good idea if we went for a short walk along the river.”  As he spoke, he began moving toward the riverbank, fully expecting her to follow.  Aislynn wasn’t sure what she thought about that assumption, but after a short pause, she moved toward the riverbank anyway, curious to hear what he had to say.
Once they were out of earshot of the Bacovian group, Byron turned toward her.  “I am very sorry about your cousin.  Rupert was a good friend of mine, and I will miss him.”
“Thank you for your condolences.”  Aislynn really didn't know what to say.  Rupert had been Tarren’s bodyguard for longer than she’d been alive, and she had never met him.  He may have been kin, but he didn't matter to her.  She changed the subject.
“So do all visitors to Bacovia get the honor of an escort into the capital city by the captain of the royal guard, or are you here specifically for me?”  Aislynn turned toward him, eying him openly, trying to appraise his speed and strength.  He was handsome enough, she supposed, but nothing spectacular.  His blond hair was short and his eyes a bright blue that stood out against the tanned skin of his face.  If she hadn’t seen him move, Aislynn likely wouldn’t have ever given him a second glance.
Byron laughed, a warm sound, leaving nothing back.  “No, I’m here just for you, and I'll admit that you’re not what I was expecting.”  
He calmly looked her up and down, appraising her just as she was appraising him.  Aislynn looked just as she was supposed to look - a young lady of royal blood, prim and proper.  Her long brown hair was pulled back from her face in a mass of pretty twists, and the pale green dress clung to her thin, attractive figure while hiding her strong muscles beneath.  
“There certainly doesn't seem to be much to you,” he commented.
Aislynn bristled at the remark.  “Do you want to try your luck?” she asked menacingly, her temper overriding her attempt at manners.
“Oh no!” he protested.  “I certainly don’t want to ruin your pretty dress.” 
Byron chuckled to himself, but then stopped suddenly, feeling the pressure of a knife against his throat.  He hadn't even seen her move.  He raised his hands in submission, impressed despite himself.  
“Well, you certainly live up to the reputation of your people.  I think you may be even faster than Rupert was.”
Aislynn withdrew the knife and tucked it safely away in her hidden scabbard.  “I’m here to do a job, and I wouldn't have been sent if I wasn’t capable of doing it.  I expect that you won’t forget that.  Or make belittling comments that are beneath a man of your position.”
“I‘ll mind my tongue better from now on,” Byron promised.  “Just to show you that there are no hard feelings, why don’t you take over Rupert’s sparring practice with me?  We used to meet each morning at dawn, in the courtyard of the guards’ barracks.  I'll show you where that is when we reach the castle.  Rupert always found it difficult to stay in shape, to find time to practice, and I can use the daily check to my ego.”  He smiled at her, trying to be welcoming.  “What do you say?”
Aislynn wasn’t about to start her tenure in Bacovia with a grudge.  “Thank you,” she said.  “I’m honored.  It will be nice to have someone to exercise with, someone who knows what to expect.  Father told me that I could trust you – Rupert spoke highly of you, I’m told.”
Byron turned back toward the caravan, looking flattered.  
“It’s probably time for us to head out.  We should reach the city in the late afternoon.  His Majesty has prepared a dinner to welcome you, though I expect that he'll be as surprised as I am that it is you who are here.”  He chuckled.  “Let’s get going.  Oh, and your wolf may cause some difficulties at court.”
Aislynn was shocked.  “She’s an eesprid!  She'll cause no problems.”
“That’s not quite what I meant.  I know that she'll behave herself.  I’m more worried about the castle dogs.  Prince Eryk is fond of hunting, and keeps a fairly large pack,” Byron explained.
“That won’t be a problem,” Aislynn assured him.  “We'll introduce Cheta when we arrive and it will all get sorted out.”  She dropped her hand onto the wolf’s head, fondly scratching her ears.
The three of them started back up along the river toward the caravan and the Bacovian escort.  The main group from Evendell was already turning for home, while the Bacovians were getting into position alongside the wagon containing Aislynn’s belongings, as well as those of Marja and the two guards who would be staying with her at the castle.  She may not need a lot of protection, but there were appearances to maintain, after all.  The carriage holding Marja was already moving along the road, also escorted by Bacovian guards.  
Aislynn swung back up into her saddle, again totally ignoring the way her dress slid up to reveal her legs briefly.  After she was mounted, she moved up to the front of the column to ride with Byron, who met her there once he retrieved his own mount.  Cheta loped alongside them, undisturbed by anything that was happening.  Byron’s mount didn't react to her at all.
“See?” Aislynn said, indicating Cheta.  “There won’t be any trouble.  Eesprid are not threatening to regular animals the way their natural counterparts are.  It’s really quite fascinating, if you watch them interact for any length of time.”
“Well I'll admit that it is certainly strange.  Rupert had a hawk, and it usually spent time in the mews with the other birds, or in Rupert’s room.  We had the window rigged with a string so that the bird could let itself in and out freely.  There wasn’t any conflict with any of the other animals, and I figured that it was because there wasn’t any contact.  I would have expected a wolf to cause a whole pile of problems.”
“Cheta’s very quiet, as far as canines go.  And the castle dogs at home never had a problem with her, just as they have no problem with my father’s fox.  No need to worry.”
As they rode, the two of them chatted, the talk turning mostly to unimportant things, and Aislynn found that she really enjoyed the ride through the countryside with Byron.  It was very different than talking with Marja.  She and Byron had more in common and more to talk about, and Aislynn was almost disappointed when Eaglecrest, the capital city of Bacovia, finally came into view.  On one hand, she was happy that that journey was over, but on the other hand, it was rare for her to find someone that she could fully be herself around.  
The capital city spread out over a massive mountain plateau, with the castle itself occupying the highest ground closest to the mountains from which they were descending.  Near the castle were the other important buildings, such as the homes of the nobility that resided in the city, and public buildings such as the cathedral, the courthouse and the library.  The shops and homes of the rest of the people who lived in the city were organized into districts, connected by what appeared to be a warren of streets.  
The countryside rolled away from Eaglecrest, spilling down the mountains, and it was dotted with the farms and fields that fed the massive city.  There was also a forest that stretched on as far as the eye could see, heading off to the east.  It was a beautiful location to live.
The group continued down the mountain road and soon reached the outskirts of the city.  Here between the mountains and the castle was where the poorest folk lived, and the buildings were a bit ramshackle and dirty.  The streets were clean though, and the people lining the way to watch the riders seemed happy enough.
The procession continued through the streets, seeing more and more people coming out of their homes and shops to catch a glimpse of what was happening.  They seemed excited to see the rampant bear of Evendell’s royal crest on the carriage, which surprised Aislynn.  She turned to Byron, confused.  
“Why are these people so happy to see us?  I doubt any of them even know where Evendell is, despite its close proximity.”
“They are excited because they think that you’re here for the Courting Ball,” Byron replied.
“The what?  I've never heard of a Courting Ball.”  Aislynn looked over at Byron, a puzzled look on her face.
“Well you know that Eryk is supposed to be choosing a bride, right?”  
Aislynn nodded.  
“Well we don’t have arranged marriages here.  When the time comes for the heir to choose a bride, the king holds a ball.  All of the nobility in the realm come to officially introduce their daughters to the prince, hoping he'll choose one of them.  They think that you've come as a prospective bride.”
Aislynn grimaced.  “Father commented something along the same lines.  When I asked what my cover was going to be here, he told me that there would be a number of young ladies around the court right now and that I would fit right in.  Nobody said anything about a ball.  Marja is going to be thrilled though.”
They reached the castle after navigating the maze of roads, and Aislynn dismounted quickly, intending to get her horse and herself out of the way of everyone entering the courtyard, when she heard an urgent bark right behind her.  She reacted without thinking, trusting Cheta implicitly, whirling around the front of her mount and ducking under his nose.  Out of nowhere, a large black stallion exploded into the courtyard, scattering servants and guardsmen left and right.  
Aislynn found this behavior horrifying.  The large horse could have run any of these people down, and the man astride him didn't seem to care in the least.  She strode up to the big horse, Byron following unnoticed behind her, watching curiously.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, riding in here like that?  You could have killed any of us, including me!”  Aislynn’s eyes flashed with anger, her cheeks flushed in a way that cosmetics couldn't imitate.  She glared up at man looking down at her.
“Don’t you know who I am?” the man sneered, not answering her question.
“I know that you are unmannered and egotistical, which means that you are likely a member of the nobility of this kingdom.  Other than that, I have no idea who you are, and I really don’t care.  I do care for my safety and the safety of my people, even if you don’t have a care in the world for your own, so I demand that you get off of that great unmannered brute you call a mount and behave like the gentleman you are supposed to be.”
Shocked speechless by this outburst, and unused to having his actions questioned, the man unconsciously did as she told him.  It was only when his feet touched the ground that he seemed to realize that he’d followed an order that he’d had no intention of obeying.  Eryk looked at the woman standing in front of him, taking note of her nicely done hair, her beautiful eyes.  She was taller than most of the women currently at the court, coming up to nearly his chin, and he figured that she was a little younger than his twenty-five years.
“Just who are you?” he asked, awestruck, and just a little frightened.
By this time, the rest of Aislynn’s caravan had pulled into the courtyard, and Eryk’s hunt had finished gathering as well.  Most of the members of both groups had heard Aislynn’s outburst and had watched the result.  Byron picked this moment to intervene.  
“Your Highness, may I present the Princess Aislynn of Evendell.”  He turned to address Aislynn.  “And your Highness, may I present Prince Eryk of Bacovia.”  His voice sparkled with amusement.  It looked like Eryk had finally met his match.
Eryk stood there, dumbstruck, as Aislynn turned without another word and collected her horse from a groom who had picked up the reins she’d dropped.  She led the animal away with a quick whistle to Cheta, who jumped up and followed immediately.  Byron laughed aloud and turned to follow the pair toward the stable.  This was going to be interesting, he thought to himself.
Branden elbowed Eryk in the side, rousing him from his shock.  He was trying hard not laugh at the look on Eryk’s face.  
“She’s right, you know.  Even if you are an arrogant jerk, you wouldn't want someone to get hurt.”
“Whose side are you on?”  
Eryk was moving now, taking up his horse’s reins and starting to lead the beast toward the stable.  He stopped suddenly in the middle of the courtyard, and handed his reins to a nearby groom.  He had no desire to be in the barn just yet.  Branden laughed again and followed the prince into the castle to clean up.



Chapter 5

In the stable, Aislynn quickly found an empty stall and stripped her horse of his tack.  She began brushing him with quick, agitated movements, working out some of her anger.  Byron watched from the entrance of the stall, not wanting to interrupt her obviously angry thoughts, so he didn't speak until her irritated movements began to slow.
“Why don’t we introduce Cheta to the pack, and then I'll show you around and take you up to your rooms.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” she responded, turning with a hint of a smile.  Aislynn’s temper was quick to flare up, but it was also quick to cool.  
It turned out that the dog pack was housed in a building that adjoined the stables and the mews, the three buildings keeping all of the animals together instead of scattered all over the castle grounds.  The dogs had a large communal pen inside for sleeping and a large fenced area outside for running.  They were good-natured mutts, and Cheta made her introductions quickly and easily, just as Aislynn had expected.  
The handlers were another story, reacting as if a wild animal had wandered into the castle and was about to lay waste to the place.  It took Byron, Aislynn and the obviously non-aggressive Cheta to convince them that the wolf was no threat to the pack or to them, and it took a long time.
Trying to make up for the time lost with the dogs, Byron took Aislynn on a whirlwind tour of the castle on the way to her suite of rooms, pointing out the guards’ barracks - including the courtyard where they would meet for practice - the dining hall, the kitchen, and the library.  Her rooms were on the same floor as the royal suites, but at the other end of the building in the wing generally reserved for diplomatic guests.
When she crossed the threshold of her suite, thanking Byron for his help, Marja greeted her cheerfully.  
“Welcome,” she said.  “I have most of your things unpacked, and I've had a bath poured.  You should hurry though, because I have the seamstress coming soon and dinner will likely be served not long after you’re done with her.”  
Aislynn’s mind whirled, trying to catch up with all of the information Marja had just tossed her way.  “Why a seamstress?  Didn't I bring enough dresses?” 
“Oh, you silly!  You need a new dress for the Courting Ball.  That is why you’re here, isn't it?  At least officially?  You want to look your best when you dance with the prince.  Besides, I told you that you needed new clothes before we even left Evendell.”  
Marja was definitely in her element, and her good mood proved it.  Aislynn suspected that she’d be getting a new dress too.
Aislynn rolled her eyes at her friend, but said nothing.  Instead, she looked around the reception room, noting the large windows and comfortable furniture.  The well-appointed bedroom had a large bed, a good-sized wardrobe and currently, a large copper tub full of warm water.  After a quick peek through the only doorway she hadn't explored, which revealed a smaller but no less luxurious bedroom for Marja, Aislynn rid herself of the uncomfortable green dress and slipped into the bathtub.  She let herself soak for as long as she was able, then washed up quickly and got dressed in her best shift just as the seamstress arrived.
It only took about ten minutes for Aislynn to feel like a life-sized doll.  Marja and the seamstress, who was a tall, thin woman named Anna, chatted like life-long friends and discussed Aislynn as if she wasn’t there, turning her this way and that as necessary to take measurements and get ideas.  
“So I was thinking maybe a pale pink,” started Marja.
“Oh no,” Anna disagreed.  “Her base skin tone is yellow, so a pink will not suit her.  I think that a shade of blue would be better.”  She held up a number of fabric samples, trying to decide which shade flattered Aislynn the most.  “This one, I think.”
Then Anna started taking measurements again, while she and Marja discussed styles.  It turned out that the style at court had recently changed, moving away from the tight sleeves and bodice that Aislynn found so uncomfortable.  Instead, with the arrival of the hot weather, the style was moving to an off-the-shoulder sleeve, with a gathered bodice and a loose, flowing skirt.  Aislynn was secretly thrilled, but Marja was only concerned with altering Aislynn’s current wardrobe to keep up with the new style, so Marja made an appointment with Anna for the next day.  
Aislynn slipped off to dress for dinner, thankful to be finished with the whole ordeal.  She picked a dress that most closely matched the current style, to make Marja happy, and rushed out of the suite before Marja could catch her again and torture her with more cosmetics and hairstyles.  Cheta followed closely behind her, leaving Marja to catch up later if she planned to eat dinner with the rest of them.
When Aislynn reached the dining hall, she found that she was early, so she took the opportunity to tuck herself into a corner to observe the other guests as they arrived.  She didn't have to wait long before Eryk and his friend appeared.  She remembered the other man from the courtyard, and it was obvious that they were close friends.  She couldn't hear what they were saying from her position, but she could tell from their body language that they were very comfortable with each other and were currently having a light-hearted discussion, joking and laughing.  That happy-go-lucky attitude changed immediately when the next of the dinner guests arrived.  
He was a middle-aged gentleman, haughty and self-important.  He strode into the room as if he expected to be the center of attention, and he glanced over at the two younger men with a sneer and immediately dismissed them as unimportant.  Aislynn wondered who he was to dismiss the heir to the throne like that.  A woman who shared a very strong resemblance, likely a sister, and a young boy accompanied him.  She was timid and uncertain, looking to the man for guidance.  The child, however, was alert and full of natural curiosity, and he was the first to notice Aislynn and Cheta.
“Mother!  Look over there,” he gasped.  “It’s a real, live wolf!”  He tugged free of the woman’s convulsive grasp on his shoulder and ran over.  His gray eyes gleamed with excitement as he approached, entirely unafraid.  Aislynn smiled and kneeled down to his level, Cheta moving forward with her, toward the boy.
“Why, hello there.  What’s your name?”
“I’m Davin,” the little boy said proudly.  “May I touch your wolf?”
“Yes, you may Davin.  Her name is Cheta.”  Even though Aislynn was kneeling beside the boy and speaking to him, she still heard the approach of the man he had arrived with, and she looked up as he approached.  He scowled down at her as if she was something distasteful and grabbed Davin by the arm.  
“Come with me,” he said.  “You know better than to approach unfamiliar animals, especially wild ones.  Have you learned nothing?”  He nearly dragged the little boy back across the room as Aislynn stood.  
Since she’d had attention drawn to her, she decided to approach the table where the others were waiting for the meal to begin.  She nodded a greeting to Eryk, much to his companion’s amusement, and they all waited for the king to arrive.
When Tarren joined them soon after, accompanied by Collin and Byron, he smiled warmly at Aislynn and indicated that she should come and sit to his right.  Everyone else took places at the table and the servants came in immediately with the first course.
Tarren turned toward Aislynn to speak with her between mouthfuls of soup.  “So, my dear, welcome to Bacovia.  Have you met everyone?”
“No, your Majesty, I have not yet had the pleasure.”
“Well, we shall remedy that.  Here to my left is my son, Eryk, whom you've met, according to Byron.”  Tarren’s eyes sparkled with that statement.  Apparently, he found their initial meeting as amusing as Byron had.  
“Beside Eryk is his friend, Branden.  At the far end of the table is my nephew Davin, accompanied by his uncle, Lord Durham, and his mother, my sister-in-law, the Lady Cora.  Byron, you have met, and beside you is Lord Collin, my chief advisor.”  Aislynn nodded to each guest as the king introduced them, filing names and faces away for future reference.  
“My companion, the Lady Marja, was unable to accompany me this evening, but I’m sure everyone will be able to meet her tomorrow.”  Aislynn was very curious to see what Eryk would make of Marja.
Dinner itself was a quiet affair, with little conversation.  Everyone seemed ill at ease, and Aislynn couldn't figure out why.  It set her on edge though, and made her very uncomfortable.  It was a relief when the meal was over.
Durham, Cora and Davin excused themselves first, followed immediately by Eryk and Branden.  With a look, Tarren gathered the rest of them, and the three of them followed the king to his study for a more private discussion.
“So you have had quite the whirlwind of a day, haven’t you Aislynn?”  Collin asked, starting the conversation informally.  “We are very pleased to have you here.”
Aislynn suspected that Byron had warned the two gentlemen about her ahead of time, since neither of them had seemed surprised to see her at dinner.  She was glad that it apparently wasn’t going to be a problem.
“Thank you, Lord Collin.  Your majesty, I have a letter for you, from my father.”
Tarren took the letter and read it quickly, his face becoming very serious as he did so.  He looked up and addressed the three of them.  
“It appears that I was correct,” he said quietly.  “Jackob informs me that the tokens we found are the calling card of a guild from Cembrance.  They are highly skilled and disciplined, so he also warns that we won’t be able to take one alive.  Or if we do, the assassin won’t be alive for very long.  Apparently, another attack will be coming soon, since the contract is not yet fulfilled.  Finally, he notes that this guild is very expensive to hire, so the culprit behind the attacks is likely from the upper nobility.”  
Tarren turned his face toward Aislynn.  “And this is where you come in, my dear.  When I wrote to your father, I explained to him that I did not want a replacement for Rupert.  Instead, I wanted a guardian for Eryk, and you have apparently been selected for that job.”
“But your majesty—” Collin started.
“I will hear nothing more about it,” Tarren interrupted firmly.  “The decision has been made, and I want Eryk to be protected.  Byron, I guess it turns to you and the slightly more mundane resources of the royal guard to keep me safe.”
“We will do our utmost, as always, Sire.”  Byron looked very disturbed by this turn of events, but knew that there was no point arguing with his king.
While Collin and Byron were looking at Tarren, Tarren’s attention was on Aislynn.  After the way Byron had described her meeting with Eryk earlier that day, he had expected a reaction from her when he made his proclamation.  Instead, she’d said nothing.  In fact, she had a very puzzled look on her face.
“Is there something wrong, Aislynn?” Tarren asked, a little concerned by her expression.
“No,” she said abruptly, shaking her head.  “I think that I’m just tired.  It has been a very long day.”  Aislynn, confused by an odd awareness she suddenly had, felt odd.  She abruptly knew where Eryk was, and what he was feeling.  It was very strange.
“Of course.  Have a good night then,” said Tarren.  “And welcome again to Bacovia.”
Aislynn smiled, and Cheta led the way out of the room.
Once she was gone, Tarren turned toward his most trusted advisors.  “So,” he started, “what do we think of her?”
“I like her,” Byron spoke up quickly.  “She'll be good for Eryk.  She’s not like the timid wall flowers he’s used to.”
“I reserve judgment for now,” said Collin.  “I haven’t seen enough of her to make up my mind.  I’m sure she’s competent, even though it strikes me as somewhat unnatural to have a female in her profession.  I wouldn't have thought that women had the…strength to take a man’s life.  However, I know the reputation of her people, so I have no concerns about Eryk’s safety.”
“I’m curious to see what happens at the Courting Ball,” stated Tarren, with a chuckle.  “Like you said, Byron, she’s very unlike the noble ladies Eryk’s used to.”
When the others left, Tarren picked up Jackob’s letter again.  There was one part of the missive that troubled him.  

It strikes me as odd that Eryk survived.  The Scorpion Guild is highly trained and they don’t often leave their victims standing.  It’s almost as if the attack on him was staged, and very expensively given that the guards killed the “decoy” assassin.  

Tarren had no idea what to make of this statement, but if Jackob was concerned, then something was amiss.  He may not be Tarren’s bodyguard any longer, but that sort of devotion didn't end simply because their roles had changed.  The king knew that it would be an uneasy rest for him tonight.



Chapter 6

In the dimness of the pre-dawn gloom, Byron watched from the doorway as Aislynn warmed up.  He hadn't been sure she would show up, considering the unfortunate greeting he’d given her and the very busy day she’d had yesterday.  He found, to his surprise, that he was genuinely happy to find her waiting for him when he arrived.
Her movements were slow and graceful as Aislynn worked her way through a routine with the quarterstaff she held.  It was obvious that she was well trained, with movement flowing smoothly into stance before flowing smoothly again into movement.  Byron also knew from experience that it was a lot harder to perform weapon routines slowly; it took a lot more muscle strength and control to be able to hold the positions for any length of time.  He wondered how badly she was going to beat him this morning.
“You may as well come out and warm up, Byron.  I know that you’re there.”
“Of course you do,” he chuckled as he strode forward.  “And how is it that you knew it was me and not one of the other guards?  I’m hardly the only one in this building.”
“Cheta.  She would have informed me if there was a scent she didn't recognize.  Since she’s just over there,” Aislynn nodded toward the left-hand wall, “it must be you.”
Byron wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he just changed the subject.
“So quarterstaff today?  I expected something a bit more…deadly given our meeting yesterday.”
“Quarterstaffs are deadly, and you know it,” Aislynn commented.  “Besides, I figured that bruises and broken bones would be a better way to start out, as opposed to the mess that swords can make.  I don’t know you and I don’t know what you’re capable of, and you know nothing about me.  Better safe than sorry. ”  
She chuckled and finished her routine, coming to a stop in the center of the courtyard, quarterstaff extended in front of her, as if to beckon Byron forward.  
Aislynn’s long, brown hair was back in a simple tail at the nape of her neck, and she was dressed in tight-fitting pants with a long, loose blouse gathered at the waist and wrists.  She seemed considerably more comfortable with herself than she had yesterday, and Byron suspected that this was most likely her usual attire.  He also thought to himself that he could get used to seeing her dressed like this – her long shapely legs and tiny waist were enticing.  
Byron gave himself a mental slap and reminded himself that she was far too highly ranked for him.  Though she certainly didn’t act like most of the stuck-up nobility he’d come across in his years at court… 
To cover his momentary discomfort, and shake the slightly disturbing thoughts from his mind, Byron selected a quarterstaff of his own from the collection at the side of the courtyard, hefting it to feel its weight.  He moved into the center of the courtyard and started through a warm-up routine of his own.  He had watched Aislynn and made note of her strength and movements, and it was only fair that she have the same opportunity before they faced off.  This was a friendly contest, after all.
“So who knows what I am?” Aislynn asked as Byron worked through his routine.  “Obviously you, Collin and Tarren.  Is there anybody else?”
“Not officially, no.   Not even Eryk knows, just as he didn't know about Rupert.  I’m certain some of the guards suspected Rupert though.  They would sometimes watch us spar here, and you have to admit that such a highly skilled warrior would make a very unlikely serving man.  I also imagine that when they see you here, they'll know for sure that you are not only what you say you are.  I can’t think of a single nobly born lady in this city who could hold a sword properly, let alone use one.  And there isn't a single one of them who would be caught dead dressed like that.”  
He said this last comment with a grin, but Aislynn didn’t rise to his barb.
“If they do find out, is it likely to cause a problem?  I wouldn't want any of the guards to feel undervalued by having me here.  Would they understand that the pact has nothing to do with how capable they are?”
“I doubt that it will be an issue, and if it ever becomes one, I’m sure that we can sort it out.  I wouldn't worry about it.”  Byron finished his warm-up and moved toward one end of the courtyard, weapon held ready.  Aislynn stepped forward from where she had been waiting, and lifted her weapon into a ready position, mirroring Byron’s stance.
They came together with a crack of wood on wood as Byron attacked, aiming for Aislynn’s head.  It was a predictable move, and she realized that he was testing her, so she blocked predictably, not exerting herself just yet.  Byron pressed his attack, aiming at her stomach and then right shoulder and left knee, but Aislynn's staff blocked each attack easily as it snapped into place.  He sped up, trying to get past her guard, but she simply sped up her defensive movements to compensate.  
Tiring of the game after a little while, Aislynn stepped forward as she blocked Byron’s last attack, this one aimed at her left hip, and she spun around his left side, aiming a strike at his knee as she moved.  He jumped sideways, easily outdistancing her hit, but the jump left him a little unbalanced, and it was Aislynn’s turn to press the attack.  
Her staff moved quickly as she threw shots at Byron’s head, arms and thighs, alternating from left to right, but the predictable pattern of attacks made it easy for Byron to move his staff into position to block.  She was fast though, so he was unable to take back the advantage. 
The sound of wood on wood filled the courtyard as the sun began to rise above the walls of the castle, with Aislynn and Byron spinning around each other trying to find openings that just didn't exist.  Suddenly, Byron changed direction, stepping into Aislynn’s path and causing her to lose her balance as she tried to stumble out of the way of his attack at her ankle.  She avoided the attack, but her unsteady balance caused her to fall backwards, landing with a thud.  
Aislynn wasn’t going to let Byron get a victory so easily though, and her weapon was up defensively before she’d even finished expending her momentum.  She held off his series of attacks as she got her feet under her, grateful now for the hours her Master had made her fight on the ground.
They were both tiring, seemingly evenly matched, and the sun was rising still higher.  Aislynn could feel through her strange new link to Eryk that he was starting to rouse a little and would soon be awake.  Determined to end this combat quickly, Aislynn increased her speed even more.  Her staff was nearly a blur as she blocked Byron’s attacks and made attacks of her own.  
Not to be outdone, Byron stepped up the intensity of his attacks too.  But when Aislynn intercepted each of his strikes with a crack, he moved into a series of quick attacks, alternating left and right, all aimed at her head.  Aislynn blocked them easily, but it was simple for the rhythm of the attacks and defenses to draw her in.  This meant that when Byron suddenly swept his staff down and across at ankle height, she was slightly unprepared.  She felt her legs sweep out from under her, and suddenly she was on the ground for the second time of this encounter.  Unfortunately, her momentum continued to carry her backwards, and her head struck the cobblestones with a resounding crack.
“Ouch.”  
Aislynn lay there a moment, the world taking on a slightly reddish tint. 
“Oh my gods!  Are you okay?”  
Byron was horrified, and he dropped his staff to the ground and rushed over to make sure she wasn’t badly injured.  Aislynn waved him away, and sat up slowly.
“I've had worse,” she said, feeling around the back of her skull.  “Nothing broken, but it feels like I'll have a nasty bump for a few days.”
Byron extended his hand to help her to her feet.  She took it, and he hoisted her up from the ground.  Still a little dizzy, Aislynn stumbled forward and abruptly found herself in Byron’s arms.  She stood there for a few moments looking into his bright blue eyes, with his strong arms around her waist.  
“It looks like you win round one,” she said softly, and then she pushed herself away with a slightly pained smile.
Byron smiled back, happy that she wasn’t badly injured and that she apparently wasn’t going to hold a grudge about being beaten.  
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.
“Definitely.”  Aislynn took a few slow steps, and when her balance remained steady, she picked up the pace, heading for the main courtyard.  
“Have a good day,” she called, and then proceeded back to her rooms to clean up.  She knew that Marja would be awake by now, and she felt Eryk awake too, so Aislynn figured that she’d better hurry.  Cheta came trotting up behind her after a few moments, looking smug.
“What were you up to?  Making friends with the captain?”
Since that was exactly what she’d been doing, Cheta just wagged her tail and kept right on trotting.  She knew that Aislynn’s pride could be a bit touchy and didn't want to add to an already remarkable start to the day.  It had been awhile since Cheta had seen Aislynn beaten.
Back in her rooms, Marja was awake and dressed, just as Aislynn had expected.  She took one look at Aislynn’s disheveled appearance, to say nothing of her clothing, and sniffed disapprovingly.  But she said nothing and set about getting some water for Aislynn to clean up.
“You may as well get used to it, Marja.  I’ll likely be practicing every morning, after all.  You know as well as I do that I need to keep in shape.”
Marja pretended not to hear her as she laid out a dress for Aislynn to wear when she finished washing.  She then laid some hair accessories and jewelry down beside the dress before turning to look at the princess.
“The Courting Ball is in three days.  Anna will be here sometime this afternoon for your first fitting.  I will come and find you when she arrives.”  Marja was apparently going to pretend that Aislynn hadn't just spent the past hour or so being run around a courtyard by a man with a big stick.  “We will also have to discuss your jewelry choices for the big night.  I’m pretty sure that you have nothing that will match the blue that we selected, so we'll likely have to make a trip to a jeweler, tomorrow at the latest.”
Aislynn sighed, and began to dress.  The king expected her to eat her morning and evening meals in the dining hall with him and his family.  That would certainly make it easier to start her day with her protégé, but Aislynn had absolutely no idea what she was going to have to do in order to spend the rest of the day near him.  To say nothing about the fact that she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the day near him.  Her first impression of the prince as self-centered and arrogant hadn’t changed by the end of the previous day, and now she was stuck with him.
Byron had told her that Eryk didn't know who or what she was, and she assumed that there was a reason for that.   That meant she’d likely have to be creative over the next while, at least until something changed and Eryk could find out the truth about her and her role in the Bacovian court.
Marja laced up her dress and helped her with her hair.  Aislynn winced when the brush found the goose egg at the back of her head, but neither of them said anything about it.  Marja then held the door for her with a reminder about that afternoon.  
Aislynn and Cheta led the way down the stairs toward the dining hall, Aislynn’s beacon telling her that Eryk was also on his way, currently heading down the hall above her and to the right.  He seemed thoughtful, and she wondered what he was thinking about and how she could use it to her advantage.  She smiled to herself and entered the dining hall to find Byron already there.
“You most certainly do look different in a dress,” he greeted her with a smile.
“You should be careful what you say in public, or people may get the wrong idea,” she said with a grin as she took a seat, the one that Branden had occupied the night before.  Marja sat down beside her, and Byron sat down opposite.
Eryk entered the dining hall at that moment, followed closely by Durham and Cora.  Davin was nowhere to be seen.  Durham and Cora sat in the same seats as the night before, and after quickly looking at the configuration of the table, Eryk sat next to Byron.  Tarren and Collin entered last, and the servants brought out the food as soon as the king sat down.
Aislynn introduced Marja to everyone, and then the conversation turned toward the subject of the upcoming Courting Ball, a topic that clearly made Eryk uncomfortable.  Waves of discomfort traveled through the link that he and Aislynn shared, though he was unaware of it, making her feel even more ill at ease than she already did.  
It was clear from the animated conversation that the prospect of Eryk finally choosing a bride excited the older gentlemen.  Even Cora, who until now had said nothing, was taking part in the conversation, making comments about some of the ladies who would attend.  One particular lady, Alexius, came up frequently.  It seemed like the assembled group was hoping to nudge Eryk’s choice in her direction.
Finally, the feeling was simply too much, and Aislynn cleared her throat delicately.  
“I’m very sorry to interrupt this fascinating conversation,” she began, “but I am afraid that I must excuse myself.  I have been informed that I need to take a trip into the city today, and I’m anxious to get started.”
“Of course, of course,” agreed Tarren.  “Why don’t you take Aislynn into the city and show her around, Eryk?  It will be good for you to get out of the castle.”
Eryk leaped at the opportunity to get out of this distressing situation and was up and out of his chair in an instant.  
“Certainly,” he said, “I’d be honored to escort the princess around.”  He tucked his chair into the table and left the hall without a backward glance, so eager to be out of the room that he neglected to wait for Aislynn.
After a quick goodbye to Marja, Aislynn and Cheta left the room too.  She was somewhat surprised to see Eryk striding down the hallway ahead of her and called out to him.  Eryk turned toward her.  
“Sorry about that,” he said, but the apology didn’t sound particularly sincere.  “Do you actually need to go into the city, or were you just as desperate to get out of that room as I was?”
Aislynn laughed.  “Sadly, I actually need to go shopping.  I apparently require some jewelry for this Ball of yours.”  She rolled her eyes for emphasis.
“Well let’s get started then,” he replied with a sigh.  “Would you like to walk or would you prefer to ride?”
“Walking is fine.  I’d prefer to actually see the city, if it’s all the same to you.”
They soon left the castle and entered Eaglecrest, followed closely by Cheta and a pair of guards.  The guard from Evendell looked sharp in his uniform of dark blue and silver, and was complemented nicely by the Bacovian guard who walked beside him.  Aislynn was aware of the men following them, but Eryk didn't seem to notice.  He did notice Cheta, however.
“Does that wolf go everywhere with you?” he asked, grasping for a topic of conversation to end the awkward silence that stretched between them.  “I don’t think I've seen you without it, though I'll admit that you haven’t been here very long.”
“Yes, she pretty much goes everywhere with me.  She’s been my companion since I was born.”
“How is that possible?  She certainly doesn't appear to be old and infirm, and she’d have to be if you've had her with you all of your life.”
“Cheta is something called an eesprid.  Nobody knows exactly what they are, but they don’t age like the animals they resemble.  Some of the children in Evendell are marked at birth, so to speak, for positions that will require them to spend a lot of time away from their families and friends.  And the training for these positions is very time consuming.  The eesprid come to these children so that they have a constant companion and a reminder of home.”
As they strolled through a residential district, Aislynn noticed that they were attracting a lot of attention.  Eryk was easily recognizable, and the guard confirmed his identity.  She was an unknown, with a wolf and a guard wearing his own livery trailing behind, so she was obviously important.  In addition, she was female, which apparently had a number of people speculating.  Heads were turning as they passed, and as they moved into the merchant district, the streets became considerably more crowded.
“It looks like you have a number of admirers,” Aislynn commented to Eryk.  “Just look at the glares that I’m getting.”  She laughed.  
Eryk looked around, confused.  He apparently hadn't noticed all of the young ladies looking at him and judging her.
“If looks could kill, I’d be long dead,” she continued.  “These ladies seem to think that you’re quite a catch.”  Her tone made it clear that she did not share their opinion.
“You don’t think I’m worth fighting over?  It looks like more than one of them is willing to take you on,” Eryk laughed.  
“They have no idea what they’d be getting into.”
“With me or with you?”
“Both, I suspect.”  Aislynn looked slyly over at Eryk.  “Besides, what do I need you for?  I have a kingdom of my own, after all.”
“Then why are you even here?” Eryk asked, a little exasperated. 
“To make my father happy, I suppose.  You do what you’re told, you know?”  
“You are so…odd!”  Eryk exclaimed, totally confused by what he was hearing.  He stopped in the street and turned to look at her.  “You are totally unlike anyone I have ever met.  One minute, you’re speaking your mind to me despite regular etiquette for a lady of your station, and the next minute you’re touting obedience to your elders.”
Aislynn just laughed.  In all honesty, she didn't really have a response to his statement.  She knew that she wasn’t a typical noble lady, so she certainly couldn’t disagree with him.
“So tell me about this Alexius girl everyone seems to want you to marry,” she asked, getting them moving once again.
“Well, she’s Branden’s sister, for one, which makes her Lord Collin’s daughter.  She’s well connected, obviously.”
“Do you like her?  Since they don’t do the whole arranged marriage thing here, I've been told, I suspect that your feelings toward her actually matter.”
“I really don’t know.  I've known her forever, so it’s more as if she’s my sister than anything else.  I’m honestly not sure I could ever see her as my wife.”
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, with Eryk leading her from jeweler to jeweler until she found something that she liked.  With her errand complete, they returned to the castle, and Aislynn’s appointment with Anna.
The afternoon passed as slowly as the morning had been fast, with Aislynn playing dress-up doll again for Marja and the seamstress.  She monitored Eryk through the link, noting that he stayed in and around the castle.  That made her feel better, knowing that there were so many guards around him when she couldn't be.  She wondered a little about the protectiveness she was starting to feel toward Eryk, but figured that it was just a side effect of the link that now bound her to him.  Especially since she didn’t like him all that much.  She made a mental note to write to her father and ask him about it.
Dinner that evening passed quickly and uneventfully, and Aislynn was happy to retire early.  She knew that Branden was spending time with Eryk this evening, so he’d likely be safe enough, and she was really starting to feel the aches and pains from her morning workout with Byron.  So she had Marja pour her a nice, hot bath, and soaked away some of her pains before bed.



Chapter 7

When dawn came on the morning of the Courting Ball, the newborn sun found Aislynn hard at work sparring with Byron, as had become her habit these past few days.  Today they were fighting with their preferred blades, Byron with a long sword and Aislynn with a short sword and dagger.
The ring of metal on metal had drawn attention in a way very unlike the sound of wood on wood, and a small crowd of guards had gathered to watch.  Byron had been expecting this to happen eventually, and he and Aislynn had discussed the likelihood of it with Tarren just the day before.  They decided to answer any questions truthfully, for the most part, explaining that weapon training was a part of the royal upbringing in Evendell.  If anyone made the connection to Rupert, the fact that he had been Aislynn’s cousin would explain his prowess too.
They were nearly finished for the morning, their movements starting to slow with fatigue.  It looked like today would end in another draw, as had their practice sessions yesterday and the day before that, but then Byron suddenly forged ahead, trying to slip past Aislynn’s guard.  She was ready for him this time though, determined not to repeat her mistake of the first day.  
Aislynn danced aside, her weapons crossing to block Byron’s descending sword stroke.  She pushed her blades up and apart, throwing Byron’s blade out to the side and following through with a thrust of her dagger.  Byron froze, feeling the tip of the blade against his chest.
“I guess we’re tied now,” he commented to a smattering of applause from the group watching the exchange.  They would be intolerable later, he knew, having watched their captain beaten by a nobly born lady.
“Yes, but I got the audience and you’re the only one who got to see me knocked flat on my back – twice.”  Aislynn winked, sheathed her blades and wiped her sleeve across her sweaty brow.
“Well, I wasn’t able to go full out,” he claimed, grinning himself.  “It wouldn't do to send you to the Ball tonight all covered in nicks and scratches.”
“Hah!  You keep telling yourself that.  I'll see you at breakfast.”  With that, Aislynn excused herself, nodding to some of the guardsmen as she passed them, Cheta right on her heels.  Byron was left to face his comrades-in-arms alone.


 “She is just so strange, Branden.  You really should spend some time with her, and then you’d see what I mean.  I do think that you’d like her.”  Eryk danced around the ring, trying to score a hit on Branden while not getting hit himself.  
“The past few days have been really great.  When I spend time with her, it keeps the other girls away; they seem intimidated by her for some reason,” he explained, grinning.  Eryk was not going to admit that he was attracted to Aislynn.  When he was with her, he found himself wanting to sweep her into his arms and kiss her.  She made him feel…  He couldn’t quite describe how she made him feel, but he liked it.
“I prefer her friend, personally.  A beautiful, quiet lady,” Branden commented.  “And the other women likely have a reason for their feelings toward the princess.  I’m pretty sure that she isn't what she seems to be.  But it is nice to see you not arguing with your father, at least.”  
Branden tried to be happy that his friend had found another companion to spend time with, but he wished that Eryk would spend more time with Alexius and less with Aislynn.  He stabbed his blade straight ahead, an attack that should have been easy for Eryk to block, but he scored a direct hit.  Branden rolled his eyes at the further demonstration of Eryk’s total lack of prowess as a swordsman.  
“So have you decided what you are going to wear to the Ball tonight?  I recommend very comfortable footwear,” Branden commented with a smirk.
Eryk grimaced, expressing his distaste for both the hit and for the upcoming event.  His father expected him to dance with each and every lady in attendance at the Ball at least once.  It promised to be a very long night for him, between the dancing, the inane chatter, and watching the women all jockeying for position, staring each other down, and generally being nasty to one another when they thought he wasn’t looking.  He was dreading the entire event.
“Well at least I get to torture you too, my dear friend.  I can’t have all of those ladies just standing around waiting to dance with me, after all.  The noble brothers of all those ladies get to help keep them entertained.  So, have you decided what you’re going to wear?”  
The two young men continued to joke amongst themselves as they put away their practice gear and went upstairs to clean up before breakfast.  
Branden sighed when he saw Eryk’s face light up a short while later as they entered the dining hall; Aislynn was already there.  Ever since his conversation with his father a few days ago, Branden couldn't stop thinking about everything that bothered him about her.  She made him very uneasy.
“Well good morning, gentlemen,” Aislynn greeted the two men.  “All ready for tonight’s big event?”
“Not you too,” Eryk groaned.  
Branden rolled his eyes, and turned toward Aislynn.  “He’s afraid of commitment, you know,” he commented.
Aislynn laughed and took her seat at the table.  Today she was sitting beside Byron, he noted.  The princess and the captain really seemed to get along, and for some reason that bothered Branden too.  Maybe because they were so alike, far too much alike for a proper nobly born lady.  Eryk was right; she was strange, but Branden knew that Eryk didn’t know the half of it.
When his father entered the room, Branden noticed that he wasn’t with Tarren, as was his usual custom.  In fact, Tarren was conspicuous in his absence, as were Durham and Cora.  It looked like it would be a small gathering for breakfast this morning, Collin indicating to the servants that they could bring in the food.  It seemed that Tarren wasn’t going to be joining them at all.  Branden wondered if there were details of tonight’s Ball that were keeping him busy.  The council should technically take care of all of those minor things, but the king liked to be involved, especially when it was something concerning his son.  
Branden was too involved himself, in his personal opinion, but his father had insisted on passing along some of his duties as chief advisor so that Branden would be prepared to take over that role when Eryk assumed the throne.  He wasn’t particularly looking forward to that day.  Like Eryk, he wasn’t ready to settle down.
After breakfast, which passed quickly, Aislynn and Byron excused themselves.  On the way back to the stairs leading up to her rooms, she stopped Byron with a light touch on his arm.
“What sort of arrangements have you made for the Ball tonight?” she asked quietly as he turned to face her.  
“The usual,” he replied.  “There will be two pairs of guards at the entrance to the castle, and an even dozen in the ballroom itself, stationed around the room at equal intervals.  Why?”
“Well, if my father is correct, we should be seeing another assassination attempt soon.  I can do my best to keep close to Eryk, but it will be difficult due to the arrangements for the dancing and introductions.  Tarren isn't particularly protected at all, so tonight would make an excellent time for an assassin to attempt something.”
“Do you think that I should increase the guards?”
She shook her head.  “No, not in the ballroom.  If things are too unusual, it could cause problems with the guests.  You don’t want to panic them; crowds can be especially dangerous when panicked.  You may want to have some extra guards in and around the lower halls though, so that they could be summoned quickly if necessary.”
“That’s not a bad idea.  I'll go and make the arrangements, and I'll see you tonight.”
Aislynn nodded, with a sigh.  It was just after breakfast and Byron was exactly right.  If Marja had her way, and she usually did in cases like these, Aislynn was about to be trapped in her rooms for the rest of the day in order to get ready for tonight.  She walked up the stairs like a prisoner walking to the gallows.
Marja was in her element for the entire day.  Aislynn was happy enough to start with a bath, even if the water did smell entirely too flowery for her taste.  The bath water was hot and she was hoping that a nice soak would ease some of the tension she was feeling, but it didn't help.  She did take advantage of the opportunity to give Cheta a bath though, which the wolf did not appreciate.  However, everyone who saw her afterwards had to admit that she looked less frightening when she was well groomed.
After her bath, Aislynn dressed in the new shift that she'd purchased for the occasion.  It was comfortable enough, and she had to admit that it was rather luxurious to be lounging around all day being primped and pampered.  Marja spent a lot of time on Aislynn’s hair, delicately twisting stands of hair into curls and then pinning them up on her head.  She was determined that Aislynn be stunning for this event, regardless of Aislynn’s opinion on the matter.  The princess had a part to play and it was Marja’s job to make sure that she played it well.
After her hair was finished, Aislynn was permitted a light lunch, which Marja had a servant bring up to the room.  While Aislynn ate, Marja attended to her own preparations, and then it was time for Aislynn’s cosmetics, which seemed to take forever.  By now, Aislynn was getting twitchy from having to sit still for so long.  She really wanted all of this preparation to be over!
Finally, it was time to dress.  The periwinkle blue dress that Anna dropped off was stunning.  The sleeves were short and sat low, showing off Aislynn’s shoulders.  There was gathering around the bodice, giving it a ruffled appearance, and the skirt was constructed of numerous incredibly fine layers of fabric that created a full appearance without the weight.  Once she was dressed, Aislynn found that she retained her freedom of movement, which had been her primary concern with the whole ball gown thing.  Aislynn was very happy with the work that Anna had done, and definitely wanted her to come back and alter the rest of her dresses, just as Marja wanted.  
Nearly finished, Aislynn then donned the finishing touches – the necklace, bracelet and hair combs that she and Eryk had picked out on that initial shopping trip into the city.  They were made of yellow gold and bejeweled with dark sapphires, a perfect complement to the pale blue gown.
Throughout the morning and early afternoon, Aislynn had felt Eryk wandering the castle, apparently with energy to spare.  Byron must have noticed too, since she felt Eryk stop in the area of the barracks a little while before lunch, where he remained for a time.  When she felt him return to his rooms to get ready, feeling content and a little tired, she knew that it was almost time to leave.  The Ball would be starting soon.



Chapter 8

Eryk wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but he was nervous.  He didn't like the thought of being pawed at and fought over one little bit.  He was the one who should be doing the pawing, shouldn’t he?  Until now, he’d had his pick of the ladies, but with a marriage on the line, he’d had to be very careful where he directed his attentions.  Honestly, he knew that his time for arguing was over, and he had to make a decision soon.  He hoped that one of these ladies stood out as tolerable, at least.
Byron had managed to get him into the training yard to work off some of the nervous energy he was producing, and Eryk was actually grateful for that.  He’d spent some time practicing with staff and sword, which he desperately needed, and then tried a little archery, which went a lot better.  By the time Byron kicked him out of the barracks, he had expended most of his excess energy and was ready to dress and prepare for what could potentially be one of the most important nights of his life.
Branden was already waiting for him when he arrived back at his suite to clean himself up.  He had obviously bathed, since his hair was still damp, and he was already dressed in his finery.  Branden wore a dark gray shirt with black pants, which set off his blond hair and blue eyes very nicely.  
“What took you so long, slowpoke?” Branden greeted Eryk as the prince entered his rooms.
“I was down in the barracks, exercising a little more.  I had some time to kill.”
Eryk started to wash up and dress.  He would be wearing black pants also, but his shirt was a beige silk, meant to set off his black hair and bright eyes.  He dressed carefully, not wanting anything to be out of place.  He figured that if everyone was going to be judging him and fighting over him, he might as well look his best.
When they were both ready, the gentlemen set off for the ballroom.  The immense room had columns down both sides, and in front of each column stood a guard, each of them dressed in a crisp, clean dress uniform.  There was a buffet table along the right wall, stocked with snacks and drinks for the guests.  Along the left were a number of chairs and benches for the guests to rest on when they weren’t dancing, and beyond them were the doors leading out into the gardens.  The musicians were tuning their instruments and warming up next to the dais at the far end of the room, and Tarren was already in place on his throne, ready to preside over the event.
Eryk and Branden took their places at the foot of the dais, and Eryk indicated to the herald at the door that they were ready to begin.


When the time finally arrived, Aislynn found that she was actually a little nervous.  All of the young ladies of the court had been publicly discussing this event for a number of weeks.  It had likely been much longer in private, she knew.  
Eryk was nervous too, and Aislynn felt oddly comforted by that fact.  She could feel his anxiety as he took his place in the ballroom and awaited the announcement of the first of the ladies.  As far as he was concerned, the sooner this started, the sooner it was all over.  She couldn’t agree more, though she’d never admit it to Marja, who was really looking forward to the Ball.  
The ladies arrived in chattering groups of twos and threes, all prepared to try to make an impression on the prince that they hoped would choose them for his bride.  Their fathers and brothers accompanied them, and the men were all equally eager for the women in their family to impress Eryk.  
There were about a dozen noble ladies attending, so the herald took awhile to announce everyone.  Aislynn was the last, having the highest rank, with “the Lady Marja, of Evendell” preceding her and looking fabulous in her emerald green gown.  
“Her Royal Highness, the Princess Aislynn of Evendell,” the herald finally announced.  
Every eye was on her as she entered the room, her identity formally revealed.  People had been seeing her around court and city these past few days, but nobody had ever inquired about her identity within her hearing.  It was rather fun to watch the ladies absorb the information, realizing that she was that extra step above them, royalty as opposed to nobility.  She actually felt a bit sorry for them, understanding how nervous it must make them, thinking that they had to compete against her.  She knew they had nothing to worry about, but they didn't.  
The music started, the Ball beginning, as she moved into the room.  She wanted to explore the area before she did anything else, so she and Cheta cut through the crowd, which parted easily, with everyone taking a step back from the “dangerous” animal keeping her company.  Aislynn smiled to herself, finding their reactions funny.  Everyone at home was used to the eesprid, but despite the fact that Cheta had done nothing to anyone or anything since her arrival, the people here remained nervous.
As she circled the room, she nodded to the guards she recognized, noting their positions.  Aislynn also took note of the exits, doors and large windows, just in case a hasty departure was required.  There were no balconies in this room, which was excellent because it reduced the number of places to hide.  She knew that Byron had checked the room thoroughly before allowing anyone in, so it should be safe.  Finally, she approached Tarren on the small dais.
“Everything looks good, your Majesty.  I can’t think of any way to make this event any safer than it is.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” he responded, distracted by the spectacle below.  He was watching Eryk dance and chat with one of the ladies.  Aislynn couldn't remember her name, but she was talking continuously while she danced, and she was dancing badly, constantly tripping over her own feet and causing Eryk to stumble.  Aislynn was sure that she wouldn't be getting a second dance.  Many of the other girls were also dancing, but they all watched Eryk and his partner, envious.  Aislynn chuckled.
“So is Eryk expected to choose one of these ladies tonight?” she asked with genuine curiosity.  This custom intrigued her.  Arranged marriages were still the tradition in Evendell.  She was exempted from the custom because of her profession, but her older sister had gone to an arranged marriage in order to cement a treaty agreement.
“Not exactly, no,” Collin replied as he came up on to the dais to take his position beside the throne.  “The ladies here tonight are declaring themselves as eligible, and in an ideal world, Eryk would choose one immediately.  We all know that Eryk will do no such thing, however.  So the intention is to introduce everyone and have Eryk make a decision by Midsummer.”
Aislynn knew very well that Eryk was not happy with all of this.  He hadn't said anything directly during their conversations, but he hadn't needed to.  She guessed that if he had his way, he’d be making the choice on Midsummer’s Day, having held out as long as possible.  That would be just less than three weeks away.
Leaving Cheta on the dais, Aislynn moved down on to the dance floor just as the music was ending.  She walked up to Eryk, cutting smoothly in front of the lady who had been about to approach him for a dance.  
“Looks like you could use a partner who’s not as likely to step on your feet,” Aislynn said with a smile.  “Need a bit of a break?”
Eryk smiled back, and took her hand.  
“Thank you,” he said.  “That last one was rather painful, in more ways than one.  She nattered on about the weather, of all things, for the entire dance!  It’s not a very promising start to the evening, that’s for sure. ”  
Eryk was glad that he was able to dance so closely with Aislynn.  She was light on her feet and followed his lead without difficulty.  Being so close meant that he finally got to hold her in his arms, and it also prevented him from making embarrassing mistakes like looking anywhere but her face.  They danced for the rest of the piece, and then Aislynn spun away to leave him to his next partner.
She found herself face to face with Branden, and he did not appear particularly happy to see her.  Taking her hand, he spun her out on to the dance floor once more.
“What, exactly, are your intentions here?” he asked her, his face serious, as he led her expertly through the steps of the dance.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”  
The line of questioning confused Aislynn.  She was certain that everyone had a good idea of what her intentions should be.  
“You don’t seem to be any more eager to marry than Eryk does, so what are you doing here?  Do you intend to try to win him for yourself?”
She opted for the mostly truthful response.  “I was sent here by my father.  It is customary to do that, after all.  Eryk’s decision is his alone, and I really don’t have a lot to say about the matter.”
“I know that he likes you,” Branden said, grimacing as he admitted that truth.  “He basically said as much this morning.  He wants me to spend time with you, to get to know you.  He’s been spending a lot of time with you too, these past few days.”
“Does that worry you?  I know that you are his best friend–”
“I’m more than that,” he interrupted.  “I will be his chief advisor when he takes the throne.  And before you, everything seemed to be wrapped up neat and tidy.”
“Really?  Well I’m so sorry to have put a kink in your ‘neat and tidy’ plans.”  Aislynn was starting to get angry now.  Branden’s tone was taking on an edge that was nearly threatening, and she didn't appreciate that at all.
“I want you to leave.  I want you to go back home to Evendell, and never return.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that isn't going to happen.  Regardless of the outcome of this Ball, you’re going to have to get used to having me around.”
As the music ended, Branden spun her one last time.  
“We'll see about that,” he promised.  “Eryk will be marrying Alexius, and when I’m his advisor, I'll make sure that you are gone.”  He spun her away and stalked off into the crowd.  
Disconcerted by the conversation, Aislynn moved over to the side of the room to think.  She certainly didn't like being threatened, but there wasn’t a lot to do about it right now, so she decided to try and not to let it bother her.  The idea that Eryk liked her and considered her a likely candidate for marriage did concern her and that concern was considerably more immediate.  She moved back into the crowd, surveying the area as she walked around, and tried not think about what life would be like with a man who still thought the world revolved around him.
The pattern she had set repeated itself over and over as the night wore on.  She’d spend time moving around in the crowd of people, looking here and there and keeping alert for anything or anyone suspicious.  Whenever she would feel Eryk’s anxiety building, she would dance with him for the next dance and then spin off into the crowd.  Every time she did that, she’d find Branden glaring at her from somewhere in the room.  She wasn’t sure why she kept dancing with the prince, but something about easing Eryk’s discomfort made it worthwhile to deal with Branden’s threatening attitude.
During their last dance, something caught Eryk’s eye.  She had her right hand on his shoulder and he clasped her left hand in his as they danced.  He was staring at her wrist.
“When did you have this done?”  he asked, indicating her eagle-shaped birthmark.
“Oh, I've had that forever,” she replied, trying to play it down.
He looked puzzled, as if trying to figure something out, but left the topic and moved on to something else.  “So are you having any fun?” he asked.
Aislynn smiled.  “Is that what you call this?  Fun?  I guess it’s not so bad, but Branden really doesn't like me.  He’s spent all night glaring at me, except when he was threatening me.” 
“Excuse me?  He did what?  Branden wouldn't do that.”  
“Oh no?  He’s bent and determined that you’re going to marry his sister, and seems to think that I’m a threat to that little plan.”
Eryk had no idea how to respond to her accusations.  He figured that it was possible, even likely, that Branden felt very strongly about Alexius, but Aislynn’s description of his behavior was so unlike him.  Besides, Eryk knew that he had no desire to indicate his interest in Aislynn quite yet, so instead of answering her, he just kept silent.
Finally, the evening was over and the guests were leaving.  Aside from Aislynn, Eryk had spent the most time with Alexius, which seemed to please everyone except the other ladies in attendance.  She seemed to be the clear winner to Aislynn, but Alexius didn't seem to see it that way, glaring at the princess as she stalked out of the room at the end of the night.  
Aislynn sighed.  Some people just didn't like her, and Alexius had that particular emotion in spades, it seemed.  Maybe she got the idea to hate Aislynn from her brother, or perhaps Alexius’ hatred had rubbed off on Branden instead.  Either way, it was apparent that she should avoid the whole family for the near future.  Aislynn said goodnight to Eryk and Byron and retired to her rooms.


“You did well tonight, Alexius.”  Collin was guiding her to their carriage, preparing to send her home.  
Alexius was petulant.  “He spent a lot of time with that princess, though.  You know, the girl from Evendell.  He really seems to like her.”  Alexius shook her head, sending her blond curls tumbling around her shoulders.  She looked a lot like her brother.
“You don’t have to worry about her.  She’s not his type.  I'll make sure that she’s not going to be a problem.”
Her father’s tone of voice reassured Alexius.  He seemed so sure that Eryk would choose her.  She also knew that Branden had a lot of influence on Eryk, and he was pulling for her too.  But it would be a long three weeks, waiting for Eryk’s official decision.  
Collin shut the door to the carriage and hurried back into the castle just as a warm summer rain started to fall.  He liked the rain; it had a way of washing everything clean.


It was starting to rain, the light summer drops tapping against the windows as Tarren tried to settle in for the night.  It was hard to relax though, with so much on his mind.  He’d watched the Ball and he’d watched Eryk closely.  Eryk had done his duty, danced with all of the ladies and made small talk.  But the only one who had made Eryk smile, the only one he’d wanted to be with, was Aislynn.  That could make all of this very, very complicated.
Tarren had spoken with Collin before they had both retired for the night, and he knew that Collin really wanted Eryk to choose Alexius.  Admittedly, that would make things considerably less confusing and difficult, but Tarren wasn’t convinced that Eryk would be happy with that decision.  He really did want his son to be happy.  
Collin was sure that Eryk would come to love Alexius in time and that he’d be happy with her.  He wanted to send Aislynn away, to be sure that there wouldn't be a problem.  He was concerned about a “conflict of interest” if Eryk chose Aislynn, but Tarren knew that the pact prevented Aislynn from going anywhere, regardless of Eryk’s choice.  Besides, how could there be a conflict of interest when both bodyguard and queen would want the king to remain safe?
It was a lot to think about, but Tarren was tired, and he eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.



Chapter 9

The rain continued to fall through the night, and the dawn found Aislynn and Byron inside the barracks practice arena, throwing daggers at targets.  Neither of them wanted to get soaked just to practice, so they had decided on some inside “games” for today’s exercise.  The current game was to throw five daggers as quickly as possible, with each of them scoring points for speed as well as accuracy.  Aislynn was definitely better than Byron was at this game, since he’d never really had any opportunity to perfect the skill; he was definitely a melee fighter, not a ranged one.
The two of them had also opted for target practice this morning due to the late night before.  The lack of sleep had the effect of making their reflexes a touch slower than usual, so it was considerably more likely that one of them could get hurt accidentally.  The sparring matches were just for practice, some friendly competition, so indoors was definitely the best option.
The guardsmen in attendance were having a lot of fun themselves, suggesting games to play and making bets on the outcome of the matches.  The odds were considerably in Aislynn’s favor, which did nothing to improve Byron’s mood this morning.  He decided that tomorrow would be sword and shield practice, something that Aislynn would have minimal training in, if any at all.  He had to even the score again, or his fellows would be impossible to live with!
Cheta decided that she wanted to join in the fun too, jumping up to catch Byron’s dagger by the handle just before it could hit the target.
“Hey!  That’s cheating!” he yelled.  
“Well I didn't tell her to do it,” Aislynn replied with a smirk.  She’d found it funny.  She tossed another knife in Cheta’s direction, the dagger spinning blade over handle through the air.  Cheta dropped Byron’s dagger and leaped into the air, grabbing Aislynn’s knife easily and dropping back to the ground.
“Happy now?  She has one of yours and one of mine.  She’s got a good idea though…”
“Oh yeah?  What’s that?”
“How about you throw a dagger and I'll try to knock it out of the air with mine.  Then you can try to do the same.”
It sounded a bit complicated and difficult to Byron, but he figured he might as well give it a try.  He was sure he couldn't be humiliated any more than he had been already.  Byron took aim at the target and let fly.
Clang.  Aislynn’s dagger hit his near the tip, sending it veering off to the side, missing the target completely.  Her next dagger was already in the air, spinning toward the target.  
Clang.  Byron’s dagger hit hers too, but he’d been slower off the mark, so the dagger veered off center, but still bit into the edge of the target, scoring points for Aislynn.  He tossed his next dagger, which hit the target dead center.  
Triumphantly, he turned toward Aislynn to gloat a little, but the words caught in his throat.  The look on her face was horrifying.  She stared off into the distance, wide-eyed and pale as the color totally drained away from her face, turning it an unhealthy shade of gray.  Her brown eyes were flat and lifeless.
“What is it?  What’s wrong?”  Byron walked quickly toward her, seriously concerned.
Cheta whined, and nudged at Aislynn's hand, but she didn't move.  It was as if she’d suddenly died and stood there, frozen in time, unable to fall.  Byron would have thought her dead if it wasn’t for the fact that he could see her breathing shallowly.
Just as Byron was about to yell for a healer, Aislynn blinked and drew in a shuddering breath.  
“We have to go, right now,” she said in a quiet voice.  “Something is horribly, horribly wrong.”  
Aislynn couldn't describe the anguish she’d just felt rolling down the link she shared with Eryk.  He’d been sleeping and then suddenly he’d been awake.  An instant later, this horrible pain came out of nowhere.  It was literally too painful for words.  
Just then, a guard came stumbling into the room, skidding to a halt in front of them.  
“Captain,” he gasped, “you are summoned immediately, both of you.”  He looked like he was about to faint.  “You must go to the king’s chambers.”
It all settled into place with those words.  The sudden awakening, then the pain that had followed.  
“The king’s dead,” Aislynn said, just a little louder than a whisper.  Byron’s gaze flicked toward her, stunned.  The guard just nodded confirmation, not knowing what to say.
“Send someone to wake Eryk,” Byron ordered one of the guards as he started toward the door.
“Don't bother,” Aislynn interjected as she followed him.  “He already knows.”
They set off at a run, streaking through the downpour and into the castle.  This early in the morning, there weren't too many people around, so they made it to the stairs without seeing anyone or having to stop and explain their rush.  Taking the staircase two steps at a time, they rushed to the king’s rooms, finding two pale and shocked guards on duty outside the door.  Byron just glared at them as they crossed the threshold; he’d deal with them later.
Eryk was already there, and so were Collin and Branden, which really surprised her.  She wondered what Branden was doing here, or why he was even awake at this time of day.  The chief healer was just arriving as they entered, and he moved immediately through the reception room and into the adjoining bedroom.  Aislynn and Byron followed him in, along with the others, and they all stood silently, waiting for the official verdict.  They didn't need to wait for too long.
“It appears that he died in his sleep a few hours ago, based on the rigidity of the muscles.  It looks like his heart may have failed, but I don’t believe that it was a natural occurrence.”  The healer, Michael, looked up from the body.
“Why not?  We all know that Tarren wasn’t particularly old, but he hasn't been as healthy or as active as he used to be.  Heart failure seems feasible to me.”  Collin looked distraught, standing there beside the body of his closest friend.
“There is a mark on the side of his neck,” the healer explained.  “It looks like it could be from a dart of some kind.  I believe that the king was murdered, killed with a poisonous dart, or something similar, while he slept.”
Collin glanced at Byron, and at Aislynn, before turning back to Michael.  
“Are you sure?” he asked.  He was obviously making a comparison between this attack and the previous one on Tarren.  There had been darts involved then too.
“No, I can’t be totally certain, but it seems like the most logical conclusion given the evidence presented here before me.  The mark on the neck is not natural, not a bug bite or the like, and the inflammation in the tissues surrounding the mark indicates a poison or venom of some kind.”
Eryk spoke for the first time, moving over to the side of the bed.  “Did he feel any pain?”  He had argued so much with his father over these past weeks, and he couldn't remember the last time they had been able to spend time together happily.  Aislynn felt regret from him now, mixed with the sadness and pain.
“No, your Majesty,” Michael replied.  “He died in his sleep, as I said.”
“Your Majesty,” Eryk muttered, repeating the royal title that the healer had used.  He looked up, glancing over to Collin.  “Well, if that’s it then, there’s only one thing left to do right now.  We'll get to the bottom of this, find out who's responsible, I promise.  Lord Collin, you are required to perform your last act as chief advisor to the king.  Please go ring the bells.”  
Eryk turned away, shoulders shaking as he began to cry.  Aislynn ached with the need to comfort him, but Branden moved over to console him before she could take a single step, throwing a glare over his shoulder as he passed her.  She was obviously unwelcome.  
The healer pulled a sheet up and over Tarren’s cold body, and Collin bowed, unnoticed, before leaving the room.  Byron followed him, anger burning in his eyes, to go and question the guards who had been on duty throughout the night.
Aislynn just stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do, as the sound of bells rang out over the city, breaking the silence of the early morning.  The king was dead.  


Far away, in the kingdom of Evendell, Jackob suddenly awoke from a deep sleep, gasping and pulling himself upright in the bed.
“No,” he moaned quietly, not wanting to wake his queen.  It was too late, however.  She was a light sleeper, and Jackob’s sudden movement had awakened her.
“What’s wrong?”  Even only half-awake and tousled from sleep, Natasha was a pretty woman with long brown curls falling in natural ringlets around her shoulders and her bright blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight coming through the window.  The moon was starting to set, morning a few hours away.
“It’s Tarren.  He’s gone.”  
After all these years apart, Jackob had figured that the link would have faded more than this, but apparently, he’d been wrong.  He hadn't been able to sense Tarren’s feelings since shortly after he’d left his position as the Bacovian king’s bodyguard, but the link had apparently remained, unbroken by time or distance.  Jackob had felt Tarren die.
Natasha gasped.  “Does that mean…?”  Her voice trailed off, not wanting to complete the thought, not wanting to admit that her youngest child could be dead.
“No.  Aislynn wasn’t assigned to Tarren.  She’s guarding Eryk, who is king now, I suppose.  Tarren wanted him protected, so that’s what we did.”
Natasha looked a little relieved by that revelation, but now that she was fully awake, her thoughts were running quickly though her head.  
“So let me get this straight,” she said.  “Tarren wanted Eryk protected, so we sent Aislynn to protect him.  That left Tarren unguarded, despite the fact that the pact is to protect the monarch, and now Tarren’s dead.  Don’t you think that this could cause just a few problems?”
“It was Tarren’s request, and one that he had the right to make.  The magic binding the kingdoms didn't seem to have any problems with it either.  Aislynn was selected, not someone who would have been more suitable for Tarren.  And I expect that the bond is firmly in place by now as well, linking Aislynn to Eryk.”
“Aislynn has been there for only five days.  Five!  That is going to have to raise some suspicions.  I mean, anyone who knows what she is could easily assume that she had something to do with this.  A new assassin comes into town, hooks up with the prince, and a few days later the king’s dead.” 
“That’s ridiculous.  There was an attack on both Tarren and Eryk before she even got there.  How would anyone make that leap?”  Jackob was sure that Natasha was simply jumping at shadows.
“But those assassins were both killed, weren't they?  What if they think that Aislynn was the next assassin sent to complete the contract?”
“Then I'll just have to explain it to them, won’t I?”  Jackob was getting frustrated now, though he knew that his wife was only trying to point out the other side of the argument so that they would be prepared if the accusations started to fly.  He rose from the bed.  “I guess I had better pack.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”  Natasha already knew where he thought he was going, but it was better if he said it himself before she started arguing with him.
“I have to go to Bacovia,” he replied, “and you know it too, so don’t bother starting an argument.  Aislynn could be in a lot of trouble, and even if she isn't, I should be there for the funeral.  The political ties between our kingdoms are important, to say nothing of the fact that he was my friend.”
While he was speaking, Jackob got dressed quickly and starting throwing things into a pair of saddlebags.  Natasha rose gracefully from the bed herself, and started folding Jackob’s clothing properly.  She put her hand over his to prevent him from flinging further articles into the bags.  
“I'll help you pack,” she said soothingly.  “You go and take care of what you need to before you leave, and I'll get this finished here.”
Jackob smiled a sad smile and leaned down to kiss his queen on the forehead.  “Thank you, my love.”  And he left the room without a backwards glance.
Natasha sighed as she packed her husband’s belongings, making sure to pack something particularly formal for his arrival, and something black for the funeral.  She hated running the kingdom without him, but she would do what she had to.  She knew that it was more important for him to be in Bacovia than here, even if she didn't particularly like it.  She sighed and continued her packing.
The bells ringing across the city woke him from a deep and dreamless sleep.  He rolled over, confused by the sound in his sleepy state, and his cheek encountered something cold.  He sat up quickly, heart pounding in his chest, and reached down gingerly to see what it was.  When his hand encountered the object, he picked it up and smiled.  In his hand lay a small coin, smooth and cold, inscribed with a black scorpion.  He was so close now; two down and only one victim remaining until he finally attained his goal.
It didn't occur to him until later to wonder about a man who could sneak into his guarded room while he slept and leave this token on his pillow.  A shudder ran down his spine when he thought of how close to death he could have been.  
Eryk didn't stand a chance.



Chapter 10

Aislynn shook herself, and turned to follow Byron out of the king’s suite, thinking that at least she could help him with the guards who had been on duty throughout the night.  She had to figure out what was happening here, for Eryk’s sake.  She could feel the determination underlying his grief, and she knew that he would do whatever it took to find out who had killed his father.  Even if she weren’t so swayed by his feelings, she would have had to help him.  It was the right thing to do.
She heard Byron before she saw him.  He had taken the pair of guards down the hall to an empty room, leaving a new shift in their place, and he was screaming at them.  Perhaps I’ll end up helping the guards with Byron, instead of the other way around, Aislynn thought to herself as she hurried down the corridor.
“How is this possible?  How could it be possible that you dolts didn't see or hear anything?”  Byron's face was red from the exertion of yelling at the two unfortunate guards, and he was pacing in front of them, glaring as he stalked back and forth.
Aislynn came up behind Byron, and touched him gently on the arm, causing him to jump.  He spun to face her, mouth open to say something, but he stopped short when he saw who was standing there.  Even in the midst of his anger, he wouldn’t yell at her.
“It's very possible, Byron,” she said softly.  “If the same group of assassins is responsible for this, the assassin who killed Tarren is highly trained, and likely very experienced.  Learning to move silently isn't that hard.  It just takes practice.  And if Tarren was asleep, like the healer claims, then there likely wasn't anything for the guards to hear.”  
As he listened to her, Byron began to calm a little, and the guards threw Aislynn a grateful look.  They felt ashamed, knowing that this had happened on their watch, and hearing that it may not have been their fault brought them some relief from the guilt.
“Well they should have checked his room,” Byron said, unwilling to let it go that easily.  “If they had checked it properly, like they were supposed to, there wouldn't have been an assassin there to kill him.”  His voice was starting to pick up volume again.  “They were negligent, and they had to have missed something.”
“Again, that's likely not true,” Aislynn said, still projecting calm as best she could.  “It is most likely that the assassin entered the room after Tarren had fallen asleep.  It is much easier to come at your victim when they are defenseless than it is to stay still and hidden for who knows how long.  Tarren didn't keep a predictable schedule, and the Ball threw what little schedule he did have out the window.”
“Not possible!” Byron interrupted.  “Even these idiots would have seen someone walking right past them to enter the room.”  Aislynn could see that Byron needed to blame someone for this, and it was going to take a lot of convincing to get him to stop haranguing the guards.
“The assassin didn't enter the room via the door, Byron.  He used the window.”  
Aislynn was certain of this.  She had looked out of her own window many times, and it was located on the opposite side of the courtyard, so she had shared the view with Tarren.  She knew that an experienced climber wouldn't have had a lot of difficulty scaling the wall up to his window.  The guards were well trained, Byron saw to that, and they wouldn't have missed the assassin if they had checked the room as they claimed to have done.  Aislynn had no reason to doubt that the guards were telling the truth, and she wished Byron could see it too.
“The window?  It's a twenty-foot drop to the courtyard, and there are guards stationed in the courtyard as well as on the walls.  He would have been seen.”
“Not likely.  It was raining all night, remember?”
“Fine, then.  It was raining, so the guards may not have paid as much attention as they should have.  But the rain would have hampered the assassin climbing the wall too.”  Byron sounded a little less certain of this statement, as if he was starting to see that maybe the guards weren't to blame.  Aislynn just needed to give him the proof he needed, just that last little push.
“It wouldn't be that hard.  I could do it,” Aislynn said.  “I'll do it right now.”  
She turned and left the room, with Byron and the guards following, astounded by her claim.  
“You meet me in the king's room,” Aislynn called over her shoulder as she darted down the hall, heading downstairs and outside into the rain-soaked courtyard.
Byron shook his head, wondering if he should get a healer so that one would be waiting if she fell, and he moved back down the hall and into the king's room, nodding distractedly to the new guards on duty.  Eryk and Branden were still in the room, but Byron didn't think that would be an issue.  Even though they didn't know about Aislynn yet, he would need to brief them both anyway.  The other guards followed along silently, not dismissed, and not wanting to miss this.  This could be the proof needed to vindicate them in their captain’s eyes.
Eryk and Branden glanced Byron’s way when the captain walked past, his presence interrupting their quiet conversation.  Byron made for the window, and confused, they followed him to see what was happening.  Eryk knew Byron well enough to know that he wouldn’t be here interrupting if something important weren’t going on.
When Byron looked out the window, he noticed that Aislynn was already a quarter of the way up the wall.  He shook his head in wonder, and moved away.  Eryk took his place, and drew in a shocked gasp of air at what he saw.
“What is going on here?” he demanded, not really knowing how to make sense of the scene out the window.
“She’s trying to prove a point,” Byron answered, a touch of exasperation evident in his voice.  “She felt that the guards were not to blame for what happened to your father, and she’s proving it so that I'll leave these two alone.”  He glared over his shoulder at the pair of guards, still not certain what to do with them.
It didn't take long for Aislynn to finish her climb, reaching the window and pulling herself in.  She was soaked through to the skin, and she was leaving a little puddle on the stone floor.  Seeing that, she sighed and wished to herself that stone kept moisture better; it would have been the perfect corroborating evidence for her theory if the assassin had left a puddle earlier this morning.
“There,” she said, looking at Byron.  “I told you it wasn’t that hard a climb, even in the rain.”
Eryk was staring at her, really seeing her for the first time this morning.  Here was a princess from a neighboring kingdom, dressed like a boy and standing in his dead father’s room.  She was wearing a pair of daggers on the belt at her waist, and he couldn't help but notice how her wet clothing was clinging to her body, leaving virtually nothing to the imagination.  And she wasn’t ashamed of any of it!  He had known that she was different, unlike anyone he had ever met, but this was simply too much to take.
“What are you?” he asked softly.
Startled by the question, Aislynn suddenly realized exactly what she must look like.  She blushed and started to stammer a response, when she was interrupted.
“She’s an assassin, like the one that killed your father.”  
It was Branden, coming up behind Eryk.  “For all we know,” he continued, “she is the one who killed your father.”
Her jaw dropped in shock, and her hands clenched reflexively in anger.  “How dare you!  How could you possibly make an accusation like that?”
“Well let’s look at the facts,” he said calmly, an evil little smirk on his face.  “You arrive here, make nicey-nice with the guards and a few days later, the king is dead.  To top it all off, you show everyone exactly how you got into this room in the first place.  It doesn't take a genius to put the pieces together.”
“You have no idea what you are talking about, Branden.”  Aislynn’s voice was taking on a tone of eerie calm, the anger draining from in entirely.  Startled by the change in her demeanor, Byron went to take a small step toward her, thinking to restrain her, actually afraid of her for the first time.  And afraid of what she might do if she got angry enough.  Behind him, he heard a low, dangerous growl, and he froze immediately.  He’d forgotten about Cheta.
“Do you deny that you are an assassin?”  Branden was really smiling now, his grin mocking her.  He knew what she was, and he knew that she couldn't deny it.  He had her trapped.
Aislynn shook her head slowly.  “No, I can’t deny that.”
Eryk stared at her as if she were a monster that had just climbed out of the pit of some hell.  She felt a curious mixture of emotions from him through the link: fear, anger, confusion and…hatred.
“Branden is right, and it all makes sense.  You are so different, so unlike normal women.  You did this!  You must be responsible for my father’s death.” Eryk turned to Byron.  “Arrest her, immediately.  I want her tried and put to death as soon as possible.”
Byron shook his head ruefully.  “I can’t do that, your Majesty.  There is a lot that you don’t know yet.  Besides, I think the wolf would object if I tried to touch her right now.  How about we go somewhere else and talk about this.  Let’s go down to your study.”
“Fine,” Eryk spat, throwing Aislynn a look of pure disgust.  “She goes first.”
Aislynn, pained by what she was hearing and by what she was sensing, moved through the room and out the door anyway, heading for the king’s study on the first floor.  The others trailed along behind her, Eryk and Branden walking side-by-side, and Byron bringing up the rear, followed closely by Cheta.  The four guards were left standing by the doorway, knowing what they had heard but having no idea what to do with the information.  
When the group reached the study, Aislynn stalked inside like some angry beast.  Contrary to her body language, her face was serene, her anger controlled.  Byron, watching from behind, was sure that if she’d had a tail, it would be lashing from side to side, showing the anger she was trying to keep hidden.  He remembered from their first meeting that she was touchy, so he could only imagine the explosion that was about to happen.  
Eryk took a seat on the couch where Rupert had lain not so many days ago, and Branden took a place behind him, standing in an effort to be intimidating.  Byron shut the door and took a place beside and slightly behind Aislynn, carefully on the other side of her from Cheta.
“Fine,” Eryk ground out between clenched teeth, not looking at Aislynn directly.  “Talk.”
Aislynn took a deep breath and let it out slowly, making sure that she’d be able to speak in a reasonably civilized manner.  It was apparently time for Eryk’s history lesson.  Remembering her father’s words and startled that it had only been just over a ten-day ago since she’d heard them, she began.
“Years ago, your kingdom and mine had no contact other than the usual trade agreements and the like.  However, when my country came under attack from allied nations, we turned to you for help.  Your kingdom gave us that help mostly because while our emissary was here trying to forge an agreement, she saved your king from an assassination attempt.  
“It turns out that my kingdom produces some excellent assassins, who in turn make excellent bodyguards, and your kingdom has a wonderful army.  A mutual protection pact was forged between our kingdoms.
“Back then, centuries ago, there was strong magic in existence that is not here today, and some of this magic was used in the formation of the pact.  Evendell will provide the monarch of Bacovia with a bodyguard, and Bacovia will in turn protect Evendell with her armies as needed.  
“Since then, a number of children in our kingdom have been born with a special birthmark, the one you noticed on my arm last night.  This marks us as a potential bodyguard for your kingdom, and we begin our training about as soon as we are able to move in a coordinated fashion, around four years old or so.
“I was sent here as a result of that pact, selected from the fully trained assassins by the magic that binds our kingdoms when Rupert died, to come and be a bodyguard for the monarchy.  I couldn't possibly have killed your father; it goes against everything that I am.”
Eryk took a moment to digest what she'd said, but Branden needed no time.
“So you are the monarch’s bodyguard?  Then why is the monarch dead?”
“I wasn’t assigned to Tarren,” replied Aislynn, turning her head to glare at Branden.  “I was assigned to Eryk, at his father’s request.  After the previous assassination attempts, he decided that he wanted Eryk protected instead of himself.”  She looked at Eryk for the first time since walking into the room, begging him to understand that she was sorry that this had happened but that it wasn’t her fault.  He just looked at her, face blank, but she could sense the uncertainty he was feeling.
“Why didn't you say something?  We've certainly spent enough time together over the past few days.” 
“It was a secret,” she answered.  “The only people who know about everyone involved in the pact are the monarch, the chief advisor, the captain of the guard and the bodyguard themselves.”  She looked at Branden again.  “Which makes me wonder how it is that you know so much about me?  You didn't seem at all surprised by what I was saying.”  
Beside her, Cheta growled low in her throat, a quiet, rumbling sound, picking up Aislynn’s anger as it built anew.
“My father didn't trust you, and he told me about you the very night that you arrived here,” Branden answered.  “He was concerned because Tarren was obviously blinded by his relationship with your father.  But my father is wiser than he was; that’s why Tarren relied on his advice.  My father saw the previous assassination attempts for what they were, a ruse to get rid of a loyal bodyguard and put a deceptive wench in his place.  
“The letter to your father must have detailed Tarren’s idea to go without a bodyguard, and your father took steps to send someone that he would trust, someone who could get close to him.  He sent his own daughter.  And so, my father told me all about you and what you are, and it looks like his fears were justified.  You are unnatural.”  He growled the last words.
The labeling of Aislynn as unnatural sparked something inside of Eryk, as it echoed his own thoughts of how different she was from other ladies of rank.  He clung to that, and turned on her, anger and hatred building inside of him again.
“Branden has been trained to be my advisor, just as Collin was trained to advise my father.  What he says does make sense.  You did do it.”  Branden was his trusted friend, after all.
“No!”  Aislynn cried out in denial, looking Eryk straight in the eye.  “I couldn't do it, there’s no possible way.  The pact prevents me from harming any member of the royal family of Bacovia.  You could take up a dagger and try to plunge it into my heart and I would be unable to strike back against you.”  
Her voice turned very cold as she took a step toward Branden.  “You, however, are not a member of the royal family.  I can kill you.”  And she advanced another step, drawing a dagger half from its sheath.
Byron exploded into motion, determined to prevent another death, though he knew from his sparring matches with her that trying to take Aislynn down could possibly end his own life.  
“Stop!”
The command from Eryk, backed as it was by the full authority of the king, her protégé, stopped Aislynn dead in her tracks.  She was apparently unable to disobey a direct command too, something that she noted irritably in the back of her mind; she’d ponder that later.  For now, she sheathed her dagger and looked at her king.  
“Fine,” she said.  “I won’t kill him, yet, but he does deserve it.”  She looked at Branden.  “You have hated me more and more with each passing day.  What did I ever do to you?”
“Aside from being what you are?”  Branden left it at that, clearly thinking that it was enough.
“All of you be quiet,” Eryk commanded.  “Let me think about this for a moment.”
Aislynn and Branden stood glaring at each other, Byron wondering who was going to crack first, while Eryk thought about the situation and the silence dragged on.  Just when Byron thought that he was about to burst with the need to make some noise, any noise, Eryk spoke.
“I will concede that Aislynn is telling the truth and that she is not the killer.  I believe that everything she said about the pact between our realms is true, especially since I can verify all of it in the historical records.”  Relief flooded through Aislynn, but Eryk wasn’t done yet.
“However,” he continued, “I also believe that there was a horrendous error made on the part of Evendell, and my father should have been the one protected.  You, Aislynn, should have protected him.  Failing that, you have failed in your duty as far as I am concerned.  Right now, I cannot stand the sight of you, because I do consider you responsible for my father’s death.  I want you out of this room immediately and I don’t want to see you ever again.”  That, fortunately, was a wish and not a command.
“But your Majesty!” Byron couldn't let that pass without comment.  “How is she supposed to do her job if she can’t be near you?”
“You and your guards will have to be enough, I suppose,” he replied quietly.  Branden grinned in triumph over Eryk’s head.  He had wanted Aislynn sent away, and he was getting his wish.  The timing struck her as very convenient.
Aislynn glared at Branden, her eyes shooting daggers, but she spoke to Eryk.  
“I will leave this room,” she conceded, “but I will not leave the castle or the kingdom.  You are stuck with me, your Majesty, but you have given me an order and I will obey it.”  
She turned on her heel and left the room, Cheta at her side.  Byron stared after her, shocked by the sudden turn of events.  He had thought that when Eryk found out about Aislynn, it would settle everything, but he had been wrong, apparently.
“I’m afraid that you are making a grave mistake, your Majesty,” he ventured, keeping his voice under control through force of will alone.  “The contract is not yet complete, since you are still breathing.  And you just sent away your best chance of survival.  I hope you live to regret that decision, since the alternative is considerably less desirable.” 
“I guess we'll have to wait and see, won’t we?”  Eryk’s voice was flat, devoid of all emotion, as the events of the morning began to settle in his mind.  Over his shoulder, the sun suddenly burst out from behind the clouds, illuminating the study and the three men inside.  The rain had ended, and the reign of King Eryk was just beginning.



Chapter 11

Aislynn fled down the hallway and back up the stairs to her room as soon as she was able to run without Eryk seeing her.  She didn't care who else saw her right now; she just cared about getting away from him before she did kill someone.  She had never been so furious in her life.  
As she slammed open the door to her rooms, Marja took one look at her friend and bit off the comment she had been about to make.  Marja had a feeling that if she valued her life at all, now would not be a good time to draw attention to herself.  Instead, she shrank back into a corner while Aislynn stormed through the reception room and into her bedroom.  
Aislynn stripped off her soaked clothing, throwing them into a pile in the middle of the room.  She glanced briefly at the black dress that Marja had laid out for her but thought better of it.  She was in no mood to play princess right now.  Instead, she pulled on another pair of pants, these a dark green instead of her regular light brown, and then went digging through her drawers for a shirt.  She knew that she should be wearing black out of respect for the dead king, but she just couldn't bring herself to do anything that would make Eryk happy right now, even if it was the proper thing to do.  No, she corrected herself, especially if it was the proper thing to do.  She pulled out a sleeveless tunic, deep yellow in color, and belted it around her waist with a black belt.  It would have to do.
Next, Aislynn went looking for her weapons.  Perhaps, given her mood, being armed wasn’t ideal, but she wasn’t going anywhere without her weapons today.  The daggers she’d had with her this morning were from the castle armory, and not her own perfectly balanced pair, so those were what she picked up first, adding their scabbards to the belt she wore.  Then she found her sling, and a pouch of bullets.  She hefted the pouch for a moment, then changed her mind and let it drop back onto the bed.  She’d use rocks instead, she decided.  They were considerably less expensive to replace if she lost one.
During all of these preparations, Cheta just sat by the door, unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of her chest as she drew breath.  She wasn’t sure what Aislynn was thinking of doing, but she was determined to help support her friend through this.  That’s what she was for, after all.  It looked like Aislynn was getting ready to go shoot down a few pigeons, considering the ranged weaponry she was selecting.  That could be fun, the wolf thought.
Just as Aislynn was about to leave her bedroom, there was a knock at the outer door.  Aislynn spun toward the noise, ready to tear a strip off of whoever it was.  She knew that it wasn’t Eryk, since she could feel him still down in the study.  A part of her really hoped that it was Branden, but she figured she wasn’t that lucky.  With a nervous glance toward her friend, who she could see through the open bedroom door, Marja answered the door and then stood aside as Byron entered the room.
“Come with me,” he said, not quite ordering Aislynn to accompany him but certainly more than suggesting.  
“What if I had other plans?  Are you going to make me?” Aislynn snarled.
“No, I’m not,” Byron replied calmly, determined to help Aislynn calm down as she had helped him earlier.  “But I figured that you could use something to hit right about now, so I came to offer my services.”
Aislynn eyed him, a little apprehensive, but she couldn't see anything in his body language to suggest that he meant her harm.  She relaxed just a little.
“You’re likely right,” she admitted.  “I probably could use something to hit.  Let’s go.”
Byron led the way back out of the castle proper and into the main courtyard, retracing their earlier steps back to the barracks.  Once they entered the building, the pair walked past some guardsmen.  The conversation stopped immediately as the men turned to stare at them, or more specifically, at Aislynn.
“Seems like someone’s been spreading tales,” Byron commented.
“You didn't honestly think that it would stay a secret, did you?”  Aislynn snorted in a most unladylike manner.  “I wonder what they said when they got back here?”
The guards were looking at her nervously, but they were not aggressive in any way.  Either they didn't know about the accusation Branden had laid at her feet, or they didn't believe her capable of it.  Regardless of which was true, it would certainly be easier to deal with curiosity than it would be anger and distrust.
Byron sighed.  “I guess that we might as well deal with this right now,” he said.  “The sooner it’s all out in the open, the easier everyone’s lives will be.”
He turned to face the guards standing in the hall watching them.  
“You two go fetch the rest of the off-duty guards and meet us in the dining hall.  We'll address all of your questions there.”  
The guards took off at a run, and Byron and Aislynn continued at a more sedate pace to the large dining room and the rapidly gathering compliment of castle guards.  After giving the guards a few minutes to assemble, Byron began.
“Well gents, by now you've likely all heard some interesting stories about our guest here.”  He paused, indicating Aislynn standing at his side.  “Most of those stories are probably at least partially true.  It would take too long to tell the whole story, so why don’t you just ask the questions you’re dying to ask and the two of us will answer them as best we can.”  
There was silence in the room for a few moments while the guards mulled this over.  Were they actually expected to ask the real questions they wanted answers to, or was this all for show?  Aislynn could see her pair of loyal guards in the back, easily identifiable due to their uniforms.  She saw them tense, just in case she needed them to try to protect her.  
“Is it true that she’s an assassin?” a guard called from the back of the room, finally getting up the courage to ask a question.
“Yes, that’s true,” Aislynn answered, despite the fact that she hadn't been addressed directly.  She decided to keep the answers short and sweet, and get this over with as quickly as possible.  She really hated being the centre of attention.
“Did you kill the king?”  This one was braver, asking one of the questions and directing the question to Aislynn herself.
“No, I most certainly did not.”  Her tone left no room for argument, and nobody wanted to continue along that particular line of questioning.
“Did you come here to seduce the prince and take him away?”
Aislynn laughed at that one.  “No, I came here to try and keep him alive, which is becoming less and less likely the longer he keeps being such a pain!”
As the questions continued to fly, the guards started to relax, some of them coming to realize that the Aislynn currently in front of them was no different from the Aislynn who had been doing her best to run their captain around the courtyard each morning.
“Is it true that you threatened to kill the new chief advisor?”  A hush fell over the crowd at that one.  Aislynn wondered if Branden was well liked by this crowd.
“Yes, I did,” Aislynn replied, blushing now at her loss of control.  “He doesn't seem to like me very much, and the feeling is mutual.  I was…am…very angry about his accusations.”
After that, the questions began to get less relevant to the situation and more personal, with a touch of silliness.  Byron decided it was time to end this impromptu gathering.
“That’s enough gentlemen.  With the current shaky situation between the princess and Lord Branden, she'll likely be spending more time over here with us.  You can ask her directly if there are more questions later.  I hope that you'll make her feel welcome here and I encourage you all to take advantage of her expertise.”
As Aislynn and Byron turned away, one last question rang out.
“Princess!  Do you think you could take me down?”  This question was pure curiosity.
She turned, with a grin.  “Almost guaranteed.  And likely you and any of your buddies together.”
With that, Byron escorted a considerably less irritable Aislynn out into the courtyard so that she could hit something, as promised.  A little bit of physical exertion, and her temper should cool.  Byron was looking forward to that – an angry Aislynn was obviously a dangerous Aislynn, and he much preferred her company when she was in control.
Byron figured that if Aislynn was going to spend some time among the guards, she might as well get to know where everything was, so after the meeting he took Aislynn for a brief tour of the barracks building.  They left the dining room, and then went to Byron’s office, the armory and the small barrack’s library.  Byron finished the tour at the indoor arena, and introduced Aislynn to “Pete”, the guards’ nickname for the pells.  He then excused himself for breakfast, leaving Aislynn to work out the last of her anger beating up Pete using the variety of weapons available.
It took about an hour of hard exercise for Aislynn’s temper to cool, which was a lot longer than usual.  Her father had always joked that she should have been born a redhead considering how quick her temper would flare up.  But quick to flare, quick to die down had always been her experience, so this was something new for her.  She admitted to herself that she was glad that Byron had noticed how badly she needed to explode; hitting the pells was definitely just what she required.  She spent most of her time imagining that she was hitting Branden.
When she had finally exhausted herself, Aislynn just sat in the middle of the arena to think.  She knew that Eryk was mad at her, and she knew that Branden was mostly the cause, after seeing the way he was encouraging Eryk to leap to the wrong conclusions about her.  However, she also knew that Eryk was mad because he felt betrayed and she didn't know how to fix that.  
Aislynn knew that doing her job was going to be especially difficult over the coming days, because being a bodyguard was very complicated when you weren't allowed near the person you were supposed to protect.  She would just have to figure something out, something that would allow her to be near Eryk without being seen.  That was his requirement, after all.
“What do you think Cheta?” she asked, scratching the wolf’s ears.  “Do you think we should just beat some sense into the man?  Perhaps hang his so-called advisor out of a window?”  The wolf, of course, didn't answer.  She never did, but she did make a great sounding board.


The morning certainly wasn’t a whole lot of fun for the new king either.  Eryk suddenly had a funeral to plan, and he quickly discovered that a royal funeral took a lot of work.  There were letters to be sent by fast couriers to every kingdom Bacovia had ties to, a public viewing to be arranged for once the body was prepared, and the funeral itself, which involved coordinating with the head of the religious orders in the city.  The only thing he didn't have to do was prepare the body itself.  The healers took care of that, using a combination of mundane and magical techniques to prepare and preserve the corpse.  Eryk was grateful that his uncle’s funeral three years previous was still fresh enough in his memory that he had a reference point to use to start his planning.
On top of all of these immediately necessary duties, he also had the more ordinary duties of running the kingdom thrust upon him too.  Many things would be postponed until after his father’s funeral ten days from now, but Eryk found himself unexpectedly in the middle of a half-negotiated treaty with Madelia, the kingdom to the north.  He had no idea what had been accomplished to date, but he also knew that it would not be a good idea to delay finishing the treaty for the length of time that it would take to complete the royal funeral.  One small bit of good fortune was that Branden had his father to help pass along the details of what had happened in the negotiations up until now, and he, in turn, could pass that information on to Eryk.
Once Eryk had seen the healers started on their work, he had the treaty negotiations scheduled for the afternoon, and then he penned the letters for the couriers.  Finally, he decided that he should at least try to eat something, so he went back upstairs to his rooms to dress quickly, choosing a black linen tunic with short sleeves and lightweight black pants.  The sun was still shining outside, so he didn't want to wear anything too heavy.  He was certain that the color alone would be enough to keep him overly warm.
Branden met Eryk outside of his door as he exited his suite.  Branden had also retired to his rooms to change, and he was ready to face whatever the day had in store for them.  As they walked back down the stairs toward the dining hall, Branden tried to strike up a conversation.
“I've been told that your belongings will be moved into the royal suite this afternoon, once the servants have had time to clear away your father’s personal things.”
“They don’t need to rush,” Eryk commented.  He saw no need to hurry into his father’s soon to be empty quarters.  It was bad enough that there was a formal coronation ceremony looming on tomorrow’s horizon; he didn't really need the rooms today.  
Eryk had certainly never thought that all of this would be his so soon, and had, in fact, tried his best to avoid any of these duties at all.  If he had thought having a wife to care for was bad…having a whole kingdom was far worse.  He sighed, already missing the freedom that he had enjoyed just the day before.
Branden frowned at Eryk’s dismissive comment.  He would have thought that Eryk would be thrilled to be in the royal suite.  They’d dreamed of it as children, and now that the reality was here, Eryk didn't seem very enthusiastic.  Branden understood that Eryk had just lost his father, but one would think that having part of your dreams come true would spark at least a little excitement.
As they entered the dining hall, Eryk noticed that Durham, Cora and little Davin were there already, all dressed appropriately in black.  Byron was also there, wearing one of the black armbands the guard commonly sported when they mourned the passing of someone.  Aislynn was conspicuously absent.  Eryk frowned a little, and Byron noticed his restless glances, eyes moving from table to door and back again, as if looking for someone.
“You told her to stay away from you,” Byron commented a bit acidly.  “You said that you didn't want to see her again, and she’s obeying your command.  She’s dining elsewhere, in case you wanted to know.”  His disapproval of the situation was glaringly apparent, and his tone was bordering on being entirely disrespectful, which could be dangerous in certain company.
Eryk continued to walk toward his new chair at the head of the table, but Durham interrupted his progress by stepping into his path.  
“Are you fighting with your princess?”  He sounded genuinely concerned, but Eryk didn't trust that for one minute.  He’d never liked his cousin’s uncle.  There was just something off about the man.  
“Not exactly, no,” Eryk said.  Technically, he wasn’t fighting with Aislynn.  He’d ordered her away, and she was doing what she was told, finally acting like a properly raised noble lady.  For once.
“Well it’s a shame that she isn't here,” Durham commented.  “I was starting to become fond of her.  She is certainly…something, isn't she?”
Eryk decided not to bother being drawn into a conversation with Durham, especially not about Aislynn, and he took a step around the man.  He took his seat, and the servants began to serve the meal.  Eryk selected only a little of the food being offered to him, and he ate less than half of it.  He had no appetite, but knew that his body needed fuel, so he forced himself to take one bite at a time until he just couldn't bring himself to eat any more.
During the meal, Eryk was aware that Durham and Branden were talking, but he didn't care enough to pay attention.  They both seemed to sense that his thoughts were elsewhere, and seemed content to leave him out of the conversation entirely.  
When he was finished pretending to eat, Eryk sighed and stood, nodded to the servants, and then he left the room to prepare for the council meeting he had to deal with for the rest of the morning.  Branden was quick to follow, knowing that Eryk would need an advisor at a time like this, an advisor who felt nothing but sadness for the old king’s passing, and optimism for the new king’s reign.  Branden felt that he fit that description perfectly.
The council had eight members who were responsible for finances, defense of the kingdom, defense of the city, merchants, artisans, healers, religion, and diplomatic relations.  They were all gentlemen, each selected for his post by Tarren.  While there were currently no women on the council, there had been in the past, and the only member of the current council who Eryk really knew was Byron, who was responsible for the defense of the city.  Also present at the meeting were Branden, as Eryk’s chief advisor, and the royal secretary.
Everyone was assembled and waiting when Eryk and Branden entered the council chamber.  They were all dressed somberly in black, except for Byron, and everyone expressed their condolences when he entered.  Eryk just nodded in acknowledgement of their comments, took his seat at the head of the table, and brought the meeting to order.
“So what’s first on the agenda today?” he asked.
“Well, your Majesty, we should likely start by going over the procedure for tomorrow’s coronation ceremony.”  This was Father Jonas, who was the religious advisor on the council, and the head of the religious orders in the city.
They went over all of the details: where Eryk would stand, what he would say, who would do what.  They ironed out the finer points of the ceremony, and then they all moved on to other business.
“I know that you were supposed to have until Midsummer…”
“No!”  Eryk straightened up in his seat, trying to look intimidating.  His precious freedom was vanishing before his eyes, by leaps and bounds.    
“But your Majesty, a bachelor King is a very dangerous thing,” said Lord Geoffrey, the commander-in-chief of Bacovia’s army.  “It is very easy to envision overthrowing a kingdom when there is no direct heir.”
Eryk knew that they were right, but he just couldn't admit it aloud, not yet.  He sighed.  “How long will you give me?”
“Well, your Majesty, the sooner the better.  Having a fiancée at your side for your coronation would be ideal…” He trailed off, seeing Eryk shaking his head at that.  “Well, definitely before the funeral then, so that you can attend your father’s funeral with your fiancée at your side.  That gives you nine more days, since the funeral is the morning of the tenth day from now.”
“I will think about it,” Eryk promised.  Remembering last night, there were only a few of the ladies he’d danced with who stood out in his memory.  He hoped that this would help him make a decision that he so dearly didn't want to make.  He knew he had to though; he’d run out of time.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
“No, your Majesty,” the secretary said.  “Everything else has been postponed until after the funeral.”
“In that case, I will bid you all good day.”  Eryk rose from his chair and left the room, planning to have a light lunch in his study before meeting with the Madelian emissaries that afternoon.  Branden was right behind him, and Eryk was reminded briefly of Cheta and the way she would follow Aislynn around everywhere.  
Damn that woman, he thought, anger flaring up again.  How could she betray this kingdom like that?  And to make matters worse, I haven’t seen her all day and she’s still haunting me.  Eryk growled to himself under his breath, and sat down to his lunch, determined not to think about her again.  Instead, he picked up the secretary’s notes from the previous diplomatic meetings with Madelia and started to read.
 


Chapter 12

Finally, Aislynn got up and went in search of some food.  She could feel that Eryk was anxious about something, and she was going to have to determine what that was.  Things that made her protégé anxious could possibly lead to a dangerous situation, and despite the fact that he was being an imbecile, she wasn’t about to let him be killed.  She’d figure something out.
Fortunately, as she made her way back to the dining hall, she ran into Byron, who was coming to find her and see how she was doing.  She greeted him with a big smile.
“Feeling better, I take it?” he asked, taking in her grin.
“Definitely.  And you’re just the person I wanted to see.”
“Really?  Why is that?”  Byron asked with an answering grin.
“I need to know what’s going on over in the castle right now.  Eryk’s feeling anxious about something and I need to know what it is.”
“Oh.”  Byron’s face fell.  “I don’t understand why you would even care, after the way he treated you this morning.  It’s not right.”
“It’s okay, really,” she started, shaking her head as if to clear it of some nasty thoughts.
“No, it’s not,” he was quick to interrupt.  Just thinking about the conversation this morning made him angry.
“Regardless of whether it was right or not, I care because I have to care.  Even if he wants nothing to do with me, I still have to protect him.  Right now, it’s all that I am.  I have trained to protect him for my entire life, and even being a princess has taken second place to that training.  Can you understand that?” 
He looked at her face, at her bright eyes and the stubborn set of her mouth, and he knew that she was deadly serious.  At least for the time being, until she found a true role for herself here in Bacovia, she was nothing without Eryk.  Byron sighed and looked away, not wanting Aislynn to see how much her devotion to Eryk hurt him.  
“Okay, I'll help you, even though Eryk doesn't deserve it at all.  What is it that you want to know?”
“Well, let’s start with the anxiety,” she said as she started moving along the corridor toward the dining hall.  “What happened this morning?”
“The council decided that Eryk had to choose his bride by the funeral, for one thing.  I know that would have made him anxious.”  Byron chuckled a little, remembering the look of discomfort on Eryk’s face as he’d conceded to the wishes of the council.
“That could be it.  What else happened?” she pressed.
“We also went over the procedure for tomorrow’s coronation ceremony.  That was all that we had time for, because Eryk’s got a diplomatic meeting this afternoon, with the emissaries from Madelia.”
“We'll definitely have to talk about the coronation ceremony later.  We know that the contract isn't complete yet, and the ceremony could be an excellent place for another attempt on Eryk’s life, so I'll need to know everything that you discussed at the meeting.  For right now, tell me what you know about this diplomatic meeting.”
Byron shook his head.  “I really don’t know a lot about it.  I know that Madelia is the kingdom to the north of us and that there have been skirmishes across the border for about as long as anyone can remember, before and after the last war.  Officially, the skirmishes are the work of bandits, but everyone knows that the bandits wear army uniforms under their scruffy clothing.  
“Diplomacy really isn't my forte, and I haven’t been involved with the emissaries except to get them settled into their rooms when they initially arrived.  They have their own guards, so I have nothing to do with them.”
“When did the emissaries get here?” Aislynn asked, a concerned look on her face.
“I don’t know.  About two weeks ago maybe?” Byron answered, confused.
Aislynn stopped dead in the hall and turned to face him. 
“So let me get this straight.  You have diplomatic emissaries here from a nation that has been traditionally hostile.  They have their own rooms with their own guards, so virtually none of the palace staff has anything to do with them.  And they arrived right around the time of the first assassination attempts against Tarren and Eryk.  Does any of this strike you as odd?  I need to be at that meeting.”
Byron looked a little sick at Aislynn’s statements, and he nodded in agreement.  “But how?  Eryk wants nothing to do with you, for one, and even if he did, what excuse could there be for you to attend?”
“Well then I'll just have to hide, won’t I?”
Byron took a long, steadying breath and then started walking again.  
“Let’s grab something to eat on the way by the dining hall, and I'll take you to the meeting room.  I'll help you figure out something, even if he doesn't deserve it.”



Chapter 13

Eryk put down the reports he’d been reading and rubbed his temples.  The reports were giving him a headache, and he really wasn’t any closer to understanding what had been going on in these meetings up until now.  He suddenly wished that he’d paid closer attention to what his father had been doing, but then he brushed that thought away as unproductive.  There was absolutely no point dwelling on past mistakes, especially not with the meeting looming.
He turned to Branden, who was sprawled on the couch with another set of reports in his hands.  Branden was looking at him, watching him rub his aching temples.
“Do you want some of my medication?” Branden asked.  “I’m sure it will take the edge off that headache of yours.”
“No, thank you,” replied Eryk.  “So what do you make of all of this?  Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”
“Only a little,” Branden replied, shaking his head ruefully, “and what little I do know is from my father, not from these blasted reports.”
“Well, for better or for worse, I guess it’s time that we go and muddle through this meeting.  We might as well get set up so that we at least look like we know what we’re doing.”  Eryk smiled contritely.
The two friends made their way down the hall, neither of them saying anything, lost in their own thoughts.  Suddenly, Eryk stopped, scanning the hallway.  He was certain that he’d just seen something move farther up the hall.  Branden stopped a few paces along, and turned with a worried look on his face.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I thought I saw something move, just a little bit ahead there.”
Branden turned to look up the hall, and seeing nothing, turned back toward his friend.
“You’re just jumping at shadows,” he said.  “It’s totally understandable, what with how your day started.  Let’s get going.”
Eryk shrugged and forced himself to agree.  It had already been a very long day, and it made sense that he would be on edge.  But he could have sworn that he’d caught a glimpse of something gray and black up the hall.
They soon reached their destination, a small meeting chamber on the main floor of the castle.  When they first walked into the room, the map of the kingdom on the far wall drew their eyes.  The mural also showed all of the neighboring kingdoms, including Evendell to the south and Madelia to the north.  The right hand wall was set with three floor-to-ceiling windows, which were open on the bottom to let in light, as well as the sweetly scented summer breeze from the garden outside.  The other walls were paneled in warm oak and contained shelves filled with books, maps and scroll cases.
In the center of the room sat a round table, already adorned with a large map of the Bacovian and Madelian border.  There were pen marks on the map, showing the progress of the border discussions to date.  Also marked on the map were the areas of production, agricultural in Bacovia and forestry-based in Madelia.  It was obvious that trade talks were also being conducted as part of the treaty agreement.  Six chairs surrounded the table, and there was a sideboard set with light foods and drinks for the delegates from both kingdoms.
Eryk and Branden seated themselves and waited for the emissaries to arrive.  They didn't have to wait long.  The two gentlemen who entered the room, preceded by the court secretary, were definitely foreign.  Their dress, their accent, even their movement spoke of faraway places.  As they strode into the room, their gait seemed to amble along, as if they had all the time in the world with nowhere important to be.  It seemed strange to Eryk, who was used to everyone nearly running here and there, always desperate to squeeze a few more minutes from the day.
They were dressed head to toe in clothing of various shades of brown and green.  Some of the cloth even had patterns stamped into them.  It seemed like each piece of clothing was made from several pieces of previously worn clothing sewn together, creating a mismatch of shade and texture for each individual garment, but the effect was far from haphazard.  For example, the tunic of one man looked pieced together from five different garments, but when Eryk looked at the tunic over the light brown shirt, he realized that this man would easily fade into a forest background, leaving no defined lines of clothing to stand out.  These men were dressed in camouflage, and it seemed to be their everyday clothing.  Eryk had to wonder what sort of nation required you to hide at a moment’s notice.
“We are very sorry to hear of the passing of your father, you Majesty,” one man began.  “I am Kardon, and this is my companion Sookra.”
“We are pleased to make your acquaintance,” Eryk responded.  “I am Eryk, and this is my chief advisor, Branden.”
“It is an odd custom to replace your advisor when you assume the throne,” remarked Sookra.  “It would seem more logical to keep the previous knowledge and experience close at hand.”
“Regardless, it is our custom, allowing the king to usually avoid multiple changes of advisor over his reign.  However, you can rest assured that Lord Collin will remain an advisor to his Majesty,” Branden replied.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we, gentlemen?”  Eryk was eager to get this finished.  Something about these two men made him uneasy.
The hours that followed were full of arguments and veiled threats, in the case of both nations, but predominately from Madelia.  It seemed that the emissaries were hoping to take advantage of a young and inexperienced king, but Eryk had had some training from his father, at least.  He didn't plan to let the Madelian emissaries get away with any of their bullying tactics.
“I understand that your people could benefit from the arable lands just to the south of the current border,” Eryk began for what seemed like the tenth time, “but I am not prepared to grant Madelia that much land, let alone for the pittance that you are offering.  I still believe that the trade agreement is the better option for Bacovia.”
“That land is essentially unpopulated by Bacovians, so we do not understand your need to keep it.  Those few settlements that are there can simply move, or we can draw the border to accommodate for some of them.  Madelia requires that land!”  Kardon was getting angrier by the moment, and Eryk felt that now was likely a good time to end the discussions for the day.
“Think about what we are offering.  The surplus of agricultural goods, including seed and stock, for an equal weight of wood is a fair deal.  Considering how much seed and grain you could receive for a single cord of wood, this offer is more than generous.  We will not cede any lands to you beyond the border negotiations that you already concluded with my father.  Perhaps some time to mull over this offer before returning to the table would benefit all of us.”
“You can keep your ‘surpluses’, your Majesty,” Kardon spat.  “You may live to regret the day you did not listen to us.  Madelia needs that land, and we will get it, one way or another.”  With that, Kardon and Sookra turned and strode out of the room, followed by the secretary, and Eryk slumped in his chair as soon as the door closed behind them.
“Well, that was exhausting,” he commented to Branden, who looked just as tired as he felt.
“Yes, it was, but I think that you did the right thing.  The borders that your father negotiated previously are more than generous.”  Branden gestured toward the map on the table.  “We have given them considerable acreage of fertile land.”
“True.  I can’t help but wonder how much of their talk is bluff and how much of it is actual threat though.  They make me uneasy.”
“Well at least we don’t have to deal with them again until at least the day after tomorrow.  All government business is suspended tomorrow due to the coronation ceremony.”
Eryk groaned.  “Don’t remind me,” he pleaded.  “That’s not going to be particularly fun.  Between the vigil that starts at dawn, and then the horrendously long ceremony that begins at noon, tomorrow will prove even more exhausting than today, I fear.”
“Come on,” said Branden, “let’s go have some dinner and then you can turn in early.”
“That sounds like a good plan.  I should have a nice hot bath and soak away some of these aches too.”
Branden smiled.  “Wouldn't it be nice to have a wife to rub your back for you too?” he asked.
Eryk rolled his eyes.  “Would you stop?  I suppose you think that Alexius would be good at back rubs?”
“Well…now that you mention it,” Branden began.
“Enough!  I swear that if you don’t stop shoving Alexius down my throat, I'll marry Aislynn just to spite you!”  As soon as the words left his mouth, Eryk realized that he was only partially joking.
Branden’s face immediately darkened with anger.  
“You would marry that…killer?  How could you do that?  Alexius is a fine young woman, and she’d make a wonderful wife for you, loving, caring, and quiet.  You were right to send that creature from Evendell away from you.  How could you even consider marrying her?”
Eryk was totally taken aback by the depth of Branden’s apparent hatred for Aislynn.  He knew that Branden didn't trust her, but this seemed very extreme.  Eryk had had all day for his temper to cool, and while he didn't regret the decision to send Aislynn away, he was no longer angry.  Branden, apparently, was even more angry and full of hatred than he had been this morning.
“Whoa Branden, relax.  I was just kidding.  I know that you think I should marry Alexius, and I know she’s a sweet girl.  I've known her for her entire life and she’s almost like a sister me.  I don’t understand your loathing for Aislynn, though.”
Branden struggled visibly to get his anger under control.  After a few moments, he turned away from Eryk and headed toward the door.
“Just don’t worry about it, okay?” he said.  “Let’s go grab some dinner.  I invited Alexius to the castle for the meal, but if you want, I'll send her away.”
“No, that’s fine,” Eryk replied.  At this point, he would do just about anything to keep Branden from exploding again.  “I should probably spend some more time with her anyway.”
The two men left the room, shutting the door behind them.
Outside in the garden, Aislynn stretched out her legs, easing out of the cramped position she had spent most of the afternoon in.  When an examination of the meeting room had revealed nowhere for her to hide, she had sought refuge in the garden, where she could observe through the open windows.  She had set herself up against the stone between two of the windows, and using a small mirror that she now tucked away, she had been able to observe most of the meeting.  
She definitely didn't like what she had seen or heard.  Eryk may not have been able to tell the difference between bluff and threat, but she certainly could.  The body language of the two emissaries had screamed aggression, and Aislynn was sure that they were somehow involved in Tarren’s death.  She couldn't figure out how they would benefit from killing the royal family though.  Unless they thought that they’d be able to get the treaty they wanted from the successor to the throne, of course.  But she was sure that Tarren had mentioned that the next closest relative was Davin, hadn't he?
Getting up very slowly, Aislynn meticulously stretched each of her muscle groups before trusting her weight to them.  She knew that Eryk would be safe enough in the dining hall for dinner, and she needed to speak with Byron.  These Madelians needed watching.  
She started away toward her own dinner with the guards, just catching a glimpse of Cheta’s gray and black tail as she rounded the corner.  Apparently, the wolf had been out scouting this afternoon, and Aislynn wondered if she had found anything interesting.  She regretted being unable to communicate directly with the eesprid, and not for the first time.
Aislynn ate with her own guards in the barracks’ dining hall, with nobody else willing, or perhaps brave enough, to speak to her.  Without Byron there to act as an intermediary, the majority of the guardsmen seemed to be afraid of her.  She really couldn't blame them, she decided.  She sort of went against everything that they knew.  Here in Bacovia, the women were quiet and meek, and only the men learned to handle weapons of any sort.
Finally, Byron returned to the barracks after his own dinner was finished, and Aislynn was able to fill him in on what she had seen and heard.
“We have to keep a close eye on them,” she stated as she finished her recount.  “I don’t think that they can be trusted.”
“I'll see what I can do,” Byron promised, “but it’s likely to be difficult to get anyone close to them without that someone being noticed.  I'll do the best that I can though.”
Having done what she could, Aislynn excused herself for the night, after reminding Byron that she would be unable to attend their morning practice.  Eryk’s vigil started at dawn, and she was determined to be there with him, even if he didn't know it.
Aislynn walked back into the castle and up the stairs to her rooms for the first time since her abrupt exit early that morning.  She could see that Marja was still a little apprehensive when she entered the suite, so she smiled in reassurance.
“I’m sorry about this morning, Marja,” Aislynn started.  “The death of the king had all of us frazzled, and I acted poorly and far beneath my station.”
Marja smiled back, hesitantly.  “Does your Highness require the black dress for tomorrow?” she asked.
Aislynn shook her head.  “No, Marja, at least not right away.  I will be keeping watch over his Majesty during his vigil, and the dress will just get dirty, most likely.  If there is time, I will come back here and change before the ceremony, so that I can put in a proper appearance, but I’m not sure I’d be welcome at the ceremony anyway.”
At Marja’s puzzled expression, Aislynn explained what had happened that morning, which basically boiled down to the fact that until Eryk said otherwise, she was incapable of being where he was in any official capacity.  And she felt that as long as Branden was around, Eryk would never countermand his order.  So, for now, it was all hiding in shadows in her future.
Marja shook her head.  “You know that your father is going to kill me, right?” she said.
“Why ever for?” Aislynn demanded.  “None of this is your fault.”
“No, it isn't,” Marja agreed, “but it is my responsibility to keep you from making these sorts of errors.  I guess it could be worse, though.” 
“Worse?  How could it possibly be worse?”
“If it wasn’t for the pact between our kingdoms, then his Majesty’s command to leave would have sent you fleeing from this castle.  Then who would be here to protect him?”  Marja smiled.
Aislynn laughed, considering the irony of it.  The pact that brought her here and made it impossible to disobey Eryk’s direct commands was the same pact that required her to remain here, thereby disobeying Eryk’s implied command.  Once again, she was thankful that he’d phrased her banishment as a wish and not as an order.
It was with a considerably lighter heart that Aislynn retired for the night.  It had been a long day, and tomorrow promised to be considerably longer.



Chapter 14

The pre-dawn quiet was broken only by the tread of booted feet along the cobbled streets leading to the great cathedral that took up the west side of the mountain plateau that was home to the city of Eaglecrest.  This cathedral was by no means the only church in the city but it was considered the central church, and so all major events were held there.
Eryk walked along accompanied by an honor guard of only three.  Byron was there, and he had picked two of his best men, his lieutenants Owen and Jon, to keep the king safe during his vigil.  The vigil was to begin at dawn, and it would last until the coronation ceremony at noon.  Eryk, dressed only in the pure white garments he would wear for the ceremony, was to spend the intervening hours in meditation, thinking about how to be a good and fair king for his people.  Byron, still angry, thought to himself that Eryk would do well to think long and hard.
While he walked, Eryk found himself wishing absurdly that it were winter.  While the walk to the cathedral would have been less than pleasant, the time between dawn and noon would have been considerably shorter than now, just two short weeks before Midsummer.
The captain was far from being lost in thought like Eryk.  He was busy scanning left and right as he led the small procession through the city; Aislynn had him spooked with her thoughts of conspiracy.  He had to admit that her conclusions seemed plausible enough, and he’d be damned if another king died on his watch.  His examination of the area soon paid off, and he was comforted by a glimpse of Cheta shadowing them along a parallel road.  If Cheta is nearby, then so is Aislynn, he thought to himself.
Little did Byron know, but Aislynn wasn’t anywhere near the group.  She was already at the cathedral getting herself organized before Eryk arrived.  She trusted Cheta to help keep Eryk safe on his walk, and she had a lot of work to do before he reached his destination.  She had already explored the cathedral, noting the main door and the smaller back door hidden behind one of the tapestries flanking the altar.  It led into a corridor, which in turn led to Father Jonas’ offices.  There was another door at the end of the corridor, which led outside.  Aislynn made sure that both of the small doors were locked, but she knew that anyone with a hint of talent at picking locks would make short work of them. The windows were not any cause for concern at least, as they were all leaded glass and didn't open.
Looking up, Aislynn was glad to see that this church had a roof held up with exposed beams.  She knew that the open area above would help with the acoustics of the room, but for her it would make for an excellent hiding place, once she figured out the best way to get up there and best location to see as much as possible of the floor below.
She finally decided that the large beam that ran the length of the room, from the great double doors to the altar, would make for the best vantage point.  Numerous beams ran across the width of the room and met it, and as the first light of the dawn was just appearing in the sky, she scrambled up one of the six columns lining the walls of the cathedral and scampered across the beams like a human-sized squirrel.  Sitting down at the junction of the beams, she settled herself for a long wait just as the doors to the cathedral opened.
Eryk entered the church alone, leaving his guards outside.  He paused in the entranceway for a few moments, and looked around.  He had been here before, of course, for his mother’s funeral and then for his uncle’s, but this was really the first time he'd had the opportunity to look around.  
There were three massive columns running along each wall, and between them were immense stained glass windows, each depicting a different facet of the gods.  Directly across from him was the altar, a large block of green-veined marble with carvings along the front showing scenes from the year: the sowing of the crops, the Harvestide, the rebirth of the sun; they were all there.  Beside the marble altar were two large gilded candleholders, each meant to hold three candles.  The candles currently waiting for him to light were all white, and the matches were laid out for him on the altar.  Finally, behind the altar, were the great tapestries depicting the founding of Bacovia and the heroic king leading his people to victory in the bloody wars that finally ended because of that founding.  Branden was named after that long ago king, Eryk remembered.
Figuring that he had wasted enough time, he set about lighting his vigil candles, one for each aspect of the gods: knowledge, compassion, and honesty on the one side, and strength, valor, and duty on the other.  They represented everything he was to strive for as a ruler of Bacovia, and he got the next seven hours or so to meditate on what each virtue meant and how he would strive to demonstrate these qualities in his day-to-day life.  
Oh joy, Eryk thought, as he turned and took his place at the kneeling pad that was waiting for him.  At least I don’t have to spend hours kneeling on a stone floor, he remarked to himself with a bit of a smile.
Up above, Aislynn found that she was enjoying the first part of the vigil, at least.  She really hadn't had a lot of time to get to know Eryk, and now she had what seemed like unlimited time at least to get to know what he looked like.  She admired the way his dark hair and tanned skin contrasted against the startling white of his sleeveless tunic, and she certainly appreciated the work that went into the well-defined muscles of his arms.  
He was undoubtedly an attractive man, and she knew that there were a number of young ladies in this city who had thoughts about those arms wrapped around her.  Too bad they hadn’t had the time to spend with him as she had.  That would likely change their minds.  Or at least some of them.
Aislynn sighed to herself and shook her head, knowing that she was being uncharitable.  When he wasn’t being an egotistical jerk, he had been a lot of fun to be around, like at the Ball.  But even without Branden so vehemently against her, she would never get to spend any real quality time with Eryk.
Aislynn spent some time daydreaming, scanning the room below and watching the colored light from the windows move slowly across the room, changing Eryk’s clothing a rainbow of colors.  She was startled out of her musings by a flash of movement near the front of the cathedral.  
Damn, she thought, I do hate it when I’m right about things like this.  
Moving silently along the beam in a crouch, Aislynn crept toward the front of the room and positioned herself above the tapestries.  The flicker of movement came again, the tapestry to the right swaying slightly.  She knew that someone was there, but didn't want to pounce yet in case it was just Father Jonas or another priest who had come to check up on Eryk.  They weren't supposed to be here during this time, trusting their king to perform his vigil properly, but it was easy for doubt or miscommunications to occur and it would put a damper on the coronation ceremony if it started with a dead clergyman.  She waited, muscles tensed, ready to jump.
If she hadn't been watching carefully, Aislynn would have missed him.  The assassin moved slowly and carefully, keeping pressed up against the wall to take full advantage of the shadows there.  He was dressed in an outfit colored in black and shades of gray in a molted pattern similar to her own, blurring his outline against the wall.  He carried a dagger in his mouth, with a black blade and a black handle so that the weapon wouldn't catch the light and give him away.  
At least I know that his blade isn't poisoned, Aislynn thought as she slowly drew her own daggers from their sheaths.  As soon as he was positioned to her liking, she threw the first of her knives, leaping down toward the assassin a split-second later.
Her dagger hit him in the shoulder, spinning him to face her, and she planted her feet on to his chest as she landed, knocking him flat onto his back.  Eryk, startled out of his meditations, sprang up and away from the two assassins just as the unknown man grabbed Aislynn’s ankle and pulled, sending her into a dive over his head.  She rolled as she hit the ground, coming up onto her feet and spinning to face him, dagger in hand.
“So our suspicions are correct,” the man hissed quietly.  “The king is protected.  Who are you, little girl?”
“It doesn't matter who I am,” Aislynn snarled back, circling slowly, matching her pace to his.  “All that matters is that you have lost two of your fellows so far, with an incomplete contract to show for it.  Are the losses worth it?”
“Ah, but you have also lost one of your own, don’t forget, and we have completed part of our contract.  Do you really think that you can stop us?”  He chuckled, a deep throaty sound, and he suddenly lunged toward her, dagger leading the way.
Aislynn sprang to meet him, her own dagger held out ready to parry, and they met in a flurry of knives.  He was in control, attacking her arms, her face, and her stomach.  She could do nothing but parry his attacks, unable to disengage long enough to step backwards and give herself some breathing room.  She was suddenly very grateful for the few mornings that she had spent sparring with Byron.  Her reflexes were more finely honed now than they had been when she had arrived a short while ago, but this man was far better than she was.
Suddenly, the assailant in front of her missed a beat, and seeing the opening for the trap it was, Aislynn feinted forward with her dagger, transferring her weight onto her right leg, knee bent.  Then, she suddenly pushed off her right leg, spinning in a roundhouse kick aimed at his head.  
The assassin ducked, still perfectly balanced, but his lower body position enabled Aislynn to land her kick and push off again, driving her knee into his face and forcing him backwards.  The impetus of the fight was now hers, and she followed her attack immediately with a snap kick, breaking his nose and sending blood cascading down his face.  While her opponent reeled in agony, Aislynn drove forward with her dagger, slicing across his scalp and sending more blood flowing down his face, this time into his eyes.  
Aislynn didn't dare lose her advantage, and she drove forward with her dagger again, determined to end this now.  Unfortunately, despite his pain and semi-blindness, her opponent was expecting her attack and grabbed her wrist as it shot forward.  He was still crouched, and now he straightened, using Aislynn’s momentum against her as he flung her over his head to crash into one of the stone columns headfirst.  Dazed, blood now streaming from a cut on her forehead, she staggered backwards, trying to clear her head before the killing blow came from behind.
Fortunately, the assassin had taken these few moments of respite to wipe the blood from his eyes and assess the situation, so she was able to regain her balance, but just barely.  Just as she felt the dizziness subside a little, a kick connected and Aislynn was suddenly sprawling sideways.  She felt ribs crack as she hit the ground, knocking the breath out of her.  The assassin advanced toward her quickly and eagerly, knowing that he had the advantage with her knocked prone, and Aislynn looked around desperately for a weapon to fend off the coming attacks.  
Seeing nothing nearby, she glanced back at her attacker, now very close, and prepared to defend herself as best she could.  Luck was with her, and the assassin had only brought weapons intended for close quarters, forcing him to attack her with his legs, kicked and stomping.  It was unwieldy and not terribly effective, and Aislynn was able to regain her feet in short order.  
The two assassins paused for a moment, appraising each other and the situation in which they found themselves.  They were both hurt, but neither knew how bad the injuries were for the other party.  They were both still alive, which surprised the unknown man, who had thought that Aislynn would be easy prey due to her apparent age and therefore assumed lack of experience.  
Aislynn was unarmed, having lost her dagger in her fall, but he was still holding his, which gave him some advantage.  Aislynn knew that he was weighing his options, and she knew that he would attack again, unwilling to give up the contract as lost.  She prepared herself, taking a deep breath before wincing from the cracked ribs.
When he finally charged, it was with the intention of finishing this fight quickly.  The charge was controlled, but it still left him slightly off balance, which Aislynn could see from the way he had his weight on the balls of his feet.  She waited until the last possible instant, and then stepped to the side, his dagger catching on her clothing and tearing her shirt along her midsection.  
She continued her movement, using his momentum and her own, and ended up on the far side of her assailant, the side that didn't have the dagger.  Ignoring the pain in her ribs, Aislynn kicked out twice in quick succession, first to the back of the knees and then to the kidneys.  As the assassin fell forward, nearly doubled over in pain, she stepped behind him, and with a brutal twist, snapped his neck.  He fell dead to the floor and Aislynn slumped down to the ground beside him, wanting to curl up in pain.
The whole fight had only taken a few minutes, and Eryk now ran quickly over to Aislynn.
“You saved my life,” he stated, preparing to pick her up.
“Don’t!” she cried out, stopping him in his tracks.  “It’s bad enough that there’s blood all over this church.  You don’t need blood all over your coronation garments too.  I’m fine.  Just give me a moment.  And of course I saved your life, you imbecile.  That’s why I’m here, remember?”
A few moments later, Aislynn struggled to her feet, gasping in pain, and she crouched over the dead body, searching for something.  A few seconds after that, satisfied, she flipped a coin over to Eryk.  He caught it out of the air, and turned it over.  Stamped into the side was a small, black scorpion.
“He was from the same guild as the other two,” he commented.
Aislynn just nodded as she fished around her own pocket, trying to find something.  Extracting a small gold coin of her own, she stood carefully and looked at Eryk.  Who was busy staring at her.
“What are you looking at?” she demanded.
“You,” he replied simply.  “You look…different, somehow.”
Aislynn glanced down at herself, not knowing what he could possibly be talking about.  She was dressed in her assassin’s outfit, a black and gray shirt and pants suit that fit tightly, hugging her curves.  It was torn across her midriff, exposing the pale skin of her stomach, which showed a faint red line where the dagger had brushed across her skin.  While she couldn't see it, she could feel that there was blood in her hair, matting it to her head because of her scalp injury.  Her temple was also tender when she touched it, a great big bruise just starting to form.  
“I look like a mess,” she commented.  “That is certainly different than usual, yes.  Marja would be horrified if she knew that you had seen me like this.  She goes to great lengths to make me presentable, you know.”
Aislynn leaned over and dropped the coin she was holding on to the body.
“What’s that for?” Eryk asked, nodding toward the coin sitting on the body.
“You see that coin in your hand?  The one I just dropped is my equivalent to that.  Leave it with the body so that they know there’s another guild involved.  From what he said, they suspected it already.”
“They?  You mean that there are more of them?  Here?”
“I suspect that there is at least one more in the city right now,” Aislynn explained.  “The contract is out on both you and your father, and they initially attacked you as a pair.  When that pair failed, they sent more guild members, which would explain the delay between those initial attacks and the one on your father yesterday.  
“Chances are, this is the assassin who killed your father, and he was trying to finish the contract by killing you too.  He should have a partner around the city somewhere, and when his partner comes to examine the body, which he will, it would be best if he found my coin.  It may discourage them from continuing, though I doubt it.”
“So now what?” Eryk asked, looking around at the mess.
“Now I’m going to go get those guards of yours outside, they are going to claim responsibility for killing this guy, you will return to your vigil, and I’m going to see a healer.”
“Will you be at the coronation ceremony?” he asked anxiously, causing Aislynn to look over at him suspiciously.
“I thought you didn't want to see me anywhere near you,” she commented acidly.
“I said that before, when I was angry and hurt.  This is now, after all of this,” he said, gesturing to the body.  “Now I know that you meant everything that you said, I know you didn't kill my father, and I didn't honestly know that before.  I know I don’t need to be afraid of you.”
“You just saw me kill someone, literally with my bare hands, and now you decide that you don’t need to be afraid of me.  Sometimes, I have serious concerns for your mental aptitude.”  Aislynn smiled slightly and continued.  “I'll try to be there, but I won’t guarantee it.  Cheta should be around here somewhere, and I'll make sure she stays nearby, but you should be fine for at least the rest of the day.”
Aislynn started to walk toward the doors to get the guards when Eryk’s voice stopped her.
“Aislynn, thank you,” he said quietly, “and I really am sorry about yesterday.”
Aislynn nodded dismissively, and went to fetch the guards, explaining what she wanted when they entered.  She remembered these two from yesterday, and they had no difficulty with her orders.  Granted, considering it was very obvious that Byron was okay with Aislynn and these two were his lieutenants, it was always possible that they simply didn’t dare disobey her.  
With another nod to Eryk, she slipped out the door and headed back to the castle after a brief meeting the Cheta, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible.
It took her quite awhile to reach her destination, and when she arrived, she went immediately to the guards’ barracks, looking for Byron.  She found him in his office, a room she had seen the day before.
“Hey, do you suppose you could find me a healer?” she asked, startling him.  His eyes widened as he took in her appearance.
“What happened?” he asked quietly, a shocked look on his face.
“Do I really look that bad?” she asked with a smile.  “Summon a healer for me, and I'll fill you in on the details.”
By the time the healer arrived, Aislynn was basically finished with her explanation, and the healer asked no questions.  
The wound in her scalp required five stitches, and the healer bound her ribs for her, supporting the three cracked bones so that they would be able to heal properly.  She was directed not to get the bandages wet, and was told that she could remove them only to apply the salve he gave her, but then she needed to replace them.  The healer would remove them permanently in a couple of days, and until then, she was to be careful with her movements.  
As the healer left, he gave her a packet of herbs she could use to numb the pain.  Byron, who had been waiting outside the closed door while the healer attended his patient, came back in.
“So what’s going to happen now?” he asked her.
“I honestly don’t know, but I suspect there will be another attack, likely soon.  I left a coin with the body, but I don’t really think it will be much of a deterrent.  I’m not going to be at my best for the next few days, so I’m going to need your help to keep him safe.”
Byron nodded his agreement to both aspects of that statement.  “You should go and get cleaned up,” he said.  “I assume you’re planning to attend the ceremony?”
Aislynn nodded as she rose, slowly and carefully.  “I'll see you there,” she said as she turned to go.
When Aislynn got back to her rooms, Marja paled at the sight of her, but didn't comment as she got hot water to help Aislynn wash the blood out of her hair.  Then Aislynn cleaned the rest of herself as best she could around the bandages and let Marja help her dress.  
The severe black dress stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin, made paler than usual from blood loss.  Trying to make the effect less startling, Marja selected some jewelry set with yellow topaz stones to complement the outfit, twining some into her hair to match the necklace and bracelet she would wear.  She also applied a few cosmetics to give Aislynn the appearance of some healthy color.
Finally ready for the ceremony, Marja looked her over and nodded in acceptance of her appearance.
“Would you like me to come with you?” she asked.
Aislynn thought about it for a moment, and then nodded.  “It will be something to see, I’m sure,” she replied, “and I’m sure that I could use the support, especially if Branden sees me there.”
It took only a few minutes for Marja to get ready, something that constantly made Aislynn jealous of her friend, and then the two of them set off for the cathedral, joining the growing crowd of people heading in that direction.
When they arrived, Aislynn’s rank allowed her to move up to the front of the crowd, and she was careful to pick a spot on the opposite side of the mass from Branden.  She saw no need to aggravate the already tense situation between them.  
Right at the stroke of noon, the bells of the cathedral calling the hour, Eryk walked out of the church, flanked by his guards.  He looked relaxed as he scanned the crowd surreptitiously, and she noticed a slight smile touch his lips when he saw her.  She smiled back.  The ceremony then proceeded without any difficulties, and when it was over, Bacovia had a new king.
After the ceremony concluded, Cheta rejoined Aislynn and Marja, and the three of them made their way back to the castle.  Aislynn was feeling very sore and tired, and decided that she would take the herbs the healer had given her and retire.  She was hoping the rest would help her aching ribs heal faster.
As Eryk proceeded back to the castle, in a slow procession through the city so that the citizens could see their new king first hand, Branden joined him.
“What was she doing there?” he demanded.  With that tone of voice, there was no point asking Branden to which she he was referring.
“Would you just lay off?” Eryk asked.  “She’s currently the representative from Evendell, a kingdom that we have very tight and important diplomatic relations with.  It was totally appropriate that she be there for my coronation.”
“So are you going to forgive her for lying to you?  Going to let her near you again so that she can stab you in the back?”  Branden’s voice was rising as he was demanding his questions, and the look in his eyes frightened Eryk a little.  What was going on with his friend?
“Relax, Branden.  You don’t need to worry about that.”  There, he thought, that should be open ended enough to satisfy him.  Eryk didn't want to provoke him, especially not in public.  He’d have to ask Aislynn to see if she could figure out what was going on with him.  Maybe her special skills would be helpful.  Branden’s actions were very unlike him, and Eryk didn’t think that it was just power going to his head.
When they finally reached the castle, Eryk was disappointed that Aislynn wasn’t there to greet him, but he was very careful not to let that show.  Instead, Alexius was grinning and waving to him.  When he approached, she rushed up and flung herself into his arms, planting a demure kiss on his cheek.
“Welcome home, your Majesty,” she breathed softly into his ear, her voice hinting that the welcome could be more than a simple kiss, if he wanted it to be.  Eryk was startled to find himself wishing that it were someone else whispering those invitations.
As he gently placed Alexius back down on to the ground, he couldn't help but notice Branden’s smile of approval.  He wondered what his friend would do if he discovered that it wasn’t Alexius that Eryk was thinking of.  He decided that it was likely best for everyone if Branden never found that out.  Taking Alexius by the hand, Eryk led the way into the castle and to the dining hall to break his fast.  It certainly wouldn’t do any harm to humor Alexius, and maybe it would do some good.  If Branden saw him paying more attention to his sister, then maybe he really would lay off about Aislynn.  
Eryk didn’t know much, but right now, he did know that he didn’t want Aislynn to go anywhere.  He was rather glad that he was apparently stuck with her around his court.



Chapter 15

Aislynn rolled over, groaning in pain.  Her whole body hurt, with areas of excruciating agony located around her ribs and her head.  She opened her eyes slowly, wondering how long she’d been sleeping.  Considering the darkness of her room, she figured that it was just a little while before dawn, her regular waking time. Her movements dislodged Cheta, who was curled up at her feet, and the wolf moved up to lie alongside her mistress.
“So what do you make of this sorry state?” Aislynn asked, scratching the wolf behind the ears.  “I’m quite a mess, aren't I?”  
The wolf just whined in agreement, and stretched her head onto Aislynn’s lap, a clear invitation for her to continue her scratching.  Aislynn smiled, and complied with the request.
“Let’s recap, shall we?  Since our arrival, Tarren is dead, Branden hates me with a passion unlike anything I've ever seen before, and Eryk, who I’m supposed to be guarding, had banished me from his sight.  At least he’s changed his mind about that one, but with Branden around so often, I might as well stay out in the guards’ barracks.”
Aislynn sighed, and continued.  “That’s something that has been bothering me.  How can a man go from simply seeing me as a rival for Eryk’s affections to someone who hates me with a murderous obsession and who would do anything to get rid of me, all in the space of five or six days?  That is pretty odd, wouldn't you agree, Cheta?”
Aislynn sat up very slowly, testing her body’s aches and pains, and got up out of bed.  She moved carefully around the room, finding a long skirt and a loose blouse to wear.  She knew that regardless of anything else that happened today, she was in no shape for anything that would require her to dress less ladylike than this.
“Let’s go see Byron,” she called to Cheta, leaving the room.  “Perhaps he has some insight into Branden’s behavior.”
When she arrived at their usual meeting place, Aislynn was surprised and relieved to find Byron there, practicing by himself.  Byron’s eyes widened in disbelief when he saw her.  She moved slowly and deliberately, trying not to jar her injured ribs, and on her temple was a massive purple and black bruise, centered on the stitches the healer had put in the morning before. 
“You don’t honestly expect to spar today, do you?” he asked as he walked over to her.
“Of course not!  I’m not insane, despite what you may think.  I've had enough injuries to know to listen to the healers.  I’m a creature of habit though, so since I was awake, I just came to touch base.  I’m curious about what happened yesterday while I slept, and I want to ask your opinion of a few things, that’s all.”
Byron relaxed visibly, and he smiled.  Taking her elbow and using her present condition as an excuse to touch her, he led the way back into the building and toward his office.  He honestly couldn't say for certain if Aislynn was sane or not – look at her job, after all – but he was happy that she had the sense not to push things too much.  His growing concern for Aislynn’s health and wellbeing was something that he decided to look at more closely later.
“I’m not sure if it means anything,” Byron began when the two of them were settled, “but my boys reported that the Madelian emissaries are currently stationing only one guard outside of their rooms instead of the regular two.  It’s possible that something totally innocent is going on, like the guard is sick or something, but…”
“But it’s also possible that I killed that other ‘guard’ yesterday morning.  That is interesting, and it would explain how the assassins keep getting so close to the royal family without anyone seeing them.  Guards are essentially invisible, no offence, so one moving around the castle wouldn't be noticed or remarked on.  Fascinating.”
“I'll keep an eye on them, like I said, and I'll let you know what happens.  Now, I assume you didn't hobble all the way out here just for that little update.  What’s on your mind?”
“I didn't hobble at all, thank you very much,” Aislynn replied sourly, but she decided not to pursue the comment.  “What do you know about Branden?”
“Aside from the fact that he doesn't like you?” Byron answered with a smile.
“I mean, what does he do when he’s not with Eryk?  Does he gamble?  Does he drink?”
“I don’t really know, and I've never had a reason to want to know.  Why?”
“Well, his behavior has been really strange, I think, and it’s becoming stranger.  When I first got here, all of six days ago, he was joking with me at the table about Eryk’s fear of commitment.  A few days later, he was informing me that Eryk was going to marry Alexius and he was going to get rid of me.  The next day, he’s threatening me, and the slightest mention of my name sends him into a rage.  I’m wondering what happened between the first day and the fourth, and why is it getting worse?”
“That is strange, I'll admit.  I know that Branden cares deeply for his sister, and I could understand wanting to get rid of a possible rival for her, but for his behavior to continue to escalate is odd.  I'll see what I can do to keep an eye on him too, since you’re obviously not up to it.”
Aislynn smiled with gratitude.  “Thanks a lot, Byron,” she said as she stood to leave.  “And give me a couple of days and I'll be back here.  The ribs are just cracked, after all, not broken.”  She threw him a wink, and then headed back to the castle proper.
Byron watched her walk out of his office and shook his head.  It is hard to keep up with that woman, he thought to himself, but it certainly is fun to try.


Eryk stood at the window in his room, looking out over the castle and part of the city beyond the castle walls.  It was another gorgeous summer day, perfect for spending outside.  Too bad he had yet another official duty to attend.  Today, he would lay his father’s body in state in the cathedral, and Eryk would need to be on hand all day while the citizens of Bacovia paid their respects and passed along their condolences.  He really hoped that the blood from yesterday was all cleaned up, because otherwise there would be some rather awkward questions posed.
Suddenly he felt cool hands brush up along his arms, and then his cheeks, before finally coming to rest covering his eyes.  “Guess who?” someone whispered softly in his ear.
“Oh Alexius, stop it,” he said.  “I don’t have time for these silly games.”  He grasped the woman’s wrists and turned to face her.  Except he wasn’t greeted with bright blue eyes.  Instead, he found deep brown eyes greeting him.  It wasn’t Alexius who had come to his rooms, but Aislynn.
Eryk was still holding onto her wrists and he pulled her arms out wide, stepping toward her.  He wrapped his arms around her long, muscular body, pulling her even closer, acting on the invitation.  He could feel how strong she was as she resisted his embrace, just a little, before giving in and allowing him to pull her into his arms.  
This was a woman he could love, a woman he could spend time with while doing the things he loved.  She would never be a burden to him, never expect him to wait on her hand and foot while she languished in her deathbed as his mother had…  He shook that thought away and concentrated on Aislynn’s face as he bent closer.  She winced a little as he squeezed her ribs just a little too tightly, but she didn't complain.  Aislynn tilted her face up slightly toward his, eagerly awaiting their first kiss, and Eryk leaned down, lips brushing across her cheek softly, tenderly.
“We need to break off diplomatic relations!”
Eryk jumped back, surprised by the unexpected voice.  The back of his head connected with the headboard of his bed as he startled awake.  It was just a dream, none of it real, he thought bitterly to himself.  He was alone in his room.  Well, not quite alone, he thought as he turned his head toward the intruder.  
“Branden, what are you doing here?  It’s barely dawn and I had a rather long day yesterday, if you remember.  And I have a rather long day ahead of me today too.  Go away.”  Eryk slid back down under his covers, pulling the blanket up over his head, clearly wanting Branden to be gone.
“I said that we need to break off diplomatic relations with Evendell.  The king will be here for your father’s funeral, and we can make all of the arrangements before he gets here, so he'll only have to sign the paperwork.  Then we can send that creature away once and for all, and everyone will be the happier for it.”
Or I'll be the deader for it, Eryk thought wryly to himself.  And considering his dream, he was reasonably sure that he wouldn’t be happy if Aislynn was gone.  Then another thought occurred to him.  When had Branden begun to refer to Aislynn solely by descriptive nouns?
“I can’t do that, Branden.  We have a mutual protection pact with Evendell.  Aislynn is here to protect me, and we are expected to protect Evendell if needed.  Besides, we have very profitable trade agreements with Evendell.  They produce the finest gold, ore and gems of any of the surrounding kingdoms.”
Branden’s face was getting darker and darker, the rage building up inside of him the longer Eryk spoke.  It was obvious to Eryk that Branden would not be happy with anything less than full banishment for Aislynn, but Eryk was not prepared to do that.  Especially not after yesterday’s incident, and certainly not if his dream had any real meaning to it.
“I see,” Branden said, finally.  “If that’s how you want it, then so be it.  You’re the ruler, after all.”  And he turned and strode out of the room.
Eryk sighed, confused by his friend’s behavior.  It had become steadily worse all week, his mood getting darker with each passing day.  He knew that Aislynn was at the heart of it, somehow, but he had no idea why.  He decided to find a way to look into it, somehow.
Shaking his head, he rolled over to try to get a little bit more sleep before it was time to face what promised to be a most boring day.  If I’m lucky, he thought to himself, I'll get to star in that dream again.


When Branden left Eryk’s suite, practically slamming the door behind him, his anger distracted him so thoroughly that he didn't see Durham until he had nearly run him down.  Branden stopped just short of physical contact, eying the man, and wondering what he was doing here outside of Eryk’s rooms.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Not really, no,” replied Durham.  “I’m here to see his Majesty, not you, which is why I’m at his door and not yours.”
“Well he’s sleeping,” snapped Branden.
“I doubt that, since you left just a few seconds ago.  I'll just see for myself, thank you.”  Durham stepped around Branden and knocked on the door.  Branden just huffed and stormed away, rubbing his temples as if his head pained him.
Durham smiled.  Branden and Eryk were obviously fighting, and something had been going on between Eryk and Aislynn for the past couple of days…  It was all falling into place.
A few moments later, Eryk answered door.  He appeared startled to see Durham standing there.  
“Your Majesty,” Durham said, “I have been sent to wake you and make sure that you are prepared for the service today.”
Eryk groaned and moved aside to let him in.  So much for that dream, he thought as he walked back into his bedroom to dress.  Durham sat down on the couch in the reception room, making himself comfortable, before continuing.
“As you know, you will lead the procession through the city to the cathedral.  Once you have arrived, there will be a brief ceremony while your father's body is laid in state.  You then need to remain in the cathedral for the rest of the day while the citizens of the city, and anyone else from the surrounding area, come to pay their respects.  The service will end at sundown.”
“Do I have to stand all day, or do I get a chair?” called Eryk from the next room.
Durham laughed.  “No, your Majesty, you get to sit down.  You don't get to eat, however, so I would advise you to have a good breakfast.”
“That's good to know.”
“Well, if you have no further questions, I will excuse myself.  I will see you at the breakfast table shortly, your Majesty.”
Shortly after Durham left, there came another knock at the door.
“Who is it now?” Eryk yelled from his bedroom.  “Go away!  I'm trying to get ready here!”
“Certainly, if that's what you want,” came a quiet voice from the other room.
Eryk recognized that voice, and quickly grabbing his shirt, he rushed into the other room.
“Wait,” he called, just as she was about to close the door behind her, “come back for a few minutes.”
“I thought you were busy,” Aislynn remarked with a smile, coming back into the room as he had asked.  She looked at him speculatively, eyeing his muscled stomach and naked chest.  She quirked an eyebrow and looked him in the eye.
“I am...I mean I was, but I wanted to talk with you.”  He was stumbling over his words.  That can't be a good sign, Eryk thought to himself, but having her actually here in his rooms brought back memories of that wonderful dream.  He stepped closer to her, letting his shirt drop to the ground.
“Aislynn, I...  Oh my gosh!” He stopped, looking at her intently.  “Does that hurt?  I mean, of course it hurts, but does it hurt much?”  As he asked the question, Eryk ran his fingers ever so lightly along Aislynn’s temple, brushing her hair away from her stitches.
 “It doesn't hurt as much as you’d think it would,” she replied.  
After her visit with Byron, she had returned to her room to get dressed properly, and Marja had shown her the injuries in a mirror.  The cut on her temple didn't look too bad, but the bruise it had caused had spread halfway across her forehead and down her cheek on that side.  It was a lovely mottled purple and black.
“This,” she said, gesturing to her face, “is why I'm here.  I'm not sure Marja will be able to hide it, regardless of how talented she is, and it would raise too many questions if somebody sees me in public like this.  You don't need any more awkwardness at the beginning of your reign.”
“I don't care about awkwardness or questions.  I'd prefer to have you there with me.”
Aislynn thought that Eryk was just being sweet until she started to pay attention to the feelings she was sensing from him.  She was starting to get used to having his emotions in the back of her head, and now she had to concentrate on them to read them.  Through the link she shared with him, Aislynn could feel the way Eryk really felt about her.  He cared for her, and he felt...protective.
“Aislynn, I wanted to ask you something,” Eryk continued, suddenly making up his mind.  “You know that I have a really short time frame now and...well...I was wondering if...”
“Eryk, stop!” she interrupted.  “You don't know what you're saying.  Two days ago, you hated me and never wanted to see me again.  Then suddenly, yesterday, you saw me actually do my job, I saved your life, and now you’re feeling…  You're obviously still dealing with everything that happened, and you don’t…  You don’t need to protect me, okay?”
“I know what I said the other day, but that wasn’t me, at least not entirely.  It was Branden, and he said those horrible, untrue things.”
“And what about Branden?  He’s been your friend for your whole life, and you know that he hates me, and that he wants you to choose Alexius.  You should choose her – she’s better for you.”
“You can’t tell me who to choose, and you don’t know what’s right for me.  Nobody knows that, including Branden.  I get to make this decision!”
Eryk was getting angry, but underneath, Aislynn could still feel his certainty that he loved her, and that nagging feeling that he needed to protect her.  Aislynn didn't know how to express her thoughts and feelings right now, but she knew that Eryk did not honestly want to ask her that question.  That could never work.
“I'm sorry I won't be able to be there today,” she said, and she turned and fled the room before the conversation could escalate, and before he could get around to asking her properly.  She left Eryk standing there, uncertainty about what had just happened keeping him frozen in place until after she was well and truly gone.
“What did I do?” he asked aloud.  “And what does she mean she doesn't need to be protected?  I know that!”  But did he?  Was there some part of him that had seen her injuries and had wanted to keep her safe?  Well maybe, but wasn’t that part of a husband’s job?
Regardless, he knew what he wanted, despite what she had said.  If she thought it was the stress of yesterday's assassination attempt making him ask, then he'd just have to wait another couple of days before trying again.  He did have another six days before the council’s imposed deadline, after all.  However, he was determined that his bride would be Aislynn, not Alexius.  The two of them were the only ladies he had danced with that he could even remember, and Aislynn was the only one of the two of them that he wanted to be with for any length of time.  It had to be her.
It was with a considerably lighter heart that Eryk completed his preparations that morning.  He felt so relieved to have finally made that all-important decision, and it was definitely one that he could live with, which was a lot more than he had expected.  Getting her to agree was just a minor inconvenience that he’d work on.  
Eryk stopped suddenly, his happy mood abruptly ended.  Durham had told him to have a good breakfast, and Alexius would be there in the dining hall, just as she’d been there yesterday and the day before.  He couldn't lead her on and make her think that she had a chance when he’d already decided on Aislynn.  In addition, Branden would be there too, and Branden was already angry with him.  Branden’s behavior had become so erratic lately, Eryk was afraid of his reaction if he didn't pay court to Alexius this morning.  What a mess!
Well, he thought to himself, Aislynn told me that I should pick Alexius, and she hasn't said yes yet, so I guess that I can at least spend breakfast with Alexius.  I won’t do anything to make her think that I’m going to choose her though.
He figured that this route would be safe enough.  Everyone would be happy, or at least, almost everyone.  His happy mood restored, Eryk proceeded down to the dining hall.


Aislynn would have run back to her room if it weren't for her injuries.  She had never felt emotions this strong before, from Eryk or from herself.  She could feel the gambit of his emotions now: confusion when she left, decisiveness overlaid with happiness, anxiety and then happiness again.  She could only imagine the thoughts Eryk had to go along with these emotions, but she was pretty sure that he was not going to take her advice. 
She knew that he couldn't go ahead with his little plan unless she agreed, so she’d just have to make sure that she didn't say or do anything that could be construed as agreement.  But she had to be careful.  She did have to work with him, and live with him, after all.  She couldn't afford to make his life miserable by not agreeing to marry him, just as she couldn't afford to make his life miserable by saying yes.  
And what about Byron?  The captain hadn’t said anything, but she knew that he was starting to have feelings for her too.  If Aislynn was honest with herself, she had to admit that a match with Byron would be more suited to her temperament and interests, but she wasn’t interested in marrying anyone.  This was definitely a mess.  Maybe Marja would have some ideas to help.



Chapter 16

Eryk managed to get through breakfast with his honor intact, at least as far as he was concerned, but the meal was miserable.  Branden had spent the whole meal glaring at him, and he had seemed even angrier than he had been first thing in the morning, if that was possible.  Eryk had let Alexius lead the conversation, and he had made a number of non-committal noises.  He felt that it was better to do that than to pretend to show interest in what she was saying, just in case she misconstrued his intentions.
As soon as the meal was over, Eryk hurried out of the room as if to finish his preparations for the procession, but he actually lurked around in the corridor waiting for Byron.  Since Byron also had preparations to finalize, he didn't have to wait long.
“Excuse me, Captain, may I speak with you?” Eryk asked, stepping out practically in front of Byron as he walked down the hall.
“Of course, your Majesty.  What can I help you with?”
Eryk knew that the others would soon be coming this way, so he gestured to Byron to follow him, and the two men made their way to Eryk’s study.  Eryk shut the door behind them.
“What is it?” Byron asked, a little concerned about the secrecy.
Eryk wasn’t entirely certain where to begin.  He decided to just come right out and say it, without beating around the bush.
“Have you noticed anything strange about Branden’s behavior recently?” he asked.
“Not really, no, but I don’t spend a lot of time with him,” Byron answered honestly.
“Well he’s been very angry, and the slightest things send him off into a rage,” Eryk explained.  “He used to be a totally different person.”
“I'll take your word for it.  I suppose that you’d like me to keep an eye on him and see if I can discover anything?” Byron asked.
“How did you know that?” Eryk asked in reply, shock evident in his voice.
Byron laughed.  “Because the princess asked me to do the same thing this morning.”
“This morning?  When did you see her this morning?”  Eryk knew that she had come to see him this morning, and breakfast was served pretty much right after their meeting, so when had she had time to visit Byron?
“She came to see me at dawn, the way she usually does,” he explained.
Eryk felt jealously flare.  “She comes to see you every morning at dawn?” he asked, forcing the words out very slowly.
Byron wasn’t a stupid man, and he sensed the emotion behind those careful words.  Eryk’s eyes blazed with anger fuelled by jealousy, so Byron chose his next words very carefully.
“Her Highness has been coming to the barracks each dawn since she arrived, to spar with me for practice and exercise.  Rupert used to do the same thing.  Due to the secrecy of her position, she can’t exactly exercise in a more open fashion, now can she?”
Byron watched the tension ease just a little from Eryk’s shoulders with the explanation.  He knew now that he was going to have to be very careful around Eryk, at least if the topic of conversation was Aislynn.  Byron wondered if she knew, and made a mental note to ask her about it tomorrow.  He’d always known that he didn’t stand a chance with her, but part of him still wished that the king hadn’t just made his intentions so very clear.
“Well, if there isn't anything else, I should be going, your Majesty,” Byron continued.  “I have a number of things that need to be done before the procession can begin, and I’m sure you have things to do as well.  I will let you know if I discover anything about Lord Branden and his behavior.”
Eryk moved aside from the door, distracted by his thoughts, and Byron left.  Eryk couldn't believe how strong the jealousy had been, just at the mere thought that Aislynn might be spending time with another man, no matter how innocently.  He had already decided that she was the perfect woman to be his bride, but now he realized that he was truly infatuated with her.  Eryk shook his head and left the study, hurrying to his room to complete his final preparations.  He would need time to sort out his feelings.
A short time later, Eryk was in the castle courtyard, ready to depart.  The procession would be on horseback, for safety.  Everyone expected that the streets between the castle and the cathedral would be very crowded, and nobody wanted anyone to be injured.
Eryk led the procession astride his large black stallion, and immediately following him was his father’s body.  The healers had arranged him on a white-draped bier, dressed in his amour and holding his sword.  They had also renewed the minor magic used to preserve the body, getting it ready for seven days of viewing.  The bier, strewn with roses and other flowers, was set into a cradle of sorts and carried by four white horses.  Once they reached the cathedral, the cradle would be lowered to the ground and the bier carried into the church for the ceremony and viewing.
Everyone else in the castle that was planning to attend the ceremony and pay their respects also gathered in the courtyard, and they would sort themselves out to follow Eryk and Tarren’s body.  Eryk scanned the crowd, looking for Aislynn’s gelding or Cheta, but he couldn't spot either of them.  He did think that he caught sight of a rampant bear though, Evendell’s royal crest.  
It took the procession about an hour to arrive at the cathedral, about three times as long as it would have taken if the streets hadn't been so crowded.  Eryk was happy to see that his father had been well loved at least, but he was also a little frustrated by the necessity of moving through the city at a very slow walk.  
When they reached the cathedral, Eryk dismounted and entered, flanked by two guards while four more carried the bier through the great double doors.  Looking around, Eryk was grateful to see that the damage done by yesterday’s fight had been cleaned up and repaired.  The bier was laid upon the large marble alter that Eryk had prayed at the day before, and Eryk took his place at his father’s head.  The priests had provided a padded chair for him to sit on, and he knew that he would be grateful for the padding by the time the sun touched the horizon.  Father Jonas said a few words over the body, and the viewing officially began.
The first people to pay their respects were the council members, followed by Lord Collin, Branden and Alexius.  Lord Collin looked like he had not slept since Tarren had died, and Eryk supposed that it was possible.  He knew that the two of them had been very close, and he hoped that Collin wouldn't be following his father to an early grave.  Collin expressed his heartfelt condolences, which his daughter echoed.  Branden just glared at Eryk until the rest of his family had finished what they had come to say.
“This would have been better if you had your fiancée at your side,” Branden growled, with a pointed look at Alexius, before he moved on.  Eryk just sighed and wondered if he was going to have to find another chief advisor, preferably one who wouldn't detest the future queen.
Next in line were Kardon and Sookra, flanked by a pair of guards.  They all bowed at the waist, and the ambassadors expressed their condolences for his loss.
“We understand the pressure you were under the other day,” Kardon said.  “We would like another opportunity to meet with you and your advisor, to see if some agreement can be reached.  Perhaps now that some time has passed, everyone will be able to look upon the treaty with a fresh perspective.”
Eryk knew that despite the fact that he had said “everyone”, the emissary really meant Eryk.  Eryk also knew that he did not intend to give up the lands the Madelians were after, but at least there was no harm in trying to negotiate again, so he agreed, arranging a meeting for the following day.
He glanced over to see who was next in line, and was relieved to see a guard bearing Evendell’s crest.  He looked at the woman next in line with anticipation, a smile beginning on his face, but was disappointed.
“Your Majesty,” she began, “the princess asked me to express her deepest apologies that she is not able to attend personally.  She also wanted me to convey the regrets of Evendell for the passing of your father.”  
Marja curtsied, a sad and understanding smile on her face, and then moved on.  Eryk wondered just what Aislynn had told her, but knew that neither of the women would ever disclose that information to him.  He greeted the next person in line, and settled in for a long day.



Chapter 17

Once Aislynn returned to her room, she told Marja everything.  The two of them had been friends for their entire lives, and Aislynn considered Marja her closest friend, after Cheta.  Cheta was always great to talk to, but if she wanted an interactive conversation, then Marja was the person to see.  
“I don’t know what to do!” Aislynn whined.
“Well,” Marja began, “didn't you come here knowing that this could be a possibility?  I know that you’re officially here to be his bodyguard, but still, everyone thinks you’re here as a potential bride.”  
“I guess I knew that it was technically a possibility, but I never really expected it to happen.  I figured that I’d be in the background enough, and that there would be others for him to choose.”  
“And then there’s Byron,” Aislynn continued after a few moments of silence.  “He has become a really good friend, and…  What is father going to say when he gets here?”
“I suspect that the first thing he'll do is laugh,” Marja said with a smile.  She knew how much Aislynn disliked the formality of royalty, and she knew that Jackob knew it too.  “You don’t have to accept Eryk’s proposal, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Aislynn replied.
“But?” Marja prompted.
“But I don’t want to hurt him.  I experience his feelings for me, and they are pretty intense, at least for now.  If I say no, I know that he'll be crushed, and I'll not only have to experience that, but I'll have to live with him afterwards.”
“So say yes,” Marja said, the answer seeming obvious to her.  Aislynn looked at her like she’d grown another head.
“I can’t!” she gasped, horrified.  “The most important duty for a queen is to provide an heir to the throne.  I can’t do my job if I’m pregnant and as huge as a house!  I can’t be both roles for him.”
Marja just shook her head.  “Well, if you can’t say no, and you can’t say yes, what are you going to do?”  She thought that Aislynn was just making excuses.
“I'll just have to keep him from asking me,” she said resolutely.  “And I need you to go to the viewing for me.”
“Excuse me?  I can’t do that; that’s your responsibility.”
“Have you looked at me recently?” Aislynn asked, gesturing to her bruised face.  “Don’t you think I’d stand out a little?”
“Fine,” Marja agreed.  “I'll go, but you’d better go see the healers about some more of that salve for your face.”  
As she left the room, Marja turned back to look at the princess.  
“You can’t hide up here forever, regardless of what you’d like to do.  Those injuries will be healed soon, and then you’re going to have to face him yourself.”  Then Marja left, off do to Aislynn’s duty, shutting the door behind her.
Aislynn knew that Marja was right, and she had no idea how to convince Eryk to find someone else.  She was attracted to him, she at least had to admit that to herself, but she knew that her future here did not involve a walk down the aisle – not with either of the men currently in her life.  Oh well, she’d come up with something.  
Aislynn stood and stretched carefully, testing her cracked ribs.  She could only imagine what her body looked like under the bandages, but it was as good a time to find out as any other time.  She gathered herself, and set off downstairs to find the healers.  She knew that they had a suite of rooms in the castle somewhere, but hadn't been there yet.  
It took her awhile a find, but eventually Aislynn knocked on the door that the servants had informed her led to the healers’ rooms.  Sure enough, a man wearing healer’s robes answered the door promptly.  He looked very surprised to see her standing there, and Aislynn guessed that it was customary for healers to be summoned rather than the patients seeking them out.  Besides, one would expect that the visiting princess of a kingdom with such tight bonds to Bacovia would be at the ceremony, not here in the castle.
“Um…Princess Aislynn?  What can I do for you?”
He didn't seem surprised by the bruises on her face, so she supposed that the healer who had treated her yesterday must have told his colleagues about her injuries.
“I was hoping for some more salve for these bruises,” she explained with a smile, “and I wanted someone to take a look at my ribs.  The bandages are quite uncomfortable, and I’d prefer not to wear them if I don’t have to.”
“Oh,” he said, “come right in.”
He was an unassuming man, the kind that would blend into a crowd.  He had brown hair, was average height and had an average build.  He hadn't given his name, and Aislynn didn't ask, knowing that he was so plain that she’d forget all about him as soon as she left.  She followed the healer into the main reception area of the suite, and then off into a small side room.
“Let’s take a look, shall we?”  The healer indicated that she should undress, and he unwrapped the bandages from around her chest with quick, practiced movements.  She felt a twinge of pain as the pressure of the bandages eased, and glancing down, she was greeted with the sight of huge bruises covering the entire side of her body, from shoulder to hip.  Fortunately, the salve the healer had put on underneath the bandages seemed to be doing a good job, and about half of the bruises were already the yellow color of older, healing injuries.
The healer probed her injured ribs delicately, but thoroughly, saying nothing.  Aislynn winced in pain now and again, but was surprised by how little they actually hurt.  When he was finally satisfied with his examination, he pronounced his verdict.
“The ribs are healing very well, and you will not have to wear the bandages if you don’t want to.  I will give you more salve, which you should apply tonight and again in the morning, to both your ribs and your face.  The bruising will likely be gone in a few days, and the ribs should be fine in two or three days.  You heal very quickly.”
The relieved look on her face must have given her away, because he wasn’t quite finished with her.
“I know that you are eager to exercise and what not, but you need to be careful for another few days.  You may do some stretches tomorrow, but nothing more.  Do you understand me young lady?”
Aislynn nodded.  When he spoke to her like that, he reminded her of her old Master, and it was taking your life into your own hands to argue with him.  He was apparently satisfied with her agreement, and indicated that she could dress.  
While she waited for the healer to return with the salve he had promised, she suddenly overheard a couple of gentlemen speaking quietly together in the hall, coming closer to her room.  She moved closer to the slightly open door, simply curious about what they could be discussing.  To her profound surprise, it turned out to be something she had personal interest in.
“I know that he still suffers from the head pains.  For one, that sort of thing doesn't just stop overnight, and for another, he’s been seen by various people rubbing his temples,” said the first voice.
“Well he must be getting medication from somewhere then,” commented the second voice, “or he’d have died by now.”
“It definitely isn't from any of us,” the first voice commented.  “Nobody has seen him here in over a week.  He should have run out of the previous dose about five days ago.”
“I hope he isn't doing something stupid, like taking an untried medication.  Who knows what kind of side effects those things can have, and we need him of sound mind if he’s going to be advising the king.”
Aislynn stepped hastily back from the door.  They were talking about Branden!  What sort of medication does he need to take, she wondered.  And why hasn't he been taking it?  She was about to step back to the door, to listen further, when the door swung open.
“Here is your salve,” the healer said.  “Make sure you continue to use it twice a day, and please be careful.”
Aislynn thanked the man and left, not wanting to appear interested in the other men in the hall.  She wondered briefly if any of them knew who she was, exactly, but decided that it really didn't matter.  What did matter was that Branden had some form of medical condition, and the healers were worried about him.  Could this be the key to his behavior that she was looking for?
  


Chapter 18

“Does Branden have some sort of medical condition?” Aislynn asked, stretching her arms out to the right at waist level, her back parallel to the ground.
“Yes,” Byron answered, watching Aislynn bend, stretch and show off that wonderful body of hers.  “He’s been prone to devastating head pains since he was a small child.  Why do you ask?”
“I went to see the healers yesterday, to get some more salve for these lovely bruises, and while I was there, I overheard a couple of healers talking about Branden.  He hasn't been there to get his normal medications in quite some time,” Aislynn explained as she slowly stretched her muscles and ribs, straightening and reaching her arms up toward the sky.  “They were concerned about the possibility that he has been experimenting with some other medicine, perhaps something unknown.”
Byron just watched as Aislynn stretched, appreciating the view as he always did, as he mulled that over.  “That possibility would certainly go along with what my boys reported yesterday,” he said finally.
“Oh?” Aislynn asked, dropping her hands toward the ground now, and reaching for her left ankle.
“I had a couple of guards head out into the city following Branden when he went off on his own, like you requested.  I sent a pair of them so that if anyone asked, they could say that they were off duty and on leave.  They followed him as far as the marketplace before losing him amongst some stalls, but they reported that the area of the market he was in is the one where they sell all sorts of herbs and plants.  They managed to spot him again a few hours later, still in that area, coming out of a tavern in the company of some of our Madelian friends.”
“I wonder what sort of thing could cause Branden’s anger and aggression while still suppressing his headaches,” Aislynn asked aloud, reaching now for her right ankle.  “And I wonder if he’s getting it from the Madelians or if they’re just spending time drinking together.  Admittedly, it would be a strange coincidence for Branden to just happen to choose them for drinking companions, but stranger things have happened.”
Standing upright again, Aislynn signaled Byron over to help her with the next stretch, and the two continued to think in silence.
“He loves you, you know,” Byron began.
“Who?  Branden?” Aislynn asked with a laugh.  Nothing could be farther from the truth, based on the way he reacted to her.
Byron laughed too, but more quietly and with less mirth.  
“No, Eryk,” he clarified.  “I think it started that very first day when you yelled at him in the courtyard, and I believe that is why he reacted so badly to the perceived betrayal when Tarren was killed.”
Aislynn rolled her eyes, but Byron was behind her and couldn't see.  “And how do you know that, oh Captain of the Castle Gossips?” she asked, but her sarcasm was lost on him.  He’d been thinking about it quite a bit since his brief meeting with Eryk in the study, and he was sure of his conclusions.  Byron had been around for a number of years, and he’d seen love in a variety of forms.  Heck, he’d found himself subject to it, once or twice…and recently.
“Eryk stopped me yesterday after breakfast, to ask me to keep an eye on Branden, and I mentioned that you had requested the same thing,” Byron explained.  “When he asked when I had seen you, I told him about our morning meetings, and he suddenly became very–”
“Jealous?” Aislynn asked, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Yeah.  How did you know that?”
“Because Eryk just walked through the door into the courtyard, he can see you holding onto me and there are waves of jealousy radiating off of him,” Aislynn replied.  She could feel the jealousy through the link, very strongly.
Byron immediately let go of her hands and took two big steps away from her.
“Hey,” she complained, “I thought you were helping me stretch.”
“Not while his Majesty is glaring at me like that, I’m not.”
Aislynn sighed, and still not looking at Eryk, she called him over.  “Why don’t you come over here and help me finish up, Eryk, since our brave captain here is convinced that you'll have him beheaded if he continues to help.”
Eryk blushed at her words.  He had been thinking something along those lines, he realized, jealousy fading into embarrassment.  He did walk over and take Aislynn’s hands, holding her arms behind her back while she leaned away from him, stretching the muscles in her back and shoulders.
The three of them remained caught in the awkward silence until Aislynn was finished with her exercises, and then Eryk spoke.
“I came to invite you to join us at breakfast this morning,” he said.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Aislynn asked.  Having Branden and Alexius there would be intolerable if Eryk was planning to moon over her, which she was coming to realize was a very real possibility.
“Please,” he begged.  “We can keep it very formal, if you’d like, your Highness.”  It was obvious that he really wanted her there, so she found herself agreeing despite her apprehension.
“Well, in that case, your Majesty, I'll excuse myself and go to dress appropriately.  I'll see you both soon.”
Aislynn turned and started to walk across the courtyard.  Cheta hopped up from where she had been laying and trotted over to Byron, giving him a swift lick on his hand as she passed.  She then proceeded to go over to Eryk, and she sat down in front of him, looking him up and down.  She looked so much like the matriarch of a family trying to decide if a gentleman caller was good enough for her daughter that Byron started to laugh.  Finally, Cheta rose to her feet, and followed Aislynn out of the courtyard, not looking at Eryk again.
“What was that all about?” Eryk asked Byron, confused.
“I’m honestly not sure,” Byron replied, still chuckling quietly to himself.
“Well Cheta seems to like you well enough.  What’s your secret?”
Byron shrugged.  “I don’t really have a secret, but I do know that I’m not going around announcing my love for her other half, for starters.”
Eryk blushed, confirming Byron’s suspicions.  Byron took a deep breath and then continued as if he hadn’t noticed.  “I suspect that if you want to win Aislynn, you’re going to have to start by impressing Cheta.  Good luck with that.”
Byron left to get himself ready for breakfast, chuckling again as he strode away.  Eryk was left standing alone, wondering how he was supposed to win over a wolf, let alone the assassin he wanted to marry.  Now, more than ever, Eryk wished that his best friend hadn't apparently gone totally insane.  Branden would have been great to talk to, right about now.
Breakfast turned out to be just as painful as Aislynn had predicted, and she spent her time pointedly ignoring more than half of the people seated at the table.  She was glad that she’d at least been able to spare Marja this torture. 
Alexius was glaring daggers at her from across the table, and Cora was definitely on her side.  The two women carried on a conversation between them, just loud enough that it was obvious that they wanted to be overheard.  They discussed everything from what the autumn wedding would be like, to what the children could possibly look like, considering Alexius was blond and Eryk had dark hair.  
Among the men, Branden spent the meal trying to argue with Eryk about the fact that Aislynn was there at all, but Eryk pretended not to hear him.  Durham spent his meal looking between Aislynn, Eryk and Branden speculatively, and Byron tried to keep from laughing the whole time.  The only real highlight of the meal was Davin.
When Aislynn had neared the dining hall earlier, Cheta had suddenly bounded on ahead, obviously eager to see someone.  The squeals of delight that soon sounded from inside the room quickly identified who that was.  When Aislynn entered the room herself, she found Davin sprawled out on the floor with Cheta standing astride him, licking his face while he squirmed and giggled.  Aislynn couldn't help but smile herself, but she quickly reined Cheta in, remembering how Durham had reacted to the wolf that first night.  
Throughout the meal, Davin kept tossing Cheta tidbits under the table when he thought that nobody was looking, and he spent his time speaking with Aislynn.  They talked about Davin’s plans for the day and he asked her why she had been absent from the breakfast table for the past few days.  She didn't want to lie to the boy, but she couldn't tell him the truth either, so she opted for the “sickness” excuse.  It wasn’t her fault if the sickness keeping her away was Branden’s and not hers.  Davin seemed satisfied by that, and the conversation turned to a less dangerous topic.
After the painful ordeal was over, Aislynn was happy to leave the very unfriendly room as quickly as possible, but Eryk caught up with her at the door.
“I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a ride this afternoon,” he asked.  “I’m sure that Cheta would love to have a good run outside of the castle, and I know that you haven’t had time to go for a ride since you arrived here.”
Aislynn smiled, genuinely pleased with the idea.  “That would be wonderful,” she said sincerely.
“Great!  I have a meeting with the Madelian emissaries this morning, so I'll meet you in the courtyard around midday.  I'll have someone pack a meal to take with us, if that suits you.”
Aislynn nodded her agreement, and then started down the hall.  If Eryk would be in a diplomatic meeting all morning, Branden would be sure to be with him, acting in his capacity of chief advisor.  That would give Aislynn plenty of time to look around Branden’s rooms to see if she could find anything out of the ordinary.  
She returned to her own rooms for a little while, gathering a few things that she might need, and after she was sure that the meeting must have started, she and Cheta ventured down the hall to where Branden’s suite was located.
Getting into the suite was easy enough.  Aislynn had Cheta scout the hall ahead and stand guard in case someone ventured down the corridor in her direction, and she selected a couple of picks to use on the lock.  The lock on the door was a very simple one, and she had it picked open in no time, making a mental note to change the lock on her own door.  Aislynn eased the door open and listened intently, and once she was satisfied that there wasn’t anyone inside, she called to Cheta and they entered the suite, shutting the door firmly behind them.
Branden’s rooms seemed fairly typical of what she would expect of a male his age.  The décor struck her as very similar to her brother’s rooms back home, full of heavy, functional furniture, and bold colors.  The reception room consisted of a couch and chair, both with wood stained a dark brown and with padding covered in a deep red fabric.  The rug on the floor featured geometric patterns in red, black and yellow, and the table set in front of the couch sported red and black tiles inlaid in a checkerboard pattern.
Looking around quickly, Aislynn couldn’t see anything unusual or out of place, and she moved into the bedroom for a quick examination of that area.  This room was set up in a manner very similar to her own.  There was a large bed set against the far wall, again in that heavy, dark-stained wood, and a matching wardrobe was set on the adjoining wall.  There was a window in this room, which Aislynn noted was closed and barred, despite the lovely day outside.  Beside the window was a desk and matching chair, and it was the desk that Aislynn investigated first.
Riffling through the papers that she found on the top of the desk, Aislynn didn’t discover anything terribly interesting, but she did note that Branden seemed to spend a lot of time writing to himself when he read something.  There were notes on nearly every page she saw, and many of the notes were in reply to previous notes that he had written to himself.  The drawers of the desk didn't reveal anything either, containing nothing but writing supplies.  Disappointed, Aislynn continued to investigate the room, checking under the bed and inside the wardrobe.
The wardrobe proved to be the more interesting of the two locations, and Aislynn found all sorts of fascinating items as she looked through the pockets of Branden’s clothing.  It looked like he had been spending a fair amount of time at a local tavern, likely the one that Byron had mentioned that morning.  Aislynn’s search revealed a number of chits from one particular establishment.  It also looked as if Branden didn't have a particular drink he favored over any other; these chits were for all sorts of alcohol, including wine, beer and whiskey.  The amounts led her to believe that he was indeed drinking with company, and he seemed to foot the bill a lot of the time.
Aislynn also found a small package that contained a number of very tiny green seeds.  Wondering if these seeds could possibly be the alternative medication that Branden seemed to be taking, she slipped a few onto one of the old tavern chits and folded the chit into a little package to keep the seeds safe.  She planned to take the seeds to a healer to see if someone could identify them and if so, to find out if they could possibly be the source of the irrational behavior that Branden had been demonstrating.  She definitely didn't want to lose them.
Cheta’s low growl as she flew into the room and skidded under the bed was Aislynn’s only warning.  She too flung herself across to the bed, trusting in Cheta as always, and she scuttled under it just as she heard footsteps enter the outer room.  Peeking out from under the bed covers, wincing from where she had bumped her healing ribs, Aislynn noticed there were two people who walked into the bedroom.
“See?” said a low, growling voice.  “It’s empty, just like his Lordship promised.  He said that he’d be in the meeting all morning, so it would be the perfect time to drop it off.”
“What happens if the meeting ends early?” asked the second voice, higher than the first, but still definitely male.  Both voices had the odd accent she had first heard from the Madelian emissaries, which meant that these men were likely the guards for those same emissaries.
“This won’t take long.  His Lordship said that the money would be in the drawer of the table beside the bed, and that we should leave the package there.”
Aislynn saw a pair of heavy boots come into view close beside the bed, and heard the sound of a drawer opening.  Next, the chink of coins sounded as the man picked up a pouch that had obviously been waiting there.
“Should we count it?” asked the second man.  He seemed to be nervous, questioning everything.  Aislynn couldn't see his feet, but she could hear him shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously while he waited, causing a slight scuffling sound.  She knew his general location in the room from that sound.
“Don’t be an idiot,” scoffed the first voice.  “If he said that the deal had been arranged with his Lordship, then the deal is arranged.  Do you want to second guess him?”
Considering the way the first man spoke of “him”, Aislynn believed that it was someone whom both of the men feared.  Could it be one of the emissaries?  “His Lordship” was obviously Branden, and she suspected that any dealings he had with the Madelians were far from healthy, or legal, given the secrecy surrounding this exchange.
“Definitely not!” protested the other man.  “Even Kardon and Sookra do what he says, so who am I to question?”  So this “he” is not one of the emissaries, Aislynn noted quietly to herself.  Were her suspicions correct?  Was Madelia harboring the assassins?
The men quickly finished the errand they had been sent to do, and left the room.  Aislynn and Cheta stayed under the bed for a while longer, making sure that they had gone, and as soon as Aislynn emerged from hiding, she went immediately to the drawer in the bedside table.  Pulling it open, she saw a small package, very similar to the one that she had found in Branden’s pocket.  Upon examination, she found that this new package also contained the tiny seeds.  They were definitely an important piece of the puzzle.
Feeling that she had discovered all that she was going to in Branden’s rooms, Aislynn and Cheta eased out of the door and into the hall.  They went first to Aislynn’s rooms, where she left a small number of the seeds that she had taken, and then they went to the guard barracks to find Byron.  
It would be better for Byron to investigate the tavern and the seeds, she decided, because at least he had official sanction from the king.  She, on the other hand, was simply snooping around as far as anyone would be concerned.  Her word had no weight here, especially not where Branden was concerned.
Byron, it turned out, was somewhere out on the castle walls doing an inspection of the guards on duty, so Aislynn was forced to wait for him.  While she waited, she decided to explore the barracks’ armory, a place that she had seen briefly on her tour of the building but somewhere that she had not spent any time.
The door was open, and a guardsman greeted her when she walked in.
“Good morning Princess,” he said cheerfully.  “What can I help you with?”
Aislynn smiled to herself, thankful that Byron had had the opportunity to introduce her to his men.  Before that, she would likely have had to sneak in here for a look, since a lady of her rank wouldn't normally be found in a place like this.
“Honestly,” she answered, “I’m just looking around, killing some time.  I figured that it would be good to know what’s on hand, so I know what I can practice with in the mornings.”
She wandered around the room, thrilled by the scope of the weapons present and the logical organization of them.  The wall to the left of the door held all of the regular issue weapons, organized by size.  The daggers were closest to the door, followed by the short swords and long swords.  Next to those, at the far end of the wall, were the spears and pole arms.  The wall across the back of the room held the ranged weapons, including throwing knives, short and long bows, crossbows and javelins, as well as ammunition.  
The remaining two walls interested Aislynn the most.  These walls held the weapons used least often by the guardsmen, and then only a select few would likely know how to wield them, let alone want to.  Here she found throwing axes and hammers, battle-axes, great swords, whips, nets, maces and morning stars.  She was familiar with them all, but had never handled a battle-axe or great sword because of their size and weight.  She found the morning stars unwieldy, but picked up a throwing axe to test its balance.  Perhaps she and Byron should have a contest with axes one morning, she mused, returning the weapon to its place.
Confident that she had likely wasted enough time among the weapons, she thanked the guard and left, hoping that Byron had returned from his tour of the walls.  She found him in the dining hall, about to catch a quick meal before his next obligation.
“Byron,” she called, spotting him across the room.  He glanced up, and she walked swiftly across the hall and took a seat across from him.  
“I found some interesting information this morning,” she began.  “I think I confirmed where our friend has been spending a lot of his free time, and I also know what he’s been taking.”  A quick glance around the hall before she began had revealed nobody close enough to listen in, but she felt that it was better safe than sorry, so she didn't mention Branden by name.
“The substance in the package should likely go to the healers, and the name of the place where you can find our friend is on the paper,” she said, slipping the folded chit across the table.
Byron palmed the chit, and slipped it into a pocket, not saying a word.
“I have to get ready for my afternoon out, so I'll see you around later.”  Aislynn rose from her seat.  “Oh, and send someone who could do with a break with Eryk this afternoon.”  She thanked Byron with a friendly smile before leaving the barracks and returning to her rooms to change.
Marja was more than eager to help Aislynn pick out an appropriate riding dress when she explained her afternoon plans.  Aislynn knew that Marja was dying to comment, but she thankfully kept her thoughts to herself while she helped Aislynn get ready.  Marja knew that Aislynn was not going to listen to a word she said anyway, so why waste her breath. She hoped that the princess would come to her senses in due time, but there was nothing she could do about it in any case.
Aislynn ended up choosing a dark blue dress, which Marja accented with the jewelry Aislynn had worn to the Courting Ball.  Then Marja touched up the cosmetics she’d used that morning to hide Aislynn’s healing bruises, redid Aislynn’s hair to help with the illusion, and pronounced her friend ready for an afternoon out with her king.



Chapter 19

Aislynn soon found herself back in the castle’s main courtyard, eagerly looking forward to Eryk’s arrival.  She had to admit that she was staring to enjoy the small amounts of time that she was now getting to spend with him, and she had no reason to think that this afternoon wouldn't be enjoyable too.  She saw a pair of groomsmen leading her gelding and Eryk’s stallion from the stables, both of the horses fully tacked and ready to go.  Cheta was practically dancing with excitement at the prospect of being out of the confines of the castle, and Aislynn was so busy enjoying the sight of her wolf cavorting around that she didn't notice Alexius until the woman was practically beside her.
“I know that the black belongs to his Majesty, and since you’re here, I assume the gray is yours?” she asked with an angry overtone.
Aislynn didn't really see a lot of point answering her, especially since Alexius already knew the answer.  When she didn't reply, Alexius continued, eager to vent some of her building frustration.
“Just who do you think you are?  You show up here out of the blue, spend a week wrapping him around your little finger, and you expect the rest of us to just roll over and accept your claim?  I don’t think so!” 
Aislynn turned to look down at the woman.  Alexius was pretty in the same traditional way that Marja was pretty, and Aislynn had to admit that even with the petulant look on her face right now, she’d have men lined up to spend time with her.  Her blond hair fell in perfect waves to her shoulders, and her anger made her cheeks rosy, which in turn brought out the blue of her eyes.  Alexius was absolutely gorgeous, and Aislynn knew that she couldn't compete with her on that front, so she felt that it was a good thing that she did not intend to do so.
“For the record,” Aislynn sneered in reply, unable to help herself and using her height to help seem intimidating, “I told him to marry you.  It’s not my fault if he doesn't want you.”  She knew that the remark was cruel, but it was true.  She had no way of forcing Eryk to choose the silly girl, even if it was in his best interest to do so.
“Maybe if you keep trying, you'll find something that works.  In the meantime, I’m going for a ride, but you’re more than welcome to join us if you want to.”  Aislynn smiled nastily, and strode down the stairs to her waiting horse.  She suspected that Alexius, like most of the noble ladies in this city, didn't ride unless she absolutely had to, and therefore wouldn’t accept her invitation.  On one hand, she really didn't want Alexius to come, but on the other, not spending time alone with Eryk could only help her goal of getting him to choose someone else for his bride.
A short while later, Eryk came striding out of the castle carrying a sack slung over one shoulder.  Aislynn suspected that the sack contained their lunch, which was great because she suddenly realized that she was very hungry.  Eryk smiled when he saw her already there waiting for him, and he didn't even register the fact that Alexius was outside until she literally stepped in front of him.
“Oh, your Majesty,” Alexius said in a light, breathy voice.  “I am sooooo sorry that I won’t be able to join you on your ride with the princess, but I do thank you for the invitation.”  She rose up onto her tiptoes and gave Eryk a quick kiss on the cheek before turning back into the building.
Eryk, confused since he knew that he had not invited Alexius along, practically stumbled down the steps and walked over to his horse still trying to figure out what was going on.  One look at Aislynn’s smile sorted everything out.
“You invited Alexius?” he gasped.  “I thought you didn't like her.”
“I don’t,” Aislynn agreed, “but if you’re going to marry her, perhaps you need to spend some more time with her.  Let’s get going!”
Aislynn turned her horse toward the street, and nudged him into a quick walk, not even waiting for Eryk to mount up.  She knew that he’d catch up, and she was as eager as Cheta was to get out into the countryside.  One of her guards followed closely behind her.
“Hurry up!” she called over her shoulder, laughing.  She could feel his confusion, and she found it funny.  She wondered if Eryk had even registered exactly what she’d said to him.
Eryk did finally manage to sort himself out, and he leaped up onto his mount.  He quickly spurred the stallion after Aislynn, and his guardsman fell into place behind him.  
It didn't take long for him to catch up since Aislynn was keeping her mount to a sedate walking pace through Eaglecrest’s busy streets.  She didn't want to run down any of the citizens who were going about their regular day.
“Does your guard know that he’s basically for show?” asked Eryk, very carefully staying away from any topic of conversation that could be construed as him showing interest in her, as per his newly laid plan to win her over.
“Yup,” Aislynn replied with a nod, “though he is highly trained and he would be very useful if something happened.  Did you know that your guard knows that he’s basically for show too?”
That silly look of confusion clouded Eryk’s face again, making Aislynn laugh aloud.  Eryk decided that he liked the sound of her laughter, but he really wished that it wasn’t always at his expense.  I need to find other ways to make her laugh, he decided.
“Byron told his men about me a few days ago, when you basically kicked me out of the castle.  It made things a lot easier for me, giving me somewhere to go.  It also made things a lot easier for Marja, because I wasn’t confined to my rooms all day, driving her crazy,” she explained.
Eryk really had no idea how to respond to that, so he just kept silent.  The two of them rode in silence for a time, watching the shops and homes of the citizens of Eaglecrest pass.  Cheta was acting like a puppy, racing ahead for a bit, and then racing back as if to see what was keeping them.  All three of them were happy just to be out of the castle for at least a little while, with nothing to worry about.
Eryk led Aislynn out to the field where he had gone hawking with Branden.  It seemed like so much time had passed since that day.  So much had changed.
The early afternoon sun was coming from behind the woods, leaving the edge of the meadow in shadow, and it was here that the two of them settled down to eat their midday meal.  The kitchen had sent bread and cheese, along with a small corked pitcher of cider.  There was nothing romantic about the fare, just as Eryk had instructed the head of the kitchen, who had wanted to send an entirely different kind of meal when she had heard who was accompanying Eryk on this little outing.  Everyone just seemed to be happy that he was actually making an effort to choose a bride, even if they thought that he was going about it in totally the wrong way.
“So how did your meeting go this morning?” Aislynn asked as the meal progressed.  
Eryk groaned.  “The meeting was about as productive as it was last time, which is to say, not productive at all.  They want us to concede a huge strip of land along the northern border, which I am not prepared to do.  We have settlements up there, towns that are firmly established and thriving for the most part.”
Aislynn nodded in agreement.  “You can’t just pick up and move those towns, and you can’t expect the people to uproot themselves either.  I understand.  What do they offer in return for the land?”
“The usual – trade agreements and the like.  Nothing we can’t live without.  I have to admit that it would be nice to end the constant hostilities with Madelia, but the cost is just too high.  We've been glaring at each other over the border ever since the war ended a decade ago.  It’s tiresome.”
Eryk turned to look at Aislynn, and reached his hand up to brush her hair back from her face.
“Marja did a good job hiding your bruises,” he said, changing the subject.  “If I didn't know they were there, I don’t think I’d be able to pick them out.”
“She’s good at what she does,” Aislynn admitted.  There were times when that skill made her a touch jealous, but most of the time, she was just grateful to have someone to help her play the part she needed to play.
Thinking about her injuries and the assassination attempt that had caused them, paired with the location, made Eryk turn his thoughts to the previous attack.
“It was here,” he commented.  “They first tried to kill me here, while I was hawking.  It was the strangest thing.  The hawk that I was using suddenly turned off of its prey and attacked—”
He stopped suddenly, looking at Aislynn and then looking at Cheta.
“Rupert was like you, right?  An assassin, someone who served your country, and someone whose training would require him to be away from his family and home.  You told me, back on our first outing together, that children like that had eesprid to keep them company.”
“True,” she agreed, “all of it.”  Aislynn was actually impressed that Eryk remembered so much of their conversation together.  They hadn’t been on the best of terms at the time, after all.
“What was Rupert’s eesprid?  Was it his hawk that saved me?”
Aislynn nodded.  “I suspect that since Rupert spent so much time inside with your father, he had likely left instructions with his hawk that it should spend time with you when possible.  Even though you were not being officially protected, Tarren cared enough for you that Rupert would have done that for him.”
“So you don’t always have to be with Cheta?  She can be away from you?”
“Of course she can,” laughed Aislynn.  “We just prefer to spend our time together, for the most part.  It is…somewhat uncomfortable to be away from each other for too long.”
As they finished their meal, Eryk offered up his next suggestion for some amusement.
“Why don’t we leave this pair here,” he proposed, gesturing to the guards who were playing a game of dice at a discrete distance, “and see if we can flush some rabbits for Cheta to chase down.”
Aislynn, thinking that the idea sounded like it could be fun, agreed, and the two of them rounded up their mounts and walked them deeper into the field.  Eryk, who was familiar with the field and the wildlife here, indicated the location of some rabbit burrows, and the two spurred their horses toward them.  Cheta kept pace easily at the beginning, but soon slowed to a walk to conserve her energy.  As the riders approached the burrows, she dropped into a crouch to await her prey.
Soon, there were three rabbits up out of the burrow and racing across the field.  Cheta sprang into action, angling her course to intercept one of the creatures.  The goal was to catch the rabbit before it could go to ground through another burrow opening, and Cheta was too slow for the first one.  She sniffed around a bit, trying to locate any other openings in the area, and then returned to Aislynn and Eryk, eager to try again.
The second attempt was considerably better, with Cheta bringing the rabbit down a few steps away from its refuge.  She caught her second rabbit even faster than that, getting the hang of the game and getting a feel for her quarry.  Not about to let Cheta have all of the fun, Aislynn and Eryk each caught a rabbit, Aislynn with a dagger throw and Eryk with his bow.  They cleaned and skinned the four animals, and Eryk slipped them into the sack that had held their lunch.
“These should make for a fine stew tomorrow,” he commented as they finished up.  The sun was beginning to set, and they both knew that it was more than time for them to head back to the castle.  They rode back to their guards, who were ready and waiting for them, and then they all proceeded back to the city.
“I had a really nice time this afternoon,” Aislynn commented as they rode through the city streets once more.  “Thank you for inviting me.  I know that Cheta enjoyed the freedom too, not to mention the hunt.”
“I’m glad that you came with me,” Eryk replied.  “I haven’t been outside of the city since my father died, and it was nice to spend the time with someone I can actually talk to.”
“You can’t talk to Alexius?” she joked.
Eryk sighed.  “You are aware that you are an impossible woman, right?  Even when I’m trying to complement you or say something nice, you have to be…frustrating.”
“I’m sorry,” Aislynn apologized, and she found that she really meant it.  “I'll try to behave myself from now on, but I make no promises.”
“You know, I’m really going to miss this,” Eryk said.
“Miss what?” Aislynn wondered.
“Miss being able to escape the castle and my duties for a little while, just being able to spend time outside, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze and the hunt.”  Eryk sighed regretfully.
“I don’t understand.  Why are you going to miss that?  Are you planning to stop?”
“I hadn't planned on it, no, but circumstances being what they are now…  Most of the governing duties have been put on hold until after the funeral, but once that’s over, things will get back to normal and I'll be trapped in the castle.  My father–”
“Is dead and you are not your father,” Aislynn interrupted.  “Just because he spent all of his time in the castle, that certainly doesn't mean that you have to.”
“But the citizens and the council will expect things to be the same.”
“That’s too bad for them, isn't it?  The citizens will adjust, and you can replace the council.  The council’s job is to advise you, but you still make the decisions because you are the king.  If you decide that you occasionally need an afternoon of hunting, then that is what you decide.  As long as you are not neglecting your duties, nobody should have any problems with that.”
Eryk fell silent at that, thinking over everything that Aislynn had said.  He’d always assumed that when he became king, he’d be trapped like his father, tied to the throne and the paperwork that came with governing a kingdom.  If what she said was true…
When they reached the castle, they left their horses with a pair of groomsmen and retired inside.  Just before they parted ways, Aislynn gave Eryk a friendly peck on the cheek.  He looked at her, startled.
“That’s just a thank you for a wonderful afternoon.  Don’t go reading anything into it,” she said.
With that, Aislynn left Eryk standing in the main hall, and went upstairs to her rooms.  She planned to skip dinner and retire early for the night.  She had been very busy today, and she found that her injuries were bothering her a little.  She hoped that some salve and a good night’s sleep would help, but the first thing she wanted was a nice, hot bath.
When Aislynn reached her rooms, she found Marja inside, nearly bursting with the need to know all of the details of Aislynn’s afternoon.  Aislynn obliged her while she waited for her bathwater, and Marja pestered her with question after question.  Finally, with the arrival of the bath, Aislynn simply stopped answering Marja’s queries, and she sank down into the wonderful, relaxing water.
While she bathed, Marja filled her in on the castle gossip.  Aislynn was only half-listening, as was her custom, while Marja prattled on about who was secretly seeing whom, which Lords apparently had mistresses, and which servants had been promoted and demoted and why.  Aislynn was just starting to drift off into a relaxed daze when something caught her attention.
“Hold on,” she commanded.  “Say that again.”
“I said one of the serving girls was beaten half to death by Lord Branden this afternoon.”
“What happened?” Aislynn asked, alarmed.
“Well, what I heard was that she had apparently been caught stealing.  Lord Branden came back to his rooms a little early and found her there, cleaning as she was supposed to be doing.  However, he said that something wasn’t right, and accused the girl of stealing.  Instead of taking her to the chamberlain, as he should have done, he took it upon himself to punish her.  He took it far beyond what was necessary though, considering her crime.”
Aislynn sat there, stunned and horrified by the thought that she could be responsible for this girl’s condition.  After all, she had been in Branden’s rooms this morning, and she had been snooping around.  She’d thought that she had been careful not to leave anything out of place, but…
“What happened?” Aislynn asked, afraid to find out that she was responsible, but needing to know.
“Well, he apparently started by hitting her around the head, knocking her to the ground.  When she fell, she dropped a pair of silver cufflinks, and when he saw them, Lord Branden went mad.  He kicked and punched the girl into unconsciousness, and left her bleeding on his floor.  He didn't even summon a healer for her.  Instead, he summoned a guard and ordered her arrested for stealing.”
Aislynn had been sure before that Branden’s aggressive behavior was escalating, but here was the proof of it.  She desperately hoped that the healers had been able to identify the substance he was taking, and she really hoped that they would be able to do something about it.  If someone didn't handle this situation soon, Branden would likely end up killing someone.
As Aislynn dressed for bed, she suddenly felt anger rolling along the link from Eryk.  She guessed that he had just found out about what had happened this afternoon while he had been out of the castle with her.
“Marja,” Aislynn called.  “What happened to Lord Branden after this afternoon?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.  “Nobody’s seen him since.”



Chapter 20

The next dawn found Aislynn in the barrack’s courtyard, but it wasn’t Byron she was sparring with.  Today, she had convinced her two guardsmen to help her exercise.  The two men, twins named Marcus and Mateo, were more than familiar with the various styles used by the assassins of Evendell since the royal guards often trained alongside the students of the Academy, and they were proving to be a good match for Aislynn.  Byron watched the action from a safe distance.
“Are you sure that you should be doing that?” he called, unable to keep the worry completely out of his voice.  “Didn't the healers tell you to take it easy?”
“This is taking it easy,” she laughed, twisting the quarterstaff in her hands to block first one attack from Marcus and then the next from Mateo.  “These two have promised to go easy on me, considering my ‘condition’.”
If that was taking it easy, Byron most definitely didn't want to see what going full out looked like.  It was true that they were spacing their attacks so that she only had to parry one at a time, but still.  He made some mental notes to change up the training routine for his own men – they could learn a lot from these two.
“So what did you find out yesterday?” Aislynn asked, continuing to parry and attack in a nice, predictable rhythm.
“Well, I sent someone to check out the tavern you mentioned, and his Lordship has indeed been spending a lot of time there.  Considerably more than he normally had been, apparently.  And he’s been in the company of at least one of the Madelian guards almost every time he’s been there, according to the proprietor.”
“And what about the other thing?”
“Well, the healers aren't entirely sure what to make of it.  Last I heard, they had confirmed that the seeds do have analgesic qualities, so that would explain why Branden hasn't needed to get his normal medications here.  However, they were also pretty sure that the substance would do something to his mind too, but they weren't sure entirely what that is.”
“Something like going berserk and nearly beating someone to death?” Aislynn scowled in disgust when she thought of what Marja had told her.  The girl would apparently survive, but she would be recovering for days, if not weeks.
“You heard about that, did you?” Byron commented.  “Nasty bit of work, that.  Honestly, it’s likely a good thing that you and Eryk asked me to keep an eye on him, because there were guards close by when it happened.  They reported that the only reason he stopped beating that poor girl was because they showed up.  That girl would likely be dead if it wasn’t for the two of you and your request.”
“Have you managed to find him yet?” Aislynn asked, concerned about the unsuspecting citizens of the city with a crazy man on the loose.
“Not yet, no.  We do have guards stationed at his father’s home, and pairs of guards patrolling the city, but nobody’s reported anything yet.  I thought about sending guards out to the various country estates used by the family, but I didn't want to deplete the guard too much.  I can ask Lord Geoffrey to send some of the army out to check the estates if you’d like.”
Aislynn shook her head.  “No, I don’t think that’s necessary.  I do hope that you find him soon, though I have no idea what Eryk will do with him when you do.  They have been such close friends.  Until now, anyway.”
Byron nodded his head in agreement, but made no comment.  It was certainly an unusual situation, and he didn't envy Eryk the decision at all.  He hoped the healers would be able to shed some light on Branden’s behavior before it was too late.
Aislynn’s exercises wound down to a close, and she thanked the men for their help.  They acknowledged her thanks with short bows from the waist, curly brown hair shining in the sunlight with the movement, and the pair retreated into the building, likely to get changed.
“They are an interesting pair,” Byron commented, nodding after the disappearing forms of the guards.
“They’re perfect for this assignment,” Aislynn said.  “They are identical twins, as I’m sure you've noticed, but they have no living family back in Evendell.  They keep each other company, their duty here is light, and they are free to do just about what they please beyond that.  Have they made any friends among your men?”
“A few, that I’m aware of.  The one, the taller one, he seems to be more outgoing than his brother is.  At least I think I have that right.  How do you tell them apart?”
Aislynn laughed.  “The taller one is Marcus.  If they are apart, it is a lot more difficult to tell who is who unless they say something.  Mateo is considerably quieter than Marcus is, so if you get very short, succinct responses to questions, you’re likely dealing with Mateo.  And Marcus smiles a lot more.”
Finally finished up with her stretches, and feeling a little tired from the exertion, Aislynn made her excuses and started back toward the castle.  
“I assume I'll see you at breakfast?” she asked as they walked together out of the courtyard.
“I would expect so,” he answered.  “Until then, I’m going to go see if the healers have found out any more information about those little seeds.”
They had reached the castle proper, and Byron started down the hall toward the healers’ suite, while Aislynn climbed the stairs to her room.  She opened the door quietly, not wanting to disturb Marja if she was still sleeping, but she shouldn't have bothered.  Just like every other day, Marja was already up, dressed and ready for the day.
“Your dress is on your bed,” she called as Aislynn made her way across the reception room.  “I left some hot water for you in the basin.”
Aislynn noticed the Marja seemed a lot more cheerful this morning, and for the first time since they had arrived in Bacovia, Marja hadn't made a remark or thrown a dirty look Aislynn’s way when she arrived back in her rooms, dirty and sweaty and dressed like a boy.  Aislynn wondered what the cause was for her good mood, and she really hoped that it wasn’t Eryk’s apparent infatuation.
Aislynn had just finished washing and was about to change her clothing when she heard the door bang open in the other room.
“I’m afraid that the Princess isn’t available…” Marja started, her voice trembling a little.
“I don’t care about whether she’s available or not,” drawled an angry voice, “I will see her now!”
“I’m sorry, my Lord, but –”
“Enough, woman!” interrupted the voice, and Aislynn clearly heard the slap of flesh on flesh as Marja fell silent.  Someone had hit her!
Aislynn was about to sneak over to the door to see what was going on in the other room, when she heard laughter, and not from the first man.  There were at least two others in the room with him.  Reconsidering, Aislynn threw herself back toward her bed, reaching underneath it for the case in which she kept her weapons.  She pulled that case up onto her bed not a moment too soon.
“There you are!” drawled that angry voice, and Aislynn turned to see Branden standing in her bedroom doorway, brandishing a long sword.  He appeared to be very drunk, slurring his words, which is why she hadn’t recognized his voice.
“Just who do you think you are?” he asked.  “Who do you think you are to take Eryk away from the castle and away from his duties?  Who do you think you are to make him push Alexius aside?”  As he asked her these questions, his voice was getting louder, his rage building.  Aislynn felt behind her on the bed, searching for the weapons she wanted.  Cheta whined quietly at her feet, trying not to draw attention to herself.
“I’ll tell you who you are!  You’re a sneaky and deceptive little creature, passing yourself off as a princess to lure away the king.  You’re a manipulative little wench, trying to get a throne for yourself, when it rightfully belongs to Alexius.  You’re a cold-blooded killer, who will kill anyone who gets in the way of your goals.”  
As Branden spoke, he advanced steadily across the room.  Aislynn knew that there were others in the reception room, and she knew that she was likely in serious trouble here.  She nudged Cheta with her foot and whispered her directions.  Go get help.  Cheta was off like a flash, hurtling past a startled Branden, but she wasn’t so lucky in the reception room.  Aislynn winced when she heard a yelp as someone injured the wolf, and she hoped that Cheta had managed to escape the room.
“I’m going to kill you,” Branden declared.  “And when you’re dead, Eryk will pick the right woman to be his queen!”  
He advanced, swinging his sword clumsily at Aislynn’s head.  She yanked her own sword off the bed, parrying the attack easily.  As much as she longed to kill this man, she knew that Eryk would never forgive her, even if it was technically in self-defense.  Besides, he was obviously not in his right mind, and there was no real justice in killing someone who was clearly insane.  Instead, she settled for taking him out of the equation.  A quick blow to his temple with the pommel of her sword, and he fell like a sack of potatoes, out cold.  
There are definite advantages to fighting someone whose reaction time is horribly impaired, she thought to herself as she moved quickly toward her door, hoping to get a look at the situation before she was engaged in combat again.
It was immediately clear that the next combat wasn’t going to be an easy one.  There were three men in the room, all dressed in the green and brown uniforms of Madelian guards.  Branden had apparently brought his drinking buddies along for the fun, but watching them, Aislynn knew that they had not been drinking.
“It’s awfully quiet in there,” said one guard, indicating her bedroom with a nod of his head.  He was nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, and Aislynn recognized his voice from yesterday morning.
“True,” agreed the second guard, moving toward her.  She recognized his voice too.  
Both men had their swords drawn, obviously ready for combat, and they advanced with careful, measured paces.  Aislynn’s time was up, and she sprang into the reception room, sword and dagger in hand, to give herself the advantage of surprise.  She lashed out immediately with her dagger, catching the second guard across the forehead and opening a gash the poured blood down into his eyes, impairing his vision.  
The first guard struck at her with his sword, but she had more than enough time to twist around and parry the attack with her dagger, making another attack of her own, stabbing toward his chest.  He danced back, a look of surprise on his face.
“He wasn’t lying about you, was he?” the guard asked.
“Hurry up you fools, before that creature can bring help.”  This was from the third man in the room.  He stood near the door, a drawn dagger streaked with blood.  He’d obviously been the one to injure Cheta as she fled the room, and it was apparent from his words that she’d managed to get away.  When he spoke, it was also obvious that he wasn’t from Madelia; his words lacked the strange sibilant accent Aislynn had learned to associate with that kingdom.  Who was he?  
There was no time to ponder that question though, as the first guard recovered from his surprise and advanced slowly toward her with more respect for her abilities evident in his every move.  The second guard was still flailing around blindly, which made him a danger not only to her, but also to his companion.
The guard’s sword stabbed forward, lightning quick, as the man danced from side to side.  His nervous movements from yesterday took on a different meaning now, as he danced away from her return attack before quickly dancing in with another attack of his own.  She managed to parry both of his strikes, but just barely.  The other guard’s flailing attacks needed parrying too, and the man was putting his full strength into the swings.  
Aislynn knew that she wasn’t going to be able to keep these two at bay for long, and it was with relief that she heard Cheta’s howls begin in the courtyard outside.  Her guards would know what that meant, and they would come running.  She only needed to last until they got here.
“Damn it,” the third man swore, leaving his place by the door.  “The only way I’m going to get a clear shot at the king is if we get rid of her.”  
Aislynn glanced over at the man, surprised and suspicious.  Her suspicions were confirmed as she watched him move toward her, drawing a sword of his own.  The way he moved and the way he handled his weapons screamed to her.  Assassin.  He must be the one she had known was still in the city, just waiting for a chance to complete his contract.
Desperate not to be engaged with all three men at the same time, Aislynn flew into a wild series of attacks, leaving herself open, but moving too quickly for either of the guards she fought to take full advantage of those openings.  She parried the wildly swinging sword as it came around again, guiding it farther in the direction of the swing.  She followed through with her dagger, catching the man underneath his arm.  When she felt the dagger bite into flesh, she threw her weight behind it, and was rewarded by a grunt of pain and then a gasp as she punctured a lung. 
Aislynn left the dagger where it was and turned quickly to face the other man, but not quite quickly enough.  She managed to get her sword around in time to block most of the force of his attack, but she caught the other sword too close to the haft, cutting herself across the knuckles.  Blood began to flow, making her grip less than certain, and she stepped back quickly, trying to buy herself a little bit of time.
Then the assassin entered the fight, grinning cruelly. 
“So you’re the king’s protector, are you?” he asked.  “I suspect that you have been more lucky than skilled, but just in case…” He darted forward, dagger leading.
Aislynn brought her sword down quickly, parrying the blow, but she could see the other sword coming in toward her head.  Having no other choice, she ducked down below the height of the swing, throwing herself off balance.  She scrambled backwards, desperately trying to get her feet under her before the next attack came.
She felt her back collide with the wall behind her, and she used its support to regain her balance.  This wasn’t the best position to be in, not by a long shot, but it was all that she had for the time being. 
The assassin struck at her again, and again she managed to parry the attack.  Her backwards movement had moved her beyond the reach of the other man’s sword, so she used the free instant to strike back at the assassin, bringing her sword up and across from left to right.  Had it connected, the blow would have opened the man from belly to neck, but he danced back, easily outdistancing the clumsy strike.  She had managed to get a little bit of breathing room though, and hoping her luck hadn’t run out, Aislynn jumped toward the gap between the two men, tucking herself into a roll to minimize the target area she presented as she moved between them.  She felt the sting of a blade across her back, but it was a minor cut, and it was a small price to pay for the freedom of space to move in.  She jumped up onto the table in the middle of the room and turned to face her opponents from higher ground, giving her a little bit of an advantage.
“Aislynn!  I heard Cheta’s howls, and I came running…” Eryk’s voice trailed off as he reached the room and took a quick glance at the situation that awaited him.
“Well, well, well.  What have we here?” asked the assassin with mock cheerfulness as he turned toward the door.  
“NO!”  Aislynn, following the assassin’s glance, saw an unarmed Eryk standing in the doorway.  What would have possessed him to come here without a weapon?
“How nice of your creature to bring my prey to me.  Finally, the contract will be complete.”
Aislynn saw it all happen in slow motion.  The guard had his sword up, ready to attack her, and the assassin pulled back his arm to throw his dagger at Eryk.  Eryk, still surprised by what he saw, stood unmoving in the doorway, a perfect target.  She really had no choice.  She leveled her sword at the assassin, and sprang at him from the table, leaving herself open to the guard’s coming attack.  She felt the sword bite deep into her shoulder, and she felt the blade rip its way across her body as she leapt.  But she also felt her own sword hit home, catching the assassin on the hip, turning him and distracting him from his shot.  The dagger flew wide, embedding itself into the doorframe, and the assassin looked down at her, sprawled and bleeding on the floor.
“You’ll pay for that, you little wench,” he snarled.  He drew his foot back, and kicked her hard in the side of the head.  The world went black.



Chapter 21

Later that day, Jackob arrived in the Bacovian capital city.  He and a small group of handpicked guards had made excellent time, covering the distance between the two capitals in just a little over four days.  They managed that by traveling very lightly, so that they had no wagons to slow them down.  Due to that fact, the only thing to identify him as royalty at all was the flag carried by one of his guards, the quality of his clothing, and the small crown encircling his brow.
Jackob was an imposing man, still obviously fit and strong despite his advancing years.  He and Tarren had been roughly the same age, but the physical differences between them were astounding.  Jackob had kept up a routine of regular exercise, unlike Tarren, and it showed.  It was also obvious that Aislynn got her looks from him.  He had straight brown hair, now going to gray, and brown eyes, just like she did.
As he dismounted, two of his six guards and his fox, Daki, joined him.  The four of them made their way up the stairs to the great double doors and through them into the castle, where organized chaos greeted them.  There were guards and servants everywhere, moving purposefully about their business.  There were also healers, and here and there, a courtier was seen rushing somewhere.  Jackob stopped just inside the entrance, waiting to be noticed and trying to avoid being trampled.
“Greetings, your Majesty,” said the chamberlain a few minutes later, taking in Jackob’s appearance and reaching the correct conclusion.  “Welcome to Eaglecrest.”
“Thank you,” he replied.  “May I ask what is going on here?  It seems very busy for a castle in mourning.”
“Ah…yes, your Majesty, about that…” the chamberlain stuttered, not really knowing how much information to divulge.
“There is obviously something, and I’ll find out one way or another, so you might as well tell me yourself.”  Jackob glared at the chamberlain, very sure of himself and his ability to get answers.
“Well,” started the man, deciding that it was likely better that he be in control of the flow of information, “there was an attack this morning.”
“An attack?  Is his Majesty okay?”
“Oh yes, he’s fine.  Not a scratch.”  The chamberlain was obviously very comfortable with answering this particular question.
“And the princess?”  Since Jackob was familiar with the situation here in Bacovia, not to mention the father of the aforementioned princess, he had asked the next logical question.  
The chamberlain paled a little, definitely not wanting to answer this question.  He’d noticed the livery of the guards, and he knew who this was.
“Why don’t I take you to her, while the chamberlain prepares a suite for you, your Majesty,” said a voice coming up beside him.  The chamberlain looked relieved to see the man, and happily scurried off.  “We are quite busy here with the arrival of the foreign delegates for the funeral.”
Jackob turned and noticed that a short, muscular man had joined his little group.  The man bowed at the waist, his eyes never leaving the king’s face, as sure of himself in his own way as the king was.
“Greetings, your Majesty.  I am Byron, Captain of the royal guard.  If you’d just follow me, please.”
Byron turned and headed toward the stairs, automatically making room between himself and the king for the king’s eesprid.  Jackob noticed this, and concluded that his man had likely been spending some time with his daughter and Cheta.  Therefore, this was likely someone who would know the information that he wanted.  It was good to know that Aislynn had confirmed Rupert’s opinion of the man, at least indirectly.
“So there was an attack on Eryk and Aislynn got hurt?” he asked.
“No, your Majesty, not exactly.  Eryk is fine, just as the chamberlain said, but the attack was directed against Aislynn.  As far as we can tell, they found out who she was, and decided to kill her so that they could strike at Eryk more easily.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“Well, Sire, we’re still trying to piece everything together, but the attack this morning was carried out by Lord Branden and three men dressed as Madelian guards.  One of those men was actually another assassin from the Black Scorpion guild, judging from the coin we found on his person.”
As Byron finished speaking, they came upon a room guarded by two men wearing the blue and silver Evendell uniforms.  Byron nodded to the men and turned to face the king.
“These men deserve commendation,” he explained.  “It is solely due to their actions that Aislynn is even alive right now.”
“We are so sorry, your Majesty,” Marcus spoke up.  “We came running as soon as we heard Cheta’s howls…”
“…But we just didn’t get here fast enough,” finished Mateo, looking ashamed.
Jackob nodded to both men, deciding to reserve any judgment until after he’d heard the whole story.  It was easy to be angry, and easy to place blame.  It was harder to make sure that blame was placed on the shoulders of the right person.
“Where is Eryk?” he asked.
“Inside, I imagine.  That is where I left him last.  Aislynn’s friend is there too.  She’ll be able to tell you what happened better than I, since she was there when it happened.”
Jackob opened the door quietly and went inside, leaving Byron outside with the guards.  He quickly surveyed the damage and tried to get a picture of what had happened here.  There was some overturned furniture, and quite a lot of blood scattered around the room.  Most disturbing was the rather large pool of blood a few feet from the door.
“Your Majesty!”  Marja dashed over, dropping into a curtsey.  Jackob took her gently by the arms, raising her up and looking at her face and the bruises showing along her cheek and jaw.
“Oh Sire, it was horrible,” she wailed, dissolving into tears, as she let her calm façade drop.  Jackob led her over to the couch and let her cry.  He knew that he would get a more coherent retelling of what had happened if she was able to release some of the strain and worry.  After a little while, she dried her tears and took a deep, steadying breath.
“Aislynn had just come back from her morning exercises and was washing up in the other room, when there was a knock at the door.  Lord Branden was there, drunk and raging, and he demanded to see Aislynn.  When I tried to tell him that she was unavailable, he struck me, knocking me to the ground.  Then he entered the room, brandishing his sword, and three other men followed him in.  I lay still, afraid to move, while Branden went into the bedroom to find Aislynn.”  She blushed at this, as if ashamed of her inaction, but she continued.
“Aislynn must have heard them come in because she was ready for him, and was able to knock him unconscious.  When she came into the room here, two of the three men attacked her.  The third man was by the door, and he was the one who stabbed Cheta when she fled to get help.  Aislynn managed to kill one of the men, but then the third man entered the fight.  She seemed to have everything under control, even with the uneven fight, and it looked like she would have been able to hold her own until Marcus and Mateo arrived, but then Eryk arrived.  The third man turned on him, and Aislynn was badly wounded while preventing the attack on him.  Marcus and Mateo arrived just after that, and they managed to kill both of the men.”
“Where is Aislynn now?  What did the healers say?”
“She’s there, in her bedroom,” Marja replied, gesturing toward the other room.  “The healers said that the sword wound across her shoulder and chest is deep, and she lost a lot of blood.  However, they are far more worried about the wound across her back, and the head wound.  They said that they are not sure when, or even if, she’ll regain consciousness, and they are reasonably certain that she has been poisoned by the wound across her back.”
Jackob did not like the sound of that, and rose quickly to go to his youngest daughter’s bedside.  He paused by the door, however, when he heard a voice speaking inside.
“Please Cheta, how many times do you want me to say that I’m sorry?  It wasn’t my fault.”  The voiced paused, and then continued.  
“Okay, I guess you could say that part of it was my fault, but how was I supposed to know?  If she would stop giving me partial information all of the time, things like this could be avoided.”  Jackob realized that it was Eryk speaking, and leaned against the wall to listen a little longer, unashamed of his eavesdropping.
“Why won’t you let me come any closer?  I’m not going to hurt her…  I just want to be near her, can’t you understand that?”  
Apparently, Cheta had some reservations about the young man.  Interesting, thought Jackob.
“You know that I love her, and you know that I want her to marry me…  I’m sorry that this happened, and if I could take any or all of those injuries myself, I would.”  Eryk sighed.  “I wish you could just understand how much it hurts me to see her like this, to know that I’m responsible for it, and to not be able to sit beside her and hold her hand…”
Jackob decided that he had heard enough.  It was obvious that Eryk cared for Aislynn, and it was obvious that for one reason or another, Cheta was determined to keep him away.  He guessed that he’d have to ask Aislynn about it later.  For now, he sent his fox into the room, and he heard her yip of greeting.  Cheta barked a reply, and Jackob entered the room just as Eryk was turning to see who it was.
“Your Majesty,” Jackob began, “I’m so sorry to hear about your father.  He was a close friend of mine for many years.”
“Thank you, your Majesty,” Eryk replied, easily identifying the visitor based on the eesprid and his appearance.  “And I, in return, am sorry that you had to arrive here to this.”  He gestured toward Aislynn’s pale form on the bed.  Cheta was lying on the bed beside her, on the side closest to the door, obviously guarding her.
“You seem to be having some trouble with Aislynn’s eesprid,” Jackob observed with a slight smile.  Eryk blushed, but didn’t answer.  He suspected that Jackob had overheard him.  Cheta growled in acknowledgement of Jackob’s statement.
“So, tell me what happened, if you’d please,” Jackob asked, trying to guide Eryk from the room.  Eryk refused to leave, sitting down on a chair by the door, before looking up at Aislynn’s father.
“I heard Cheta howling in the courtyard,” he began.  “Nobody had told me anything about that, so I assumed that Aislynn was in trouble, and I came running.  It was just an automatic reaction.  She was in trouble, like I suspected, but she had things under control until I got there.
“One of the men she was fighting was another assassin, and when I arrived, he immediately tried to kill me.  She was wounded so badly because she had to open herself up to one of the guards’ attacks in order to stop the assassin from killing me.  The assassin was very angry that she caused him to miss me, and he kicked her in the head while she lay bleeding on the ground.  Aislynn’s guards arrived just after that, and they managed to dispatch the men before they could finish with Aislynn, or with me.”
Jackob nodded, hearing Eryk confirm Marja’s story.  There were just a few points that he was still hoping to clarify.
“You said ‘another assassin’.  How many have there been?”
“Well, Rupert killed one, and my guards killed another, aided by Rupert’s eesprid.  Aislynn killed one a few days ago, and this one makes four.”
Jackob was shocked.  Four highly skilled assassins were dead for one contract.  Granted, the contract involved two targets, but the guild still had a much higher level of acceptable loss than he would have thought, and he said so.
“Acceptable loss?” questioned Eryk.  “What do you mean?”
“Well, there is often a very stiff penalty when an assassin fails in a contract, but there is obviously no stiffer penalty than death.  It takes a lot of time and resources to train a good assassin, and it is common for a guild to declare a contract null, accepting whatever penalties come with that, when they have lost assassins while trying to fulfill it.  This last assassin was still pursuing an active contract when three of his guild mates were already dead.  Now, with four of them dead, I have to wonder who is throwing so much money at the guild and why it is so very important to see you dead.
“Marja mentioned that a Lord Branden headed up this attack.  What happened to him?” Jackob asked, moving on to his next question.
“That is a difficult thing to explain, since we don’t know all of the pieces yet.  Branden has been my friend since we were little boys, and he became my chief advisor when I became king.  Nevertheless, his behavior has been deteriorating, with him becoming more aggressive and unhinged with each passing day.  Finally, this morning, still drunk from last night or perhaps even earlier today, he snapped and tried to kill Aislynn.  He seems to view her as a threat.”
“That seems pretty straight forward to me,” Jackob commented.
“Well, it turns out that Branden has been taking some sort of substance.  The healers figure that it’s been poisoning him, warping his sense of reality.  They believe that this is why he’s been acting the way he has been, and the healers have started him on a course of leeches to try to clear the poison from his blood.  They are hoping that he will regain consciousness later today, since Aislynn didn’t hit him that hard, but they are also fairly certain that he won’t be able to maintain a coherent conversation until tomorrow or the day after.”
Jackob nodded in understanding, agreeing that the situation with Branden was indeed a little more complicated than it seemed on the surface.  He then asked his next question.
“Why did you come running when you heard Cheta?”
“I said that I was afraid that Aislynn was in trouble.” Eryk answered, confused.
“But why?  None of your guards came, so why would you?  And why would you assume that Cheta’s howls were a sign of trouble instead of a wolf just being noisy and communicative?”
“Cheta doesn’t make a lot of noise,” Eryk replied, “so I figured that if she was making that much noise, attracting that much attention, there had to be a reason.  And I came because I care about what happens to Aislynn…” 
Eryk trailed off, embarrassed by the revelation of his feelings to the father of the object of those emotions.  Who in their right mind went blabbering away to their prospective father-in-law?  Jackob chuckled, seeing his discomfort.
“Oh,” Jackob said, remembering one other piece of information that he wanted clarified.  “Who are these Madelians that the captain mentioned, and what do they have to do with this?”
“That’s something else that we are not entirely sure of.  The Madelian emissaries arrived here to try to come to a treaty agreement with my father shortly before he died.  It looks like Branden was receiving whatever substance he was taking from them, or at least their guards.  We know that Branden had been spending a lot of time with the guards recently, drinking, but we have no idea how the relationship between them started.  
“The two guards came with Branden to attack Aislynn this morning, and the assassin was dressed as a Madelian guard, so they were obviously familiar with him.  Byron suspects that the emissaries from Madelia were hiding the assassins here in the castle all along so that half of their work was already done for them, but we don’t know why.”
“Where are the emissaries now?” Jackob wanted to know.
“They are currently locked in their suite, with guards at the door and the windows so that they cannot escape.  I’ve been too busy here to question them.”
“And what about Lord Branden?  Where is he?”
“He keeps a suite in the castle, so he is currently there, also under guard.  There was a guard already stationed at Lord Collin’s residence in the city due to a prior issue, so Byron had sent another guard over for good measure, but we ended up being able to capture Branden without their aid, thanks to Aislynn.”
“So I assume that you are going to question Lord Collin soon too?”
Jackob’s question came as a surprise to Eryk.  He hadn’t thought about questioning Branden’s father.
“Why would I do that?” he queried.
“Well if Branden was working with Madelia, and you say that Madelia is here trying to negotiate a treaty while also trying to assassinate you, wouldn’t that mean that Branden could possibly have something to do with the attacks?”
Eryk hadn’t thought about it that way, and he still didn’t want to consider the possibility that his friend would turn on him like that.  But consider Aislynn, he told himself.  Branden is his friend one moment, and the next moment, he’s trying to kill the woman Eryk wants to marry.  Eryk had to ask himself, if Branden was capable of that, wasn’t it also possible that he was capable of organizing the assassination attempts?
“So it seems like I have a fair amount of work ahead of me,” Eryk said.  “But how can I…?”  He trailed off, glancing once again at the bed where Aislynn lay.
“Just what are your intentions toward my daughter?” Jackob asked, noting the pain and longing in Eryk’s gaze.
“Well your Majesty, if I can get her to accept, I’d like her to be my wife and queen.  I feel that she is the woman best suited for that particular role, and I know that I could make her happy.”  Eryk was feeling surer of himself and his feelings each time he confronted them.
“Oh you know that, do you?  Do you have any idea why she’s been so adamant that it won’t work?  And yes, I know that she’s been turning you down.”  At Eryk’s puzzled look, he continued.  “Try to think about things from her perspective before you continue pursuing her.  What, exactly, would make her happy, in your opinion?  Now take that opinion and compare it to what you know about her…  If, when you’ve done some honest thinking about the subject, you still feel that you could make her happy and that she’s the best one for you, then talk with her.  I expect the two of you need to work a number of things out if you want to make this work.”
“So you don’t have any objections?” Eryk asked, a little surprised.
“Not on a basic level, no, not as long as you can both work this out together.  Given your rather special connection, a relationship between the two of you would likely be more complicated than for most other couples, but it could be done, if you both tried hard enough.”
“Well…thank you, for that.  I just hope that we get the chance to talk about it.”
“Me too.  For now though, say goodbye and leave her to her guards.  You, my young king, have a lot to do, and you can’t do it while you’re pining away in here.  Since you seem to be down both an advisor and a bodyguard, I’d like to offer my services.  I think I can help you with your investigation, if you’d like me to.”
“I thank you for the offer, your Majesty, and I’d be more than willing to have your help with this.  Goodness knows, you have as much interest in getting this whole mess figured out as I do.”
Eryk did what Jackob asked, and stepped over to the bed.  This time, Cheta didn’t growl and snap at him, and he sat down carefully, taking Aislynn’s hand in his.  He leaned over carefully, and kissed her gently on her forehead.
“Please get well,” he whispered.
As he stood up, Eryk noticed a long, bloody scratch along Cheta’s back.  He reached out toward the wolf, running his fingers along the line very gently.  
“So that’s why,” he said softly, mostly to himself.
“What’s why?” Jackob asked, hearing Eryk’s statement despite his quiet tone of voice.
“The healers are fairly certain that Aislynn’s been poisoned,” he explained.  Jackob nodded, having heard this from Marja.  
“Well, they think that the poison is likely the same that killed Rupert, but they are not sure why it doesn’t seem to be affecting Aislynn as quickly as it did him.  If you look at Cheta’s back here, you can see where she was injured with a blade.  I bet the assassin stabbed Cheta first, thereby removing some of the poison from his blade, before he attacked Aislynn with it.  The poison isn’t affecting Aislynn the same way because there isn’t as much of it.  Hopefully that means that the antidotes they tried on her have a chance to work.”
Eryk’s conclusion made sense to Jackob, and Marja had commented that the assassin had injured Cheta.  There was corroborating evidence of sorts for his explanation, and it did make sense.
“But why isn’t Cheta sick?” Eryk wondered aloud.
“Likely because she’s an eesprid,” replied Jackob.  “They are not like the animals they appear to be.  They don’t age the same way, they don’t fall sick, and they need very little food and sleep.  And it looks like they don’t get poisoned the same way either.”
“Well, there isn’t any more that I can do here,” Eryk said resolutely as he made his way toward the door.  “Let’s go and get this investigation underway, shall we?”
Eryk led the way out of the room, followed by Jackob and Daki.  Cheta laid her head back down on the bedspread and sighed.  She hoped for Aislynn’s recovery as much as Eryk and Jackob did, and she needed to rest herself too, in order to heal the injuries that she had sustained.  She closed her eyes and, soothed by Aislynn’s rhythmic, if shallow, breathing, she slept.



Chapter 22

When Eryk left Aislynn’s room, followed by Jackob, he picked up a pair of his own guards, who were waiting outside of the room with Marcus, Mateo and Jackob’s pair.  Apparently, Byron had taken it upon himself to make sure that Eryk was still protected, considering Aislynn wasn’t currently able to do the job.  The six men made their way along the corridor to the other side of the castle, heading for Eryk’s rooms so that he could change before he started with his interrogations.  Eryk knew that he needed to look the part if anyone was going to take him seriously.
“So, your Majesty, who shall we begin with?” Jackob asked, settling himself onto a chair in the reception room while Eryk changed.  
“I was thinking that it would be best to begin with Lord Collin,” answered Eryk.  “We already know that Branden has some connection to the Madelians, so it is likely easiest to find out if Lord Collin had anything to do with this situation first.”
“That makes sense,” Jackob agreed.  “You can ascertain his guilt or innocence, and use that finding to determine your line of questioning for the Madelian emissaries.”
Eryk decided to opt for imposing as opposed to friendly, so he, Jackob and the four guards set themselves up in the throne room before Eryk sent a guard to summon Lord Collin and his daughter for questioning.
When Collin and Alexius arrived, Eryk noticed two things immediately – their appearances and their reactions.  Collin looked very tired, his clothing was in disarray, and he seemed to be in shock.  He was apparently surprised to see Jackob, who he recognized from years ago.  
“Jackob?” Collin asked.  “Is that you?”  He had known Jackob during his tenure as Tarren’s bodyguard, and seeing Jackob still hale and strong after all these years made his current state seem even more deplorable.  Jackob just nodded in acknowledgment of Collin’s greeting, but said nothing.
Alexius, on the other hand, was the total opposite of her father.  She had taken a lot of time and care with her appearance, and she had eyes only for Eryk, with a total lack of regard for any of the other men present.  She smiled shyly at Eryk, and started to take a step toward him, but he cut her off mid-stride with an upheld hand.
“I have summoned you both here as part of an ongoing investigation,” Eryk began coldly, getting right down to business.  “There was an attack this morning, and I want to know what role you both played in it.”
“What makes you think that we would have anything to do with another assassination attempt?” asked Collin, a little offended.
“The fact that the attempt wasn’t against me, but my protector, whose identity you knew, and the fact that your son led the attack,” stated Eryk.
Alexius paled a little at the implication, but Collin’s reaction was the most revealing.  He literally collapsed, falling to the floor unconscious.  Eryk turned to look at Jackob.
“He’s either the best actor in the world, or he honestly knew nothing about Branden’s plan to attack Aislynn,” Eryk commented.  Jackob, astounded by the sight of Tarren’s advisor on the floor, could only nod in agreement.  
“Her, I’m not so sure about,” Jackob said, indicating Alexius.
Alexius, who was looking down at her father with a look of contempt on her face, turned to face Eryk at the sound of Jackob’s voice.  The flirting looks were gone, replaced with anger and disdain.
“I had nothing to do with the attack on her, if that’s what you want to know,” she said.  “But I will admit that I won’t be sorry if she dies.  She’s unnatural, and you, my King, will be better off without her.”
Hearing Branden’s words echoed in her voice, Eryk knew that Alexius had been talking with her brother about Aislynn.  They had either both come to the same conclusions about her, or Alexius had been swayed by her brother’s opinion.  Listening to this woman denounce Aislynn without ever having spent time with her, without ever getting to know her, just proved to Eryk that Alexius was not meant to be his queen.
“You did know what Branden planned then,” Eryk stated.  “That makes you just as guilty as he is.  Regardless of your feelings about her, she is the princess of an allied kingdom, who was actually the delegate in residence at the time of the attack.  As such, you should have alerted someone to the threat.”
Eryk glanced over at Jackob, seeing anger starting to build, starting to wear away his impassive façade.  This was the ruler of said allied kingdom, and it was his daughter who had been assaulted and nearly killed.  Eryk had to punish Alexius appropriately, according to the customs of Bacovia, and severely enough to appease Jackob.
“It is not the custom of this court to execute members of the nobility, but we do imprison them.  You are hereby banished from court, to your choice of one of your family’s country estates.  You shall be escorted there, and a complement of guards will remain there to ensure that you never leave, so choose your prison wisely.”
As she heard the proclamation, Alexius’ face fell.  She knew what this sentence would mean; she would live her life alone except for servants, guards and whichever family members would risk visiting her.  She would never marry and never have children.  It was still a death sentence, but a slow one.  
“What about my father?  My brother?”
“Your father has little role here at court now, and he may choose to retire from court life.  It is his choice, but I will encourage him to join you.  As for your brother…  I will need to wait until he awakens and recovers a little from his injuries before I can pass judgment on him.  Depending, he may wish for execution before I’m done with him.”  The tone of voice that Eryk used left no doubt in Alexius’ mind that she was lucky that she’d had nothing to do with planning or executing the attack this morning.
With a snap of his fingers, Eryk summoned guards to escort Alexius away to her home to prepare for her banishment, while other guards helped Collin to the healers to ensure that his collapse was merely stress and not anything more serious.  Soon, Jackob and Eryk were alone in the throne room with their personal guards once more.
“That was well done,” Jackob complemented Eryk.  “Passing your first sentence as king is always difficult, and having to pass judgment when the accused is close to you makes the process even more complicated and difficult.”
Eryk sighed, and slumped a little on the throne.  “Well that’s one small piece of the puzzle, but she didn’t actually have anything to do with the attack.  She was only acting, or rather not acting, out of jealousy because of my growing relationship with Aislynn.  We are no closer to understanding what’s going on.”
Eryk straightened once more, determined at least to finish with the questioning of the various suspects before stopping for the day.  He turned to one of his nearby guards and called for the Madelian emissaries.
The Kardon and Sookra escorted into the throne room bore little resemblance to the cocky and self-assured diplomats that Eryk had met with on two prior occasions.  These gentlemen were cowering and afraid, now stripped of their guards and left alone to survive in what was fast becoming a very hostile kingdom.
“Gentlemen,” Eryk greeted them with a nod of his head.  “I assume that you know why you have both been summoned.  Your guards were involved in an attack this morning, and you have been called to answer for their behavior.”
“Have both of the guards been punished, your Majesty?” asked Kardon, who continued to fulfill his role as speaker for the pair.
“All three of them,” corrected Eryk.  He noticed that both men looked startled by this revelation.  They hadn’t been expecting the assassin to be caught and killed, apparently.
“We know about the assassin, and we suspect that he wasn’t the only one being harbored by your entourage during your stay here.”
“Assassin?” asked Sookra, trying to look innocent.  “We know nothing of any assassin.”
“You cannot honestly believe that I would think you innocent in this.  The assassin was wearing a Madelian guard uniform, and was obviously known by the guards he accompanied.”
“It must have been the guards who aided him,” explained Kardon.  “We knew nothing!  The fault is theirs alone, and they have been punished for their crimes.”
Eryk remained silent, glaring down at the pair from the throne, trying to look intimidating, and trying to make them believe he knew more than he did.  The ploy worked to a degree, and Sookra cracked first under the pressure.
“It was all arranged by his Lordship!” exclaimed Sookra, drawing a startled look from Kardon.  “We were paid a very large sum of gold for our help, and all we had to do was provide uniforms and a cover for the men.  His Lordship was very convincing, and the money was so easy to earn!  Please, be lenient.”
Eryk was surprised by the information pouring from Sookra, but it wasn’t really helping.  Now he knew that Branden had arranged for the Madelians to harbor the assassins, giving them easy access to the castle and everyone in it, including him.  However, Eryk didn’t know why, and it was so hard to believe that the man who had been his friend for his entire life would try to arrange his murder.  Perhaps he would need to make an exception to the execution rule for nobility…
“What about the medication that was being provided to Lord Branden?  How did that come about?” Eryk asked.
“One of our guards came upon Lord Branden one evening at a local tavern,” answered Kardon, apparently not going to allow his partner to be the only one to seek clemency.  “His Lordship complained of an aching head, and the guard provided him with a remedy that we commonly use back in Madelia.  When the remedy worked, his Lordship requested more of the medicine, and we obliged.  We were doing nothing wrong, your Majesty.”  Eryk wasn’t so sure about that, but he needed to talk to the healers before he could be certain.
Without their guards, Eryk felt confident that these two were not going to pose much of a threat.  The peace treaty they had been trying to negotiate was definitely not going to be completed in light of the current events, but Eryk needed to have a word with the queen of Madelia before making any formal decisions.
“The two of you will remain in your suite, under guard, while I confer with your monarch,” Eryk pronounced.  “You will need to seek permission if you wish to leave your suite for any reason.”  Eryk didn’t even wait for the emissaries to say anything, summoning a guard to escort them away as soon as he completed his ruling.
Jackob had remained silent during the entire exchange, and he spoke up now.
“Do you think that they are as innocent as they claim to be?” he asked.
“No, I think that they are considerably more involved than they claim to be.  Unfortunately, I cannot prove anything right now, and their diplomatic status makes interrogation difficult.  That same status made them perfect to harbor the assassins – absolutely perfect.”
Jackob stood up and stretched.  Even though they had not been at this for very long, it didn’t take long for his older joints and muscles to stiffen.  Ready to call it a day, he started to step down off the dais, but Eryk wasn’t finished yet.
“Summon the council,” he instructed a guard.  “Have them meet us here.”
Remembering what Aislynn had said about the role of the council, Eryk remained seated on the throne and did not have chairs brought in for the council members.  This would be brief enough that they didn’t have to sit, and having that little bit of intimidation working in his favor would only help him to establish his position with the council.
As the men gathered, they looked around the throne room, some in awe and others showing impatience.  Byron gave Eryk a curt nod of greeting as he entered and took a place at the back of the group.  
Eryk had determined that if he could not bring his rather disagreeable council to order quickly, he would start replacing the members.  This was his council, after all.  He cleared his throat, looking for silence, and as soon as he got it, he began.
“As you have likely all heard by now, there was an attack on Princess Aislynn this morning.  She was injured, but is currently resting comfortably.  The healers are reasonably certain that she will recover from her injuries soon.”  They didn’t have to know the truth of the matter; they would find that out later if it was deemed necessary that they know.
“Lord Branden is also recovering from injuries, and as he played a part in the attack, he is being removed from this council, at least temporarily.  In his place, I have appointed King Jackob of Evendell to act as my chief advisor.”  
The council erupted into chatter, each councilor trying to convince Eryk that he was better suited for the role.  Most of the councilors felt that having a foreigner as chief advisor was not in the best interest of the kingdom because his priorities would not be their priorities.  Needing to establish his leadership of this council quickly, Eryk promptly silenced the men, and continued.
“This is not a topic that is open for debate,” he stated.  “I feel that the current situation makes it difficult to have complete trust in someone who lives here in Bacovia, so having a chief advisor who does not have a personal agenda in relation to this kingdom and its throne is actually ideal.”
Eryk straightened up on the throne, letting his body language convey the importance of what he was about to say.
“Finally, the Madelian emissaries have been confined to their suite pending communication with their queen, and Lady Alexius has been banished from the court.  These actions were taken in response to the involvement of these persons in the attack this morning.  Further investigation is needed, and Captain Byron is leading that investigation.  I will report to you any updates I feel are necessary for you to know, as soon as I know them myself.”
With that, Eryk relaxed a little on the throne, and he waited while everyone digested the information, knowing that there would inevitably be questions.  When the questions finally started, Eryk was surprised because they were not the questions he had been expecting.
“Will the attack end the treaty agreement with Madelia?” one councilor wanted to know.
“The treaty agreement was never finished or finalized, but what progress had been made toward its completion will likely be undone by this situation, yes,” answered Eryk.
“We know that Alexius was among the ladies you were considering for your bride,” said Father Jonas, always the one to jump on this particular topic.  “Since you have banished her from the court, does that mean you have made your decision?”  There was hope in his voice as he asked his question.
“No decision has been made as of yet,” said Eryk, watching the faces of the assembled council fall.  “When a decision is made, I will let you know.  In the meantime, I will take as long as I need to make my choice, because this is not something that can be rushed, and you have no right to tell me to do so.”  Aislynn would be proud of me, he thought.  He was taking control of his council, not the other way around.
“Once his Majesty returns to his own kingdom, what will you do for a chief advisor?” Lord Geoffrey wanted to know.
“That is a decision I will make when it is necessary to do so,” answered Eryk.
Once Eryk had answered the council’s questions to the best of his ability, and the men had nothing left to ask, he dismissed the council with instructions for them to await his next summons.  When they were gone, he turned toward Jackob.
“So, what do you think?” he asked.
“Well,” answered Jackob slowly, “I think that you are showing your council that you are in charge, which is very important.  I think that you have made a lot of significant progress today, making decisions that will set the tone for your reign.  You are leaving an impression that you will be a strong king, not someone to be trifled with.  That is a good impression to be making, especially for a king with a country as large as yours.”
“And do you have any advice for me, oh chief advisor?” he asked, just a little playfully.
“I advise you to get a good rest tonight,” Jackob answered honestly.  “There is nothing more to be done today.  We know that Branden definitely had dealings with the Madelians, but until he wakes, we cannot pursue that trail any farther.  Hopefully tomorrow will bring more answers.”
Eryk, frustrated by having to wait, still admitted that what Jackob said was true.  Without the answers that only Branden could provide, this investigation was officially put on hold.



Chapter 23

The next dawn found Byron in the barracks’ courtyard, alone but for his shadow.  As he sparred with that shadow, his sword moving in smooth motions, a small part of him was expecting Aislynn to show up at any moment, keeping their appointment as she had every day since she had arrived, even when she was injured after the attack in the cathedral.  But a much larger part of him knew that it was impossible.  Byron knew that he was really going to miss his morning sessions with Aislynn if…  He shook his head, unwilling to finish that thought.
He had enjoyed his morning sparring with Rupert, and he and Rupert had been good friends, but his relationship with Aislynn was entirely different.  They had a lot in common, just like he and Rupert had had a lot in common, but the time he spent with her was a lot of fun.  She didn’t just come to fight in the mornings; she came to spar verbally too.  Her personality was so different from Rupert’s, and it colored everything she did.  He knew that he was closer to Aislynn than he had ever been to Rupert.  She was a much closer friend.
Byron was so lost in his thoughts that he was surprised when he heard footfalls close behind him.  He was turning, thinking that against the odds Aislynn was there after all, before he realized that she wouldn’t make that much noise.
“Eryk?” he asked, caught off guard by the person before him.  “What are you doing here?”  Byron knew that his tone of voice was inappropriate, but he couldn’t help himself.  
“It’s all my fault,” Eryk said simply.  
“You’re damn right it was your fault!” Byron exploded, letting his fear and anger loose.  “If you had kept the hell away from her, stayed out of the way, she wouldn’t be lying unconscious up in her room right now.  You may have killed her, you idiot!  You may have taken her away –” 
He immediately choked off what he had been about to say.  Byron was not about to admit his feelings to the other man competing for Aislynn’s affections, especially when he knew that it was the other man who would win.
After a few moments of silence, Eryk decided that Byron had stopped yelling at him, and he took a deep breath before speaking.
“You’re right, Byron, about everything.  If I hadn’t been there at all, this likely wouldn’t have happened.  She would have been able to hold her own for the few minutes left until Marcus and Mateo arrived.  But if we assume that I would have gone anyway, things could have ended very differently if I’d been able to help.  I can’t rely only on her to keep me safe. I have to be able to help keep myself safe, so you have to teach me.”
Byron took a good look at the young king, standing there before him with every fiber of his being screaming determination.  Then Byron noticed that he had a sword.
“You can’t be serious,” Byron stated with a small chuckle, his anger dissipated a little by the sheer ridiculousness of it.  “Eryk, I have known you for years, and I’ve seen you in sword practice many times.  You are far more likely to hurt yourself than you are to help her in a fight.  Heck, you could actually injure her!”
Eryk’s face fell, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.  He knew that Byron was right again, on all accounts.  He had given up regular sword training years ago, when he had proven himself pretty much useless, and it was only during intermittent sword practice with Branden that he even held a sword these days.
“There has to be something you can do,” he pleaded.
Byron turned away from the agonized look on Eryk’s face and went over to a bench to sit down and think for a minute.  He was still very angry at Eryk for endangering Aislynn, but the fact that Eryk was taking some responsibility for what had happened, and the fact that he wanted to make sure this sort of thing didn’t happen again, showed Byron that Eryk was finally growing up.  It would be a shame not to help him.  He knew that Eryk loved to hunt, and that he was a fair hand with a bow, so maybe they could work with that, at least as a place to start.
“What about if we settle for teaching you how to keep out of harm’s way, and perhaps aide from a distance?” he proposed.  “That way, you would be more of an asset than a liability.”
Eryk nodded eagerly, grateful that Byron hadn’t just sent him away without giving him a chance to prove himself.  He vowed to himself that he would give this training every ounce of effort he could; it was important for him, and it would also be important for Aislynn.
“Well then,” Byron continued, getting up from the bench and walking back toward Eryk, “since you brought a sword, let’s start with that.  Your goal is a simple one – don’t get hit.”  And he launched an attack at Eryk’s head, sword coming in from the right.
Eryk, caught off guard, brought his sword up too slowly to parry Byron’s attack.  The captain brought his sword to a halt just inches away from the king’s neck.
“We definitely need to work on those reflexes,” Byron stated.  “You’re dead.  Let’s try again.”
Eryk spent the next hour or so being run around the courtyard by Byron, using a combination of clumsy parries and desperate movements to stay out of his ‘attacker’s’ way.  
Byron rather enjoyed himself, and he could easily envision Aislynn helping with Eryk’s training when she was feeling up to it.  Perhaps she could sit and throw daggers at Eryk while he tried to dodge or block them, Byron thought, before remembering how good she was at that particular game.  If she felt that Eryk was responsible for her current state, it likely wouldn’t be safe for the king if Byron were to let her anywhere near him.
By the time Eryk was finished for the morning, which Byron determined by the fact that Eryk could barely walk due to exhaustion, Byron was reasonably certain that he would be able to teach him how to parry properly.  Teaching him to keep out of the way entirely would be his first priority, however, as well as some target practice with bow and dagger.  Aislynn would be able to teach him a thing or two about that, he was certain.  They agreed to meet again the next morning, and Eryk made his slow way back to the castle to prepare himself for the day.
Breakfast that morning was very different for Eryk.  He had skipped breakfast yesterday, caught up in the events of the morning, so this was his first meal without Branden.  It felt so strange not having his friend there beside him, like a part of him was missing.  Even if that part hadn’t been particularly nice or enjoyable recently.  Jackob was there with Byron, and Durham, Cora and Davin joined the three of them for their meal.
Once again, the eesprid attracted Davin's attention, and Jackob’s fox was as eager to let the boy stroke her as Cheta usually was.  The fox, being considerably smaller than Aislynn’s wolf, was able to escape Durham’s notice for a while, and Davin had learned from his previous experiences.  He stayed close to his mother to avoid Durham’s immediate reprimand, and played with Daki under the table.  The fox happily obliged by sitting close to him, but on the side away from Cora so that she couldn’t intervene.  Davin wasn’t sure why his uncle disliked the animals so much, but he liked them a lot!  
The meal, for the most part, was a somber affair, and nobody wanted to linger after they finished eating.  It didn’t take very long for Jackob to be left alone with Eryk and Byron.  Jackob had noticed the attention his eesprid had been paying to Davin, and figured that now was as good a time as any to bring it up.
“Eryk,” he began, “that young boy, Davin.  Has he spent any time with Aislynn’s Cheta?”
“Yes, a couple of times, why?” Eryk answered.
“It is unusual for the eesprid to be so taken with anyone besides their other halves, and my Daki seemed to be very fond of him.”
“I’ve seen him playing with Cheta,” inserted Byron.  “She had him on the ground once, licking his face and everything.”
“Hmmm.  What is the boy’s relation to you?” Jackob asked Eryk.
“He’s my cousin, the son of my father’s brother.  He is also my heir.  Why?”
“Well, in Evendell, children who are drawn to the eesprid like he is are special, and they often end up receiving special training.  How old is the boy?”
“He’s eight,” said Byron.  “What kind of special training?  Like your training?”
“No,” Jackob shook his head.  “Our training begins considerably earlier, and it is totally different than the training we would give Davin.  You may want to consider having someone from Evendell come to test the boy, as you don’t have the right kind of people here.”
“What are you talking about?” Eryk wanted to know.
“It’s complicated,” answered Jackob.  “You know about the pact that joins our kingdoms, yes?  Well, it is a magical pact, having its beginnings in a spell that was cast long ago, though the effects of that spell have morphed over the decades.  We still retain a special group of people who are able to cast spells like that, and I think that Davin may be one of those people.  At home, they are traditionally identified by the eesprid, who are drawn to their magical talents.”
“Why haven’t I ever heard anything about that?” asked Eryk.  “Davin was born here, so the talent is obviously something that can surface in Bacovia as well as in Evendell.  Why don’t we have these people?”
“I’m really not sure,” admitted Jackob.  “Your healers still have the ability to use magic to augment their healing salves and medications, and there used to be people in both nations with the ability to cast the more powerful spells.  I suspect that the ability to train them was lost here, so they simply go unrecognized.  As I said, it is the eesprid that identify the talent in Evendell, and you don’t have eesprid here.”
“Well, I can certainly see no harm in having Davin tested, and if he does have the talent, I see no harm in having him trained,” said Eryk.  “Go ahead and send for your people.”
“If he was to be trained, he would have to go to Evendell.  You don’t have the facilities here, and I couldn’t afford to send you all of the people who would be needed to help with his training.”
“I actually think that sending Davin away would be a very good thing for the boy,” threw in Byron.  “He’s been on his own for so long, with only his mother and uncle.  I think that he would benefit from an experience like that, and the sooner the better.”  
That settled the issue, as far as Eryk was concerned, and the three of them moved on to other duties.
Just before Byron left, Eryk caught him by the shoulder.
“Thank you for this morning,” he said, sincerely.  “And I’m sorry to add to your duties.”
“What do you mean?” asked Byron.  “Helping to make you less of a danger to yourself and others is technically part of my duties,” he said with a smile.
“No, that’s not what I meant.  I banished Alexius from court yesterday, for her role in the attack on Aislynn.  I’m going to need a couple of guards permanently assigned to whichever of the country estates she chooses for her exile.”
Byron thought about that for a moment, and then nodded his head.  “That won’t be any trouble,” he said.  “I’ll send a full squad to escort her out to the estate, and leave two behind to guard her.  It will be a good assignment for the men who are getting on in years, or those who are recovering from injuries.  Don’t trouble yourself about it, your Majesty.  When is she leaving?”
“Today would be best, but tomorrow could work if you need more time to get your men organized.”
“No, today will be fine.  I’ll pick the men right now, and they can leave the city this afternoon.”  
Eryk nodded his thanks, and Byron left to get everything arranged.  He turned to Jackob, and the two of them left the dining hall, heading upstairs toward Branden’s suite to check on his progress.
The healers were closely monitoring Branden’s condition, and there was one in the reception room of his suite when they arrived.  He rose, bowing low to the kings.
“Good morning, your Majesties,” he said.  “You will be happy to know that Lord Branden is awake this morning, though he is not feeling very well.”
“What can you tell us about his condition?” asked Jackob.
“Well, for one thing, we do not know exactly what the seeds are.  They must come from a plant that’s found only in the north.  We have been able to determine that the seeds Lord Branden has been taking are a very powerful painkiller, certainly more powerful than what he was getting from us.  
“According to the report we received from you yesterday, the Madelian emissaries stated that his first exposure to the seeds was apparently accidental, merely a case of the guard sharing a medication when Lord Branden was in need.  The fact that this worked better than his previous medication likely explains why he continued to take it.  Unfortunately, we have also determined that there are some rather severe side effects, most of which you have undoubtedly noticed.  The seeds seem to take fears, suspicions and aggression, and augment them.”
“So Branden was not in his right mind when he attacked the princess?” Eryk asked, a touch of hopefulness in his voice.
“Not exactly, your Majesty.  If you consider the effects of the seeds, combined with the reduced inhibitions associated with excessive alcohol, then no, he was not in his right mind.  However, it is important to note that as far as we can tell, the seeds are not hallucinogens.  That means that all of the thoughts and feelings he had were simply magnified by the effects of the medication, not created by them.  
“It was still Lord Branden who said and did those things, acting on thoughts that were buried in his psyche, but he likely wouldn’t have said nor done any of those things if not for the seeds.  
“It has been more than a day since he’s taken that medication, and we’ve helped remove the poison of it from his system with leeches, so he’s likely more like his old self now than he’s been in days.”
Eryk thanked the man, and walked over to the window.  He stood staring out over the castle, mulling over the information the healer had given him.  He couldn’t decide if this was all deliberate or merely a case of a bad decision with terrible consequences.  He had to talk to Branden, to get the story from him, before he could make any decisions about what to do with him.
When Eryk entered the bedroom, quite the sight greeted him.  The healer had said that Branden wasn’t feeling well, and he certainly couldn’t disagree with that statement, considering Branden’s skin was an interesting shade of green.  The lovely deep purple of the knot on his temple also complemented the green of his skin, and Eryk guessed that between the hangover and the concussion, Branden likely felt horrible.  Serves him right, thought Eryk, angrily.  He didn’t say anything though; he just stood there waiting for Branden to begin.
“Eryk, I’m so glad to see you,” he began uncertainly.  “I…I don’t know what to say.  I could say that I’m sorry, but I know that it wouldn’t be enough.”
Eryk said nothing, but simply gestured to Jackob, who then entered the room.
“Branden, I’d like to introduce you to his Majesty, King Jackob of Evendell.  He’s acting as my chief advisor while you are incapacitated.”
It took a moment, but Branden pieced the information together and turned an even sicklier shade of green.  If this was the King of Evendell, then that meant this was Aislynn’s father.  The same Aislynn who he had attacked the day before, and the same King who had acted as Tarren’s bodyguard for years.  Branden sank back into his pillows, shrinking away from Jackob with a look of horror on his face.  Eryk smiled cruelly.
“We’d like to hear your version of what happened yesterday,” he said.  Branden swallowed, and took a deep breath.
“All I ever wanted was for us all to be together – you as king, me as your advisor, and Alexius as queen.  It would have been perfect, but then she came and threw everything out of kilter.”
“What I don’t understand is how you could turn on me like that!  We were friends, Branden.”  The hurt was evident in Eryk’s voice.
“I don’t know when things got out of control, but the more time you spent with her, the angrier I got.  I was mostly angry with you, because you were messing everything up.  You wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to talk to you, but I was also angry with her, and she seemed to be the easiest one to get rid of.  I admit that I didn’t quite think that one through.”
“So you just added her onto the contract, figuring that you needed professional help?  How did you even get involved with the Madelians and the Black Scorpions in the first place?”
“I met up the Madelian guards one evening when I was out in the city.  I was feeling angry, like usual, and went to have a drink.  While I was there, one of those horrible head pains started, and the guard offered me something that really took the edge off.  Things just built from there.  But I have no idea who the Black Scorpions are.  And what contract?”
“You hired the assassins, didn’t you?  The ones from the Black Scorpion guild.  And you had them try to kill Aislynn to make it easier to get to me.  One of the three men with you yesterday was a professional assassin, Branden.”
“What?  I would never… How could you think that?  The first assassination attempt happened before Aislynn even got here, and it was only Aislynn I had a problem with.  Why would I want you dead?  You’re my best friend, for crying out loud.”
“That was what I wanted to know,” Eryk said, totally frustrated by the circular conversation.  Jackob, seeing the level of aggravation building between the two young men, decided that it was time for him to step in.
“So let me see if I have this all straight,” he said.  “The first assassination attempts happened before the two of you started having issues, and you, Branden, had nothing to do with it.  However, after my daughter arrived and started to put holes in your perfect little plan, you became resentful toward her and wanted to get rid of her.  Around the same time, you also started taking some unknown medication from people who represented a hostile country, and you actually continued to take that unknown medication after that first time.  
“While under the effects of said unknown medication, you actually got to the point where you decided to try and kill a trained assassin so that your friend would choose to marry your sister.  The fact that one of the men with you was also a trained assassin was merely a coincidence.  Does that about sum things up?”
Branden nodded, blushing.
“Well, your Majesty, I’m not sure how to advise you in this particular case, but it seems to me that your former chief advisor is an idiot.”  And Jackob turned and left the room, leaving Eryk to deal with his friend.
“So what’s going to happen now?” Branden asked.
“Well, I banished your sister from court yesterday, so there is absolutely no chance that I will be marrying her.”  
At Branden’s startled look, he explained.  
“You told her all about your plan to kill Aislynn, though I have no idea if you remember doing so.  She decided not to act on that information, making her an accomplice to an attempted murder.  If she were not nobility, I would have had her hanged.”
“Attempted murder?  I was drunk, and she’s…well she is what she is.  There’s no possible way that could be construed as attempted murder.  I didn’t stand a chance.”
“She still hasn’t woken up, Branden,” Eryk said solemnly.  “Weren’t you listening?  When you went to her room yesterday, you brought three Madelian guards with you, one of whom was actually an assassin from the guild who was contracted to kill me.  The same guild that killed my father.  After she knocked you out – which was really good of her, because I would have killed you – Aislynn had to fight all three of them.  
“She’s lucky to be alive at all, and the healers aren’t certain if she’ll ever recover.  If she dies, Branden, it’s a murder charge against you.  Murder of a foreign princess, which will have huge political consequences, because regardless of what her role is here, she is still a princess of Evendell.”
“Eryk, I swear I didn’t know,” Branden said, desperate to prove to Eryk that it had all been a stupid, brainless mistake.  “I had been drinking with them, and I knew that they followed me… Heck, they had been egging me on to go and deal with her.  I didn’t know that they would pick up the attack when I fell, and I definitely didn’t know that one of them was an assassin.”
“Jackob’s right, Branden.  You are an idiot.”  Eryk turned to leave the room, but Branden stopped him.
“Eryk,” he called.  “I will do whatever it takes to make this up to you, and to her.  Please, give me a chance.  I wasn’t thinking straight, or acting straight.  I won’t say it wasn’t my fault, but…  You know me Eryk and you know I wouldn’t do something like this.  Please.”
“You’re very lucky that the healers agree with you.  They have told us that you were not acting like you normally would have, that the effects of those seeds were making you aggressive and building up your fears and suspicions.  But how am I supposed to trust you, Branden?  What’s to say you won’t do something like this again?”
“I swear that I will only ever take the medicines the healers give me, and I swear that I will do whatever you ask.  I understand if you don’t want me to be your advisor anymore, and I will understand if you banish me along with my sister.  I deserve both of those things.  But if you let me try, if you let me make this up to you both, I will be the best advisor that this kingdom has ever seen, and I will walk Aislynn down the aisle if that is what you want me to do.  I promise.”
“I don’t know, Branden,” Eryk said.  “I need to think.  I just don’t know right now.  I suggest you pray that Aislynn wakes up though, because she may be able to save you.”
Eryk walked out of the room, meeting Jackob and their guards outside, and leaving Branden to think about what he had said.



Chapter 24

The next morning found Eryk reporting to Byron for lessons, just as he had promised.  This time, having warning, Byron had prepared exactly what he was going to teach.  There was an archery target set up against the far wall and a pair of heavy wooden swords waiting in the center of the courtyard.  Eryk looked around, wondering what Byron had in store for him.
“Good morning, your Majesty,” Byron called, walking into the courtyard.  He was carrying a short bow and a quiver of arrows.  “Your first activity this morning will be archery practice.”
Eryk smiled, grateful that at least he was able to start with something he was fairly good at.  He was sure that there was no worse way to start a day than being utterly humiliated.  He walked across the courtyard, heading toward the target that Byron had set up.
“Where are you going?” Byron called.  “We’ll be holding our practice over here.”
Eryk turned, and looked from Byron, at one side of the courtyard, to the target at the other side.  There was about one hundred feet separating the two.  It wasn’t so great a distance, and Eryk just shrugged and turned back the other way.
“The goal, if you remember, is to teach you to keep out of the way.  You are a decent shot, if I remember correctly, so you can be the greatest help if you are out of melee and shooting into it.  However, in order to make sure you don’t kill your allies with badly aimed arrows, you are going to need to practice.  A lot.”
That made sense to Eryk, and he set about his practice with gusto.  Byron, happy to see that Eryk was truly committed to this, or at least the part he was good at, decided to let him empty the quiver four times before calling it quits.  Eryk had hit the target with every arrow he had shot, but not many of them were near the center.  Definitely more archery practice for him, Byron silently confirmed.
The second half of their exercises involved the heavy practice swords.
“As much as I’d love for you to never be involved in melee combat,” Byron explained, “I have to be realistic.  We will be practicing your parries every day, so that if you do find yourself attacked directly, you can hold off your attacker until help can get to you.”
Again, this made perfect sense to Eryk, and he bent down to grab a sword.  Lifting it off the ground was not as easy as he had thought it would be, however.
“Why do these things have to be so heavy?” he groaned.
Byron shook his head.  “It really has been a long time, hasn’t it?  This is what happens when your only ‘sparring practice’ is with a fencing blade against Branden.  You will be using that sword, which is the same length and width as a standard long sword, but heavier, because it will build up the muscles in your shoulders and arms.  And then, when you inevitably have to use a real sword, it will be easy to wield because it will seem very light to you.”
Byron attacked, slowly and methodically, allowing Eryk time to get his sword into position properly for the parries.  He wanted Eryk to learn to parry properly, as it would be considerably safer for everyone than just letting him wail around with a sharp piece of metal in his hands.  
The exercises were exhausting, more so for Eryk, but Eryk gave it his all for as long as he could, which is all Byron could ask for.  When they were finished, the two men sat down on one of the benches, thereby letting Eryk catch his breath before making his way back to the castle.
“Everything went fine, escorting Alexius out to the country yesterday afternoon,” Byron said, making conversation while Eryk rested.  “She didn’t put up any fuss at all.  I think she realizes how lucky she is to only be exiled to a lovely country home.”
“Did Lord Collin go with her?” Eryk asked.
“No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he follows her there eventually.  He seems very tired and ill since Tarren died, and I think the country would be a better place for him to spend his remaining years,” Byron said, echoing Eryk’s own thoughts.  “What are you going to do about Branden?”
Eryk shook his head, still uncertain about that.
“The only thing that I do know is that I cannot have him as my advisor.  He has shown incredibly poor judgment, and I can’t have someone like that in a position of such authority.  The healers agree with his statement that he was not in his right mind, so I believe I will let him remain at court.  He seems very sorry for what happened, and I would really like to have my friend back, if possible.”
“That seems reasonable to me, and it’s not like you can’t change your mind later if he proves to be a liability.  Who will replace him on your council?”
“King Jackob will retain that role until after the funeral,” Eryk said.  “He’ll be here until that time anyway, and he’s certainly experienced.  I’m learning a lot from him.  After that, I really don’t know.  I had always assumed that it would be Branden fulfilling that role, and so I’ve never really looked for anyone else.”
No longer feeling like his arms were going to fall off, Eryk excused himself to return to the castle and begin his day.  He dressed and went to visit Branden, wanting to get that awkwardness over with before breakfast.
Branden was still asleep when Eryk entered, but he awoke quickly enough.  He looked a lot better today, not nearly so green, and his blue eyes held a sparkle that had been missing these past days.
Eryk didn’t wait for any greetings or civilities, and instead got right to the matter at hand.
“Branden,” he said, “you know that I cannot have you as my chief advisor any longer.  Your poor judgment will always be a stain on your record, and it will affect how others perceive my proclamations if you are seen advising me.  However, given that you acted under the effects of a foreign substance, I have decided to allow you to remain at court.  I’m hoping that our friendship can be what it once was.”
Branden listened to Eryk’s announcement with a somber expression on his face, and he nodded in acceptance of Eryk’s decree, not really surprised by the decision.
“I’m glad that you’re giving me a chance to prove my friendship, Eryk,” he said.  “The healers said that I could be up again tomorrow.  Maybe we could do something?  We could go hunting or hawking, just to clear the air and start getting things back to normal.”
Eryk smiled a little at Branden’s request.  “I will have to get back to you about that,” he said.  “There are still a lot of things going on right now that need to be sorted out before I can take any time for myself.  I will let you know though, hopefully soon.”
Branden smiled back, hesitantly, and Eryk left for the dining hall.  As he was about to enter, a servant came rushing up to him, curtseying quickly.  
“Your Majesty,” she said breathlessly, “you asked to be summoned when the princess awoke–” She didn’t even have to finish her statement.  Eryk turned back the way he had come, taking the stairs two at a time in his eagerness to see Aislynn.  
When he arrived at her door, still guarded by Marcus and Mateo, Eryk slowed his mad pace and knocked quietly.  He knew that they were expecting his arrival, but he wanted to be polite.  He didn’t know how she was doing, or who was already there, and he felt that it would be prudent to keep things quiet for now.
Marja answered the door, and Eryk nodded to her as he entered the room.  There was a healer on duty in the reception room, but Eryk could hear no voices, so he assumed that he was the first one there.
“How is she?” he asked the room in general.
“She is very weak, having lost a lot of blood, and the head wound is making her dizzy and ill.  I’m not sure how long she will be awake for, so you had better go in now,” answered the healer.  Eryk didn’t need to be told twice.
He entered Aislynn’s bedchamber, immediately noticing that Cheta had moved to the other side of the bed.  Either she felt that Aislynn no longer needed guarding, which was unlikely, or she felt that Aislynn didn’t need protection from him.  
Aislynn looked tiny and fragile.  Her brown hair, darkened with sweat, made her skin seem even paler in comparison.  She looked almost translucent, and definitely not like the young woman he remembered from two days ago, full of energy and fire.  He sat down gently on the edge of her bed and took her hand.  Her eyes fluttered open and their gazes met.
“I’m so glad that you are awake,” whispered Eryk.  “I was so worried that you would…” 
“Sorry, but it looks like you’re stuck with me for a while yet,” she answered with a brief smile.  “How long have I been out?” she asked, very softly.
“Two days,” he replied.  “Considering the poison and the injuries you sustained, the healers weren’t sure you were going to make it.  We’ve been taking shifts so that someone has always been here in case…”  Eryk stumbled to a halt, having trouble dealing with all of the emotion he was feeling.  He had been so close to losing her.
Aislynn looked confused, and lay there for a moment as if trying to remember what had happened.  She tried to take a deep breath, attempting to focus her muddled thoughts, but the movement sent a wave of pain through her, leaving her gasping.  The pain did clear her thoughts for a moment though.
“You are a very stupid man,” she told him.  “And you are going to get me killed if you keep this up.”
“I know, and I’m so very sorry,” Eryk responded.  Aislynn stared at him in shock, never expecting that he would actually agree with a statement like that, regardless of whether or not it was true.
“Did you just say what I think you said?” she asked.
Eryk nodded.  “I know that I’m to blame for the way things ended, and I’m going to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.  Byron is teaching me… What?”
She suddenly had a bit of sparkle to her eyes.  “Byron is teaching you.  So that you don’t get me killed?”  She smiled, and started to chuckle, but that just caused another wave of pain.
“Your father is here,” Eryk said, changing the subject before she injured herself laughing at him.  “He arrived the day before yesterday.  He’s been acting as my advisor until I find a replacement for Branden…” His voice trailed off, an idea suddenly occurring to him.
“Why don’t you be my chief advisor?” he asked her.  Aislynn just looked at him, and then opened her mouth to say something, but he put a finger across her lips.  “Just hear me out,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past couple of days, and regardless of what you think, I still believe that you would be perfect as my queen.  But you need to be happy, and I need to be able to make you happy, for that to work.  You are not like the women here.  You have been taught to be independent and you think for yourself, though you should likely think a little bit more before you say whatever comes into your head.  I can give you a position that will allow you to be independent and think for yourself, and since you tell me what to do anyway, it would be perfect.”
He had taken his finger away from her mouth and she tried to speak again, but he wasn’t done yet.
“I took your advice and I told my council that they are my council and are here to advise me, not to make the decisions.  And it felt really good to assert myself.  You would be an asset to me, as my advisor, and it would give you a reason to be with me all the time.  So what do you say?”  Eryk paused, and knelt down beside the bed.  “Aislynn, will you be my chief advisor?” he asked, with a smile.
During this whole speech, Aislynn could feel Eryk’s emotions pouring through the link between them.  They were always more powerful and clear when he was close to her, and she could feel his love for her.  She could also feel his conviction that this was the right thing to do, his belief that this would be perfect, for both of them.  In all honesty, faced with his argument and with his emotions, she couldn’t deny his request.  With a smile, she nodded her head weakly.
“You’re likely going to have to come here to get advice though,” she said.  “I’m not sure when I’m going to be able to get out of here.”  She made a weak gesture to indicate the confines of her room.
Aislynn could feel how happy she had made Eryk when she accepted the position he had offered her, and it made her feel good.  She was also relieved that he was obviously not going to press the marriage question, because she didn’t feel up to arguing with him right now.  Suddenly, she felt very tired, and she couldn’t hold back a yawn.
Eryk, seeing how exhausted she was from continuing to fight the poison and heal her multiple injuries, leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead, carefully avoiding the bruises as best he could.
“I’ll come back later and fill you in on what has happened over the past two days.  Rest now, and get your strength back.  Cheta, Marja, Marcus and Mateo are keeping watch over you right now, and Byron has a pair of guards trying to keep me safe, so don’t worry about anything.”  He brushed her hair gently back from her forehead, and left the room.



Chapter 25

When Aislynn awoke again, the sun shining through the window indicated that it was now afternoon.  She could feel a presence in the room, and she turned her head to see her father sitting in a chair beside the bed.  She smiled, and he smiled back, happy to see her awake.
“Good afternoon, darling,” he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.  “The healers say that you are healing well, but it’s going to take time.  They were mostly concerned about the poisoned cut across your back and the fact that you got kicked in the head, but the antidotes seem to have worked, and you are awake, so they now predict a full, if slow, recovery.”
“That’s good to know,” she said, trying to shift into a position where she was sitting up a little, and failing miserably.  Jackob reached over to help her up, and she smiled at him gratefully.
“You have a very nasty sword wound across the front of you, from shoulder to hip,” he informed her, “so please take it easy.  The healers also inform me that your cracked ribs are still healing, and they said to tell you that if you don’t listen to them this time, they are going to tie you to your bed.”  
Her father’s voice was stern, but the sparkle in his eyes told her that he approved of what she had done.  He understood that sometimes you had to sacrifice yourself for the greater good, regardless of what the healers told you to do.
“You have quite the young man there, you know,” he said.
“He’s not my young man,” she argued.
“Oh really?” Jackob asked, not convinced.  “You didn’t hear him pouring his soul out to Cheta the other day, begging her to let him near you.  Of course, you don’t need to have heard it…  I know that you can feel what he’s feeling.”
Aislynn sighed.  She couldn’t hide the link from her father because he’d had one with Tarren.  “It can’t work.  How am I supposed to protect him and be a queen at the same time?”
“I personally don’t see a problem with that.  Eryk tells me that you agreed to become his chief advisor.  What do you think a queen does?  You’re already fulfilling the role without the title.”
“But what about…”
“Stop,” Jackob said, interrupting her.  “I’m not going to try to convince you to do something you don’t want to do.  You know his feelings for you; he can’t lie about them or make them up.  That gives you an advantage most other women would kill for.  You need to ask yourself what your feelings are for him, and use that as a guide for making your decision, not this idea of what your duty is or what it could be.”
Aislynn thought about that for a moment before answering her father.  “I really enjoy the time I spend with him, at least now, and I think that we are becoming very good friends.  I honestly don’t know if I feel more than that.”
“Well, the pact that binds our realms sent you.  If all Eryk needed was a friend, I expect that it would be your brother sitting here, not you.  I think that you need each other, and I’d like you to think about that before you make a final decision.”  
Jackob leaned closer to his daughter.  “It has worked out before, and it would work out again,” he said, knowing some of her reservations from his conversations with Marja about the young king and Eryk’s relationship with Aislynn.
“What do you mean?”
“It is a pretty rare thing for a female to be sent here, but it has happened before,” he explained.  “Don’t you remember what I told you when you were first assigned here? A number of generations ago, when the pact was first created, the king fell in love with his protector, and she with him.  She was commonly born though, not nobility, so their relationship had its own problems, but they worked it out.  Things have a way of working out if you want them too.”
Jackob stood, getting ready to leave and return to his duties as advisor.  
“Rest and get well,” he said as he left.  “Your king seems to be a bit prone to attracting danger, so you’ll need all of your strength as soon as possible, I think.”


The next time Aislynn woke, it was evening.  Someone, likely Marja, had lit the lamps in her room, and it was in the dimness of the candle light that she saw Byron waiting for her to wake.  She smiled when she saw him.
“You’re a difficult little wench to kill, aren’t you?” he asked with a smile of his own.
“If Eryk keeps on the way he has been, they’ll get me sooner or later,” she replied.  “I hear he’s making an effort to avoid that particular fate.”
“True, he is.  I’ve been running him around the courtyard these past two mornings, trying to teach him to stay out of the way.  I figure if he can hold his own until help arrives, everyone else’s job will be a lot easier.”
“Well, I for one thank you for your time and effort.  Know that I appreciate anything that makes my job easier!”
They shared a laugh, and then Byron turned somber.  He leaned forward in his chair and rested his hands on Aislynn’s blanket.  
“I want you to watch your back, as best you can,” he said.  “We have managed to rule out Branden and his family as actually being involved with the assassination attempts, but we also know for certain that Madelia is involved somehow.  They know about you, which makes you a huge target, especially being laid up as you are.  I know that Marcus and Mateo are good men, and Cheta will help to keep you safe, but trust nobody.”
Aislynn nodded, understanding that there was more to what Byron was saying than just concern for her well-being.  She didn’t have to wait long for him to explain the rest of his thoughts.
“Eryk was a changed man, waiting to find out if you would make it or not.  I know that you don’t need me pestering you, and I’m not going to do it.  I’m just asking you to be careful for his sake, too.”
“You too?  I expected that you at least wouldn’t be pushing me to marry Eryk.  I mean…  We’ve become close, haven’t we?  And I was pretty sure that you felt–”
“Don’t!” Byron interrupted her.  “Don’t say it.”
He looked her in the eye and then dared to take her hand gently.
“If you don’t say it out loud,” he said softly, “it makes it less real, less…painful.  I know, I’ve always known, that I didn’t stand a chance with you.  Hell, you’re a princess and I’m just the son of a thatcher!”
“That doesn’t matter to me,” she protested.  “You know that.”
“Yes, I do know that,” Byron agreed.  “That’s one of the many things that I love about you.  You’re willing to accept me for me.  But that’s not the point here.  You were meant for him, I can see that, and I’m too loyal to my king to let my feelings get in the way of what’s best for him.”
“Oh Byron,” Aislynn sighed.  “We get along so well, and we have so much in common.  I have thought about it and while you haven’t come out and said anything until now…  Well, I just don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.”  
Rising from his chair, Byron moved over to the bed.  Placing his hands ever so gently on either side of Aislynn’s face, he leaned forward and kissed her.  The moment his lips met hers, he felt her shudder gently and then she kissed him back.  He felt her lips part beneath his, and he accepted her invitation, kissing her deeper.
“Thank you,” Byron whispered as he pulled back a short while later.  “I’ve wanted to do that for awhile.  Now you know for certain how I feel about you, I know how you feel about me, but that’s as far as it can ever go.  You can’t ever be mine, no matter how much I wish it were otherwise.”
Byron settled back into the chair beside the bed while Aislynn closed her eyes and let her thoughts run rampant.  The silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t an awkward silence.
“What am I going to do about Eryk?” Aislynn asked, finally speaking.  “He needs to realize that if I do my job properly, I will very likely die before he does, and considering his current record, it seems very likely that I will die while protecting him.  He does know that, right?” she asked, frustrated.
“Oh, I’m sure he realizes it, logically,” said Byron, “but logic has little to nothing to do with how the heart works.  I’m not sure what it is about you, but you have certainly changed him, and I think it’s for the better.  You’ve changed a lot of us.”  This last he said with a smile.
Aislynn shook her head weakly and closed her eyes, trying to wrap her head around everything going on right now.  Everyone who came in here wanted the same thing, but they all wanted it for a different reason.  Eryk loved her and wanted to marry her because that is what you do when you love someone, in an ideal world.  Her father thought that the magic of the pact had brought her here to marry Eryk, because they needed each other.  Byron felt that Eryk was a better man for her presence, and wanted her to stay to continue her changes on him, despite his own feelings for her.  Marja was just a hopeless romantic and couldn’t resist a good relationship.  Maybe she was fighting a losing battle, trying to avoid wedding bells.
By the time Aislynn had finished sorting through the thoughts in her head and opened her eyes again, Byron was gone.  A healer came into the room to check her dressings and give her another dose of painkillers, and Aislynn drifted off to sleep wondering who would be waiting for her next time she woke.



Chapter 26

Eryk was fuming when he showed up to meet with Byron the next morning.  He hadn’t slept well, having spent a lot of time the previous afternoon and evening trying to get answers from the Madelian emissaries, alone and together, and then he had spent most of the night agonizing over his lack of progress.  He was getting absolutely nowhere, and due to their diplomatic status, he was unable to do anything more than question them.  
He knew that there was a traitor in his court, and he knew that they knew who it was.  It was so incredibly frustrating not to be able to do anything to pry the information from them.  He was currently leaning toward thumbscrews and breaking bones.
Byron noticed Eryk’s mood right away.  Even if he hadn’t heard Eryk coming from a mile away, what with his grumbling and muttering, just one look at the scowl on the king’s face would have clued him in.  Byron had the perfect exercise for Eryk’s mood.
“Chopping wood?” Eryk asked, flabbergasted, a short while later.  “It’s the middle of summer!  Why would I want to chop wood?”
“I didn’t ask you if you wanted to chop wood,” Byron stated sternly, “I told you to do it.  It’s good for building up those muscles in your shoulders and arms.  Besides, the kitchen needs wood year round.  How do you think your food gets cooked?
So Eryk did as he was told, picking up the axe and starting to chop the wood that Byron laid out for him.  He found that the exercise was good for working out some of his frustration too, and he soon fell into a rhythm.  Time slipped away as he worked, and it seemed like no time at all until there was no more wood in front of him to chop.
As soon as he straightened though, Eryk realized that quite some time had passed.  His back was stiff and sore, and his hands were blistered from gripping the axe for so long.  He let out a groan, and dropped the axe to the ground.
“That is no way to treat a weapon,” scolded Byron.  “If you don’t take care of it, how is it supposed to take care of you?”
“It’s an axe, Byron, and it belongs here at the wood pile.  When is it ever going to be taking care of me?”
“You never know, your Majesty.  And if you’re going to be like that, I won’t give you any of this salve for your blisters,” Byron chided, tossing a small jar into the air and catching it.
While Eryk sat and rubbed the salve gently onto his blisters, wondering if Byron hated him for some reason, Byron sat down next to him.  The captain had spent his evening going through his conversation with Aislynn, and he knew that despite what it would cost him, he didn’t hate Eryk.  Envy him, certainly, but not hate.
“Feeling better now?” Byron asked.
Eryk thought about that for a moment, and then nodded.  He did feel better, less frustrated and distracted, but still nothing had been resolved.  He sighed.
“I should be going,” Eryk said.  “There is still so much to do, and the funeral is the day after tomorrow.”
Byron nodded, and remained seated there as Eryk rose and left.  Tomorrow, he thought, back to the sword.
While Eryk made his way back to his room, he made a mental list of everything that needed to be done in the next two days.  He had a council meeting tomorrow, which would be the first since banishing Alexius and removing Branden from his position as chief advisor.  He’d have to deal with the council regarding his choice of Aislynn for Branden’s position, but he wasn’t too worried about it.  He was also still waiting for an answer from Madelia’s queen, and he hoped that it would arrive soon.  The two capital cities were not too far away from each other, so it was possible that he could get his answer as early as sometime today.  That would at least solve his problem with the Madelian emissaries, one way or the other.  Finally, he had to figure out who the traitor was and deal with him.  
Well, he thought to himself, if the council meeting is already scheduled for tomorrow, and I’m still waiting for a message from Madelia, I guess I might as well take Branden up on his offer and get some time out of the castle.  It may be the last time for a little while, regardless of what Aislynn thought.  He detoured to Branden’s rooms to see if it would be possible, as far as the healers were concerned.
Branden, he was happy to see, looked like his old self again.  He was up and out of bed, dressed for the day, and he greeted Eryk with a huge grin.
“Still feeling up to a trip out of the castle today?” Eryk asked him.
“Definitely!” Branden replied.  “I’ve seen so much of this suite that I’m seriously thinking about redecorating in here.”
“Sounds like a plan then.  I have a few things to do, but nothing that will take terribly long.  I’ll meet you in the courtyard in about an hour, okay?  We’ll take the pack out.”  
The two parted ways for a time, and Eryk went about his final duty for the morning – one more try at the Madelian emissaries.
Eryk headed downstairs after sending one of his now ever-present guards to get the Madelians.  He passed briefly through the dining hall to grab something to eat and noticed that the room was empty of everyone except for Jackob.
“You’re running a little late this morning,” Jackob said, answering Eryk’s puzzled glance around the room.  “Everyone ate already.”
“Oh,” Eryk said, unconcerned.  He was beginning to worry less and less about what others thought of what he did, at least when it was a minor thing, like eating breakfast on time.  “I’m heading to the throne room, if you’d like to accompany me.”
“Another try for answers?” Jackob asked, rising from his seat to walk with Eryk.
“I have to try, even though I know I won’t get any farther than I have already.”
The guards escorted the two emissaries into the throne room shortly after Eryk and Jackob had settled themselves.  The cowering the two had demonstrated the first day was gone, for they realized that Eryk’s hands were tied and he was essentially unable to do anything to get the answers he craved.
“You summoned us, your Majesty?” Kardon asked.
“I am giving you both one last chance to expose who you are working with.  I expect a message from your queen today, and I doubt that she will be lenient.  With luck, you’ll both be hanging by sundown, so if you want to save yourselves, now would be a good time to start talking.”
“We already told you everything we can, your Majesty.  We are not able to provide you with the information you want.”  Kardon bowed slightly at the waist as he finished his statement, polite as usual.
“I don’t understand who could be so worth protecting,” Eryk said, exasperated.  “Your lives are literally at stake here.  Why won’t you just give me the name?”
“Because,” answered Sookra, “the man whose name you want will not hesitate to do what you cannot.  He is more powerful than you, your Majesty.”
This came as a revelation.  The emissaries wouldn’t provide the name of the man because they were afraid of him.  Since it was obvious that he would get no further information from these two, regardless of what he said, Eryk had the two men sent back to their suite.
“What now?” asked Jackob.
“Now, I go hunting,” Eryk replied.  “I have no leverage until I get that message from Madelia, and I told Branden that we could get out for a little while.  Would you like to come with us?”
“No, but thank you for the invitation.  I think I will find something else to occupy my time,” Jackob answered with a smile.  “Enjoy yourselves.”
Eryk resolved to do just that as he made his way to the courtyard to get the pack ready for a hunt.  He stopped by the kitchen for some food, and warned them that there could be game coming in that afternoon.  With luck, this hunt would be more successful than the one going on in the court.



Chapter 27

When Aislynn awoke, she found herself alone in her room.  Even Cheta was gone, which was unusual, regardless of the circumstances.  Where could she have gone? Aislynn wondered to herself.  She got her answer immediately, in the form of yips and growls that suddenly came from the next room.  It sounded like Cheta was playing, which meant that Davin must be here.
Aislynn sat up very slowly, seeing how far she could push herself.  The wound across her chest pulled uncomfortably, but it wasn’t too painful, and she eventually made it into a seated position.  She smiled, celebrating this small victory, and decided to try and actually get out of bed.  She was thankful that Marja wasn’t in the room, or she’d be tying her down, and Aislynn was very tired of being in bed!  
She swung her legs over the side, discovering that her abdominal muscles hadn’t been too damaged by the attack, which was excellent news.  She rested for a moment, and then pulled herself up using the post of the bed.
Success!  She was standing, and was quite proud of herself.  It was only three days since the attack, so the healers in the kingdom were approaching miracle workers considering the injuries that she had sustained.  A few slow, painful steps to the door, and she leaned against the doorframe, watching the action in the next room.
Davin was on his knees in the middle of the floor, playing tug-of-war with Cheta, using what looked like a towel.  Cheta wasn’t the only one growling though, because Davin was growling right back, before collapsing into giggles on the floor.  Aislynn smiled, watching the two of them play, remembering the games she used to play with Cheta when she was younger.
Marja noticed Aislynn first, and as Aislynn had expected, she rushed right over to make a fuss over her. 
“What are you doing out of bed?  You shouldn’t be out of bed yet!”
“Oh Marja, relax.  I’m not planning on going anywhere other than the couch.  In fact, I’d really appreciate it if you could help me over there.”
Marja did as Aislynn asked, and she was soon settled and reasonably comfortable.  Cheta, finished with her game, lay down beside the couch, and Davin sat down on the floor next to the wolf, running a hand absently through her thick fur.  There was no healer in the room, so Aislynn concluded that they must have determined that she was healthy enough to be by herself.
“How are you feeling?” Davin asked.  “You don’t look so good.”
Aislynn smiled.  “I’m feeling a lot better than I did, but I think it will still be a while yet before I feel totally back to normal.”
“Do you know what happened while you were sleeping?” he asked, his tone very excited.
“No,” she replied, with a shake of her head, “I don’t know what happened.”
“The king came to talk to me, and he said that I might be extra special.  He said that because Cheta likes me, and Daki too, I might have a special power.  Your father is going to send for some people to talk to me, and I might get to go to your home!”
“Do you think you would like it in Evendell?  It’s far away, and you would be away from your mother and your uncle and everyone else here.”
His face became very serious as he considered that.
“I think that it would be interesting to see another city,” he said, “and I would like to learn new things.  And honestly, I don’t think that there’s anyone here who would miss me all that much.  I seem to be in the way most of the time.”
“Really?  Why do you say that?” 
“Uncle used to spend time teaching me things, like how the government works and tactics for battles and stuff.  It was a lot of fun.  But he’s been really busy these past few days, off doing stuff all the time, and he doesn’t have time for me like he used to.  I heard him tell my mother that it was important that he get ready for when he is king.”
“Excuse me?  He said what?” 
“He said that he had to get ready to be king.”
As what Davin had said sank in, the pieces began to fall into place.  Davin was Eryk’s heir, so he would be crowned King of Bacovia if Eryk died, and since he was underage, a reagent would be appointed to rule in his stead.  Durham must be planning to get that position, ruling until his nephew came of age.
“Marja, could you please get my knives from the other room?”  If Durham was behind the assassination attempts, then he knew what she was, and she was not going to sit here and be picked off without a fight.



Chapter 28

“It’s all so damned frustrating!” Eryk complained to Branden.  “They are afraid of him, afraid that he’ll kill them if they tell me who he is.”
“Well, try to figure out who has the most to gain from your death, and you’ll likely be on the right track.”
The two men were riding through the forest, following the hunting pack.  Neither of them had seen anything worth sending the dogs after, so they just rode along, enjoying the day.  Branden may not be his chief advisor any longer, but he was still good to talk to.
“Well we know that you have nothing to gain,” Eryk joked.  “King Jackob says that the guild that was hired is very expensive, so it has to be someone with a significant amount of money.”
Together the two men went through the various members of the court, cross-referencing those with money with those who had something to gain from the death of the current monarch.  Finally, they realized that the only person who would gain from his death was Davin, so only those with ties to the boy needed consideration.  That led to Durham.
“Not to scare you or anything, but we’re here and he’s back at the castle.  And so is your assassin, who is currently recovering from the wounds she received last time he had someone try to kill her…” 
Eryk reined his horse in, staring at Branden with a horrified look on his face.  “We have to get back there, right now.  She has her guards, but what if he brings friends, like last time?”  He pulled his stallion around back the way they had come, and spurred him on.
Branden pulled his horse around too, kicking him straight into a gallop in an effort to catch up to Eryk.  
“Wait!” he called.  “You can’t just rush in there!  Remember what happened last time?  We don’t even know if she’s in any danger.”
Eryk didn’t slow, but he did call back to Branden.  “I can’t take that chance.  We’ll just have to get Byron first!”


Cheta growled, that low rumbling sound that she used to issue warnings.  Aislynn tensed, gesturing to Davin to be quiet, and the child immediately stopped talking in mid-sentence.  She could hear a scuffle in the hall, and a muffled grunt.  An instant later, the door banged open.
“Oh.  I see that you are regaining your strength.  How…unfortunate.”  Durham stood there, flanked by a couple of armed men, surveying the room.  “This would have been much easier if you were still unconscious.”
“You brought company, I see.  Afraid to get your hands dirty?” Aislynn asked, with a sneer.
“Never, my dear, but why bother when I can pay others to do it for me?”
“Well it looks like your standards are slipping, my Lord.  Running out of money?  Where did you find these ruffians?”
Durham laughed, a very chilling sound.  “Sometimes quantity is worth more than quality.”  
He looked over at Davin.  “Come here, child.”
Davin looked from Durham to Aislynn, and shook his head.  Durham’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and Davin took a step backwards in response to that glare.  Cheta growled, hackles rising, making the two ruffians flanking Durham exchange worried glances.  
“Davin is under my protection,” Aislynn informed Durham.  “He isn’t your concern any longer.”
“Oh really?  And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“Eryk does not currently have a child of his own, and Davin is his heir, as you well know.  Eryk is choosing to foster his heir in a foreign court, to learn skills that he would not be able to learn here.  The king has every right to train his heir in this manner, regardless of your opinion of the matter.  You’re just his uncle, after all.”
Just as Durham was about to say something, Cheta barked.  A yip from the corridor answered her, and Aislynn smiled.
“Looks like your time’s up,” she said as the sounds of metal striking metal began to come from the hall outside.
Durham signaled his goons to attack.  “Kill her and get the boy,” he commanded, drawing his own sword.
Aislynn certainly wasn’t able to stand and fight as she would have done just a few days before, but that didn’t mean she was helpless.  Cheta charged at one of the men who were advancing toward her, while Aislynn hurled one of her knives at the other.  Her aim was impeccable, taking the thug in the eye.  He dropped immediately to the ground as the knife penetrated his brain, killing him instantly.  Cheta, meanwhile, was just as successful with her target, hamstringing him and then tearing out his throat when he dropped to the ground in pain from her attack.
Durham, unconcerned by the deaths of his hirelings, continued to advance toward Aislynn.  She had one knife left, and cocked her arm back to throw it, but found that she couldn’t.  Durham came closer, one step at a time, and she was unable to strike at him, regardless of how hard she tried.  
Suddenly, Cheta came barreling into him from the side, knocking him off balance.  He dropped his sword, trying not to fall, and finding himself now unarmed, with a very hostile wolf standing beside his weapon, Durham decided that it would be in his best interest to leave instead of pressing his luck.  He backed away quickly, reaching the door, and then he turned and fled down the hall.
A few minutes later, the sounds of combat in the hall subsided, and Jackob entered the suite.  Mateo followed along behind him, helping a wounded Marcus hobble into the room.
“I came by to pay you a visit,” Jackob explained, “and I saw the twins here having a bit of trouble with some rather shady looking gentlemen.  What happened?”
Aislynn recounted what had occurred in her rooms, including the realization that she had come to earlier.
“So Durham is the one behind the assassins,” said Jackob.  “He doesn’t strike me as the sort to settle for regency though.”
“I think that there’s more going on here than we realize,” said Aislynn.  “I wasn’t able to attack him.”
“Well that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Marcus stated.  “You are still recovering from the last attack, for goodness sake.”
“No,” Aislynn explained.  “I was prepared to attack him, had my knife ready to throw, and I couldn’t.  I could not throw that dagger.”  She looked pointedly at her father.
Jackob looked back at her, realization dawning.  “He’s a member of the royal family,” he said quietly.  Aislynn nodded. 
“He must be.  It’s the only reason I wouldn’t be able to strike at him.”



Chapter 29

“Well that certainly didn’t go as planned,” Durham muttered to himself while he ran through the castle halls.  He knew that he had very little time to get away from here, especially now that Aislynn knew that he was behind the assassination attempts.  He’d apparently lost Davin, his “legitimate” claim to the throne, so he had to get himself back to Madelia as quickly as possible if he wanted to try again.  He only needed to get rid of Eryk, and then the throne would be his, just as it should have been his father’s, and his grandfather’s.
He pounded into his room, practically slamming the door behind him, startling Cora up off the couch where she was working on her needlepoint during her time off from watching Davin.  
“What happened?” she asked, immediately picking up on his distress.
“We have to leave now,” he stated, continuing past her into his bedroom to pick up the bags that he had prepared earlier that day.  He had always known that there was a possibility of failure, and had planned accordingly before setting out.  
“What about Davin?” Cora asked, concern evident in her voice.  Regardless of whatever faults she had, she did love her son.
“We’ve lost him, my sister.  They are claiming him as Eryk’s heir and plan to send him away for fostering.  Likely to Evendell, where we cannot easily follow.”
“But that’s good, isn’t it?  Wasn’t the plan always for Davin to assume the throne as heir?”
Durham turned to face his sister, a look of exasperation on his face.  Sometimes she could be a little slow picking up the nuances of his plans.  “Yes, but the plan was for Davin to assume the throne NOW, not a decade from now when he’s actually old enough to rule by himself.  I had to be appointed regent, and then when everyone was accustomed to my rule, I could reveal our true heritage as the rightful rulers of Bacovia.”
“I still don’t understand why you feel that you need to reveal anything,” Cora complained, putting the few things she needed into her bag.  “We were fortunate that Grandfather managed to convince anyone with the proper connections to marry him, given the fact that he was a bastard.”
“Do not say that!” Durham screamed, advancing dangerously toward his sister.  “He was the legitimate heir to Bacovia’s throne, the oldest son of the king.  His mother was of a noble line, so the fact that the king married another should not matter!”  This subject had always been a sticky one for Durham, who hated anything or anyone that tried to belittle his noble bloodline.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.  Cora looked startled, and Durham wondered how the guards had gotten organized so quickly.  He then realized that the guard would not be knocking, and he went to answer the door.  There, waiting impatiently, was a man dressed in Madelian livery.  
“My Lord,” the man said.  “I have a message for you from the queen.  I was directed to bring this missive to you before bringing this other one to the king.”  He held up another envelope.  Durham thanked the man, who left to find Eryk and deliver the other message.
“What is it?” Cora asked.
“How should I know?  I haven’t even opened it yet,” he snapped in response.
Durham carefully broke the winged serpent seal of Madelia’s royal family, and unfolded the letter.  It was penned in the queen’s tight, slanted script, so she had written it herself instead of having it scribed.  Interesting.

My dear Lord Durham,
It seems that our emissaries have gotten themselves into trouble with Bacovia’s king.  That was very poor planning on their part.  I have penned a separate letter to the king, giving him permission to execute those men for their poor judgment.  In reality, I would prefer not to lose them, so I am charging you with their safety.  Make sure Kardon and Sookra accompany you back to Madelia, or it would be in your best interest not to return at all.

Durham refolded the letter and then lit a candle.  Holding the parchment in the flame, he waited for it to catch and begin to burn before he tossed it into the fireplace.  He certainly couldn’t afford for anyone to find that.  
“What did it say?” Cora dared to ask, knowing from the look on her brother’s face that it was not good news.
“It said that we are to have company when we return home,” he answered.  “It will take me a little while to get them ready, so why don’t you go on ahead to our country house and I will meet you there as soon as I can.”  There was no reason to keep her here, he figured.  He’d be able to get away with the emissaries faster without her, and he could pick her up before heading for the border.  Or, if things got messy, he could just leave her behind.
Durham escorted Cora to the stables, walking with her quickly through the corridors, trying to avoid notice.  He knew that pursuit would be coming any time now, and he was actually surprised that the alarm had not been raised yet.  He instructed a groom to prepare his sister’s horse, and then left her to find her own way out of the city.  Their estate was not far, and she would be fine to travel there alone.
Durham headed back into the castle, staying to the lesser used passages and hallways generally reserved for the servants.  He knew where Kardon and Sookra had their rooms, of course, and he knew that they were currently under guard.  Whenever he’d had occasion to check, there were always two guards on duty outside of the door.  He sighed, bemoaning the fact that he had no hired ruffians left to take care of this for him.  He’d have to get his own hands dirty this time.
“Good afternoon, my Lord,” one of the guards greeted him as he approached the door.  “How may we help you?”
You could just leave and make this easy, he thought to himself.  “I have business with the Madelian emissaries,” he replied instead.
The guard shook his head.  “I’m afraid nobody is allowed into the room, my Lord, on the king’s orders.  You’ll have to have permission from him before we can allow you to pass.”
“Well then, I guess you leave me no choice,” Durham replied, drawing his sword and dagger.  He’d better make this quick, since he could hear some commotion starting deeper inside the castle.
Durham feinted with his sword toward one of the guards, but instead of actually following through, he pivoted on his right foot and kicked out with his left boot, connecting with the guard’s knee in a low roundhouse kick.  He heard a loud crunching sound, and the guard screamed in agony, his kneecap crushed.  Knowing that the screaming would certainly attract attention, Durham stepped past the man as he dropped to the ground, and engaged the other guard.  He also knew that Kardon and Sookra would hear the commotion, so he yelled at them through the door.
“You had better get ready to leave, gentlemen,” he informed them.  “We will all be getting out of here momentarily.”
The second guard was considerably more wary of Durham after seeing what had just happened to his partner, and he circled cautiously.  Durham didn’t have time to play games with this man, and he advanced quickly and recklessly, aiming a sword cut at the man’s head as he thrust his dagger toward his chest.  The guard parried both attacks at once, angling his sword so that the tip of it blocked Durham’s sword, while blocking the dagger just above the crosspiece.  
Having the man’s attention fully on the upper part of his body, Durham stepped close and pulled his knee up quickly, catching the man in the groin.  With a grunt of pain, the guard doubled over, and Durham drew his dagger across the man’s throat, silencing him.  He then turned and put his sword through the first guard’s heart, putting an end to his thrashing and noise.
With a sigh for his bloodied clothing, Durham threw open the door, catching Kardon and Sookra by surprise.  He was happy to notice that they were each carrying a bag of hastily bundled clothing and belongings.
“Time to leave,” he said, wasting no time on pleasantries.  “The guards are on their way, and we all have death warrants hanging over our heads, so we should go very quickly.”
They could hear a lot of noise deeper inside the castle now.  It was obvious to Durham that the guards were starting their manhunt, and it wouldn’t take them long to find him if he just stood here.  The diplomatic suite was on the second floor, in between the wing where Eryk had his apartments and the wing where Aislynn had hers.  They had easy access to the stairs, but going that way would be sure to get them caught.  Instead, Durham led his companions away from the stairs, moving deeper into the castle and heading for the royal wing.
“What are you doing?  Are you mad?” Kardon demanded.  “The stairs are that way!”
“I am fully aware of the location of the stairs, thank you,” Durham answered calmly.  “Don’t you think that the guards will be in their vicinity?  Those stairs lead directly into the entranceway of the castle, so they will be guarded to prevent our escape.  We need to go this way.”  
There were a number of different staircases in the castle, some used solely by the servants.  It was toward one of these staircases that Durham was heading.  He just hoped that the guards hadn’t already blocked them all off.
They reached their destination without trouble, but there was noise building behind them now, and getting closer with each passing instant.  The search was on in full, and it sounded as if the dead guards had been discovered as well.  The three men picked up the pace, practically jogging down the stairs, coming out just beside the library.  Durham turned into the room, rushing past a few startled servants and heading for the gardens outside.  If they could make it to the garden, Durham knew that the way should be clear to the back wall of the castle, where they should be able to escape out into the fields beyond.
They had fled the library, and were running out into the gardens, when a voice called to them from the wall.
“Halt!  Stop where you are or I will shoot.”
Durham swore under his breath, seeing archers on the wall.  He’d really hoped to avoid getting shot at today.  He glanced around the garden, which was overgrown and obviously not well cared for, but there wasn’t any real cover between where he stood and where he wanted to be.
Durham knew that he was a dead man, regardless of whether he stopped or not.  Literally having nothing to lose, he took off at a run across the gardens while the Madelian emissaries stood watching with disbelief written across their faces.
True to his word, the guard opened fire, sending an arrow streaking toward Durham.  The first shot was just a warning, slamming into the ground about a foot in front of him.  Durham, ignoring the warning, just dodged to the left and kept on running, heading for the wall he could see ahead of him.  
The guard fired again, this time leading his shot to hit Durham instead of the ground in front of him.  Another guard, a few paces away on the wall, also opened fire.  Durham had no chance of dodging both arrows, but he tried anyway.  One skimmed past, tugging at the cloth of his shirt, but the other hit him in the leg, breaking his stride.  As he stumbled, trying to regain his balance, another arrow struck him in the back, the force of the hit knocking him to the ground.  
Desperate to get away, Durham began to crawl toward the wall, now lost to view behind the plants growing in front of him.  He knew that it was there though, and he was determined not to give up.  His father hadn’t given up his dream of the throne of Bacovia, and neither had his grandfather.  Durham was going to make that dream come true, or die trying.  
Kardon and Sookra, now caught by the guards at the library door, stood watching as their would-be rescuer was shot with arrow after arrow until he finally lay still.



Chapter 30

When Eryk and Branden had reached the castle after their mad dash through the city, Branden had run up to Aislynn’s room to check on her, while Eryk had gone to the barracks looking for Byron.  On his way there, he had run across Jackob, who was also going to find Byron, having just left Aislynn’s room himself.  Eryk was thrilled to learn that Aislynn and Davin were both fine, and he had the guard mobilized to hunt Durham down, determined to deal with him once and for all.  It was a busy afternoon, and by the time the Madelian emissaries were back in custody, and Durham’s body had been dealt with appropriately, it was approaching sundown.
Later that evening, when the excitement had settled, everyone gathered in Aislynn’s room to discuss the events of the day.  They picked this location as a courtesy to Aislynn, who was exhausted by Durham’s attack and was spending her evening relaxing on the couch to try to regain some of her lost strength.
“Well, with Durham gone, that will likely be the end of the assassination attempts,” said Jackob.  “Considering the number of guild members they lost trying to kill you Eryk, there is no way they will continue the contract without him, and it’s possible they would not have even if he had survived.”
“That will be a relief,” Eryk said earnestly.  He’d be thankful for a little less worry and a little more time to train.  Aislynn nodded in agreement, grateful for some time to recover herself.
“If he was a member of the royal family somehow, we need to trace that back.  What about Cora?  Will she cause a problem too?” Branden asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Aislynn.  “She seemed more controlled by her brother than an independent thinker.  Someone could potentially use her as a figurehead, I suppose, but I’m not sure who would want to.  She’s gone anyway.  The rooms she shared with Durham are empty.”
“Don’t forget about Madelia.  They are involved with all of this mess too, obviously.  I have those two ‘gentlemen’ in chains for now, but what if they had the sanction of their queen?”  Byron was pacing, seeming to have nervous energy to work off.
“I have a message here from Queen Vivien,” Eryk said, holding up the missive he had received from the Madelian courier earlier.  “She says that she does not condone or support her emissaries, and gives us her permission to execute them, which I will do at dawn.  She feels that they must have had something to do with the attack on Aislynn, since all of their guards were involved.  I don’t think she is directly involved in this though.”
“So it sounds like everything is taken care of then, except for tracing Durham’s lineage.  I’ll pass a message along to the secretary and see what he can come up with tonight.”  Branden stretched, feeling content and happy to be a part of the group again, even if his role was now a minor one.
“Well you won’t need to worry about your heir,” Jackob stated confidently.  “We will take good care of him in Evendell, and I’m sure he’ll be too busy to miss anyone.”  He looked over at the boy, who was curled up asleep on the floor, using Cheta as a pillow.
With the excitement of the day now coming to a close, the group started to break up.  First Branden left, off to give the message to the secretary, who would likely have a very long night ahead of him.  Byron, who was planning to check on the Madelians and double their guard, just in case, followed him soon after.  Jackob was next to leave, picking Davin up tenderly and carrying him away.  With his family now grown and essentially gone, the king of Evendell had officially extended his protection to the boy, which was only proper considering he would be in charge of the boy’s fostering.  That left Eryk and Aislynn alone.
Eryk helped Aislynn up from the couch, and he offered his support while she walked slowly into the next room.  I’m lucky that I’m right-handed, she thought to herself, or I would have opened the wound in my shoulder again.  Regardless, she was tired and sore.  
Once she was sitting on the edge of her bed, Eryk sat down in the nearby chair for a few moments.
“We have a busy day tomorrow,” he said.  “The council will be more than a little anxious about the fact that I’ve named a woman to the position of chief advisor, and they’ll be even more nervous about the fact that I’m going to the funeral without a fiancée.”
“Well, you know as well as I do that I don’t particularly care what your council thinks,” Aislynn said with a smile.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll whip them into shape.”
Eryk smiled back, certain that she was right.  She had such a forceful personality that he was positive that she could make anyone do what she wanted, given enough time.  He leaned toward her, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
“Get some rest.  I’ll have breakfast sent up, and then I’ll come and get you for the council meeting.  Now that you’re mobile, even if you do move at a snail’s pace, you might as well take back your duties from your father.”
Eryk left Aislynn in the care of Marja and Cheta, and retired for the night, very curious to see what the next day would bring.



Chapter 31

Dawn found Eryk and Byron together again, but it wasn’t for any sort of sparring practice today.  As Eryk had promised the night before, the two Madelian emissaries were due to hang at sunrise.  The council had gathered, less Aislynn, but Jackob was there in her stead.  This would be his last act as chief advisor to the king of Bacovia.
Kardon and Sookra were led out of the castle, still in chains, and brought to the courtyard and the gallows that had been erected there during the night.  They had tried pleading for their lives last night when Eryk had presented them with their sentence, but they were too late.  Eryk had given them their last chance yesterday morning, and they had remained silent, so now they would pay the price for harboring a traitor to the throne.
There was no talking and very little movement among the group the men who were there to stand witness to the execution.  The only sounds that broke the silence were the quiet rattle of the chains and the creak of the wooden steps as Kardon and Sookra took their places.  The executioner placed the nooses around their necks, and then he took his place.
“Kardon and Sookra, diplomatic emissaries of the kingdom of Madelia, you are charged with being an accessory to the attempted murder of a member of the royal family of Evendell and harboring a traitor to the throne of Bacovia.  Both of these acts are acts of war, designed to weaken the Bacovian throne, and it is for these acts that you are sentenced to hang until dead.  It is with the consent of your queen that we carry out your sentence.”  
Eryk gave a nod to the executioner, who pulled the lever located at the end of the platform, dropping the floor out from beneath the two men.  The two fell out of sight, and the council stood there until the ropes stopped moving.
Eryk felt a certain amount of satisfaction that the emissaries were dead.  They had helped to cause a lot of trouble, trouble that he could certainly have done without.  Their actions had literally changed his life, plunging him prematurely into his reign as king.  Honestly, the only good thing they had done for him was bring him Aislynn.  
On the other hand, he had just been directly responsible for the deaths of two men.  While they were certainly far from innocent, did being king honestly give him the right to decide who lives and who dies?  Everyone seemed to think that it was his right, this ability to wield the power of life or death, but he didn’t think he was ready for it.  Too bad he had no choice.
The council dispersed for now, and Byron agreed to take care of the bodies.  He would send them back to Madelia for a proper burial, accompanied by a full squad of guards.  They would be leaving later today, so Byron had a lot of work to do to get everyone ready for the journey.  
Eryk made his way back inside, wondering what he should do with himself.  He’d never been up this early without a very specific reason, and he wasn’t used to finding himself at loose ends.  Branden would still be asleep, and so would Aislynn.  He sighed and decided to head to his study.  
For the past nine days, the day-to-day governing of the kingdom had basically been on hold, and everything would start up again after the funeral concluded tomorrow.  He figured he might as well get an idea of what was pending.  First, he visited the kitchen to get a snack to tide him over until breakfast, and to arrange for Aislynn’s breakfast to be delivered to her room in a few hours.
The stack of paperwork was as daunting as Eryk had been afraid that it would be.  He decided to get started by sorting everything into piles based on what needed doing: one pile for things associated with money, another for guards and military, and a third for agriculture and resources.  Eryk had six piles when he was finished sorting, and he was just sifting through the pile that he had flagged as important for the whole council to consider when his secretary walked into the room.
“Oh!” he said, startled.  “Good morning, your Majesty.  I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here this early in the morning, or I would have knocked at the door.  I have the report you requested, Sire.”  The man looked very tired, and Eryk suspected that he likely hadn’t slept at all last night.  Eryk thanked him for the report and sent him to get some rest before the council meeting.  Eryk glanced briefly at the papers, his eyes widening.  Well isn’t this interesting, he thought to himself.


When Aislynn woke that morning, the wonderful smell of her breakfast greeted her.  She rolled over carefully and saw the tray sitting on the bedside table, so she sat up and decided to investigate what was under the lid.  She was thrilled to find ham, eggs, cheese, and bread with butter, all things she enjoyed, and she dug in with a healthy appetite.
As she finished, Marja came into the room and went to the wardrobe to find Aislynn a dress to wear for her first official day as the king’s chief advisor.  She wanted Aislynn to look presentable, but she also needed something that would be easy enough for the princess to get into considering her bandages and diminished range of motion.  Marja ended up with turquoise dress that laced up the back, which would allow her to keep the bodice loose enough that Aislynn would be comfortable.
“Would you like to bathe before you get dressed this morning?” she asked, and Aislynn nodded eagerly.  That meant replacing the bandages and having to see what she looked like under them, but that would be a small price to pay for feeling clean.
The hot bath felt wonderful, and after she was clean and dressed, Marja helped her over to the couch to rest a little before Eryk arrived.  Now that she was full and relaxed, and she knew that she was healing well, Aislynn found it hard to stay awake, and she dozed a little until she heard a knock at the door.  Cheta’s ears perked up, and Aislynn greeted her king with a smile as he entered the room.
“Good morning, my dear,” Eryk greeted her, with his standard kiss on the forehead.  “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Not too bad, surprisingly.  The healer said that I could start stretching and exercising again in about a week, which is great news as far as I’m concerned.  In the meantime, I’m allowed out and about as long as I’m careful, rest a lot and make sure that I have someone nearby to help me in case I need it.”  Aislynn smiled, very excited to have permission to get out of bed and out of her room.
“Well then, are you ready for your first council meeting?” Eryk asked, offering her his arm.
“As ready as I’m likely to be,” she replied, standing slowly and carefully.
The two of them made their way slowly down to the council chamber, Cheta trotting along behind them.  They chatted about inconsequential things, like a couple strolling through a garden on a sunny afternoon.  The scene was intentional, prepared for the sole purpose of setting the council at ease so that they would be taken entirely by surprise by Eryk’s announcement.  He and Aislynn had decided that a surprised council would be less likely to offer any relevant objections, and could be easily overruled without Eryk having to pull rank, so to speak.  The goal was to get Aislynn set up in the position of chief advisor as painlessly as possible.
When they reached the council chamber, the council was already assembled and waiting.  Eryk led Aislynn to her chair, the one positioned to the left of Eryk’s, and she sat down carefully.  Everyone had heard about the attack on her, of course, so nobody really questioned her slow movements, or the fact that she had been seated in the first available chair she had come to.  They all assumed that Eryk was going to announce that he had chosen his bride at last, and they were not about to nitpick over her choice of seat.
“Shall we get started, gentlemen?” Eryk asked as he took his own seat at the head of the table.  It was a rhetorical question, but it brought silence to the room before he continued.
“First and foremost, I would like to formally introduce you all to Princess Aislynn of Evendell.  She is joining us in the position of my chief advisor, replacing Lord Branden.”  A few of the council members started to say something, but Eryk allowed them no time to comment, continuing immediately.
“Lord Branden showed incredibly poor judgment during his dealings with the Madelian emissaries, and I did not want to begin my reign with questions being raised concerning the validity of the advice I am receiving.  The princess is well versed in diplomatic relations, government practices and the like, and I feel that she will make an excellent addition to our council.”
Now he let them speak, and the room erupted in noise.  Almost everyone had something to say, some for and some against, but since everyone was speaking at the same time, Eryk didn’t have to answer anyone.  He exchanged a glance with Byron, who smiled, very happy with Eryk’s choice and with Aislynn’s decision to accept the invitation.  For the rest of the council, Eryk just let them talk until they had nothing more to say, and then moved on to the next order of business.
“Next, I wanted to thank you all for being present this morning for the execution of the Madelian emissaries.  It is a regretful thing to have to take the lives of others, but those men needed to be punished for their crimes.  Your support for my decision was appreciated.”  Eryk took a deep breath, still feeling a little guilty about the hangings.
“Thanks to the long hours put in by our secretary,” he continued, with a nod of appreciation to the man, “we now have some idea of Durham’s supposed claim to the throne of Bacovia.  The only unfinished branch of the family tree, according to our records, was in my great-grandfather’s generation.  
“Prior to wedding my great-grandmother, he had a relationship with a young noble lady, and that relationship produced a son.  When my great-grandfather wed another woman, that young lady, ashamed to have the king’s bastard, left the court.  After my grandfather was born, a legitimate heir to the throne, the king’s illegitimate child became unimportant, and we believe the family left the kingdom around that time.  
“As best we can determine, Durham is likely the grandson of that bastard, who would have been king instead of my grandfather had he been born in wedlock.  Assuming the regular pattern of inheritance, we figure that Durham’s father would have been next to take the throne, and then finally Durham himself.”
The room was silent for a time while the council processed the information.  
“Durham is dead, but did he leave a son of his own to carry on his dream of the Bacovian throne?” Lord Geoffrey asked.
“Not that we are aware of,” answered the secretary, “but anything is possible.  We are not even entirely certain if this explains Durham’s claim, but it is the most likely explanation.”
The council had to be content with that for now, especially since there was nobody left in Bacovia to ask except for Davin.  The boy may or may not have overheard anything useful, but Eryk resolved to ask him about it later anyway.
“In the matter of my own heir, until such time as I may have a son of my own, I am formally acknowledging my cousin Davin as heir to this throne.  It has been decided that he will be fostered in Evendell, where he will be educated and protected.”  
The council had nothing to say about that proclamation, which made sense to everyone.  The Bacovian court hadn’t been the safest place these past weeks, and it made considerable sense to send the heir to the throne away from the danger.
“Finally, in light of her Highness’ injuries, there are a few changes I would like to make to the funeral proceedings for tomorrow.”
As Eryk laid out his changes, listening to his council’s advice and accepting their recommendations where appropriate, Aislynn was impressed.  Eryk had changed a lot in the past ten days, changing from a boy who had been doing everything in his power to avoid his duties, to a man who was ready to rule a kingdom.  He was no longer the egotistical, self-centered person she had met on her first day here, and she liked what she saw.  It seemed that Byron was right – he was a changed man.
Eryk was justifiably pleased with the outcome of the council meeting when they closed the session for the day.  The council had accepted his changes with little objection, and everyone seemed to be reasonably comfortable with how Eryk was going to rule his kingdom.
“So how about a little celebration?” he asked.  “If you feel up to it, of course.”
“That sounds like fun, as long as it isn’t anything too strenuous,” Aislynn replied.  “I’ve already been out of bed more today than any other day since I got hurt.”
Eryk led Aislynn through the castle and into the library.  He then led her out a small door she hadn’t noticed before.  She was surprised to find that they emerged into a small, enclosed garden.  It was somewhat overrun with weeds, and the flowers and plants needed tending, but it was beautiful.  Aislynn looked questioningly at Eryk.
“This used to be my mother’s garden,” he explained.  “Since she died, the kitchen gardeners have kept it from becoming totally lost to the weeds, but they don’t have time to maintain it properly.  It’s quiet here, and sunny, so I thought it might be a nice getaway from the court.”  Eryk didn’t mention the fact that Durham had died here just the day before.  He figured that what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Aislynn walked around slowly, looking at the gardens, the soft grass in the shade of the trees, and the small fountain and pond set over in the back corner.  There was another door set farther along the wall, which led into Eryk’s study.  She turned back to look at Eryk.  
“It’s lovely,” she said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace here.
“It’s yours,” he replied.  
When it looked like she was going to object, he spoke up first.  “No, don’t say anything.  I know that this is officially the queen’s garden, and I know that you are not the queen and have not agreed to be.  I just wanted you to have somewhere to relax, that’s all.  If you don’t want to come here, you don’t have to, but nobody else is going to be coming here either.”
Aislynn realized that this place meant a lot to Eryk.  She could feel how important this was to him, and by sharing the garden, he was sharing a part of himself that he likely had never shared with anyone else.  She didn’t want to hurt him, and she did love the garden.  So instead of saying anything, she just sat down on a bench and gestured for him to join her.  They sat together in silence for a while, just enjoying the sunshine, with Cheta sprawled out on the grass at their feet.
A lot had happened in a very short amount of time, Aislynn realized.  She had received a lot of different advice from a number of people, and she’d mulled it all over.  She had come to realize that while the sort of relationship Eryk wanted just didn’t seem possible, she did care for him.
She shifted on the bench, turning her body to face Eryk as best she could.  Reaching up, Aislynn ran her left hand through his thick black hair.  Startled, he turned to look at her and she twined her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and pulled his face down to hers.  Eryk’s eyes widened when he realized what she was about to do, but he didn’t resist in the slightest as she brought him closer.
“Thank you,” she murmured, lips moving against his.  Then she kissed him, long and deep.



Chapter 32

The next morning found Aislynn once again in the courtyard of the guards’ barracks.  By the time she arrived, considering she was still moving more slowly and cautiously than usual, Eryk was already hard at work.  She stood leaning against the wall for a time, catching her breath and just watching.  He was struggling with the exercise, another round of parrying Byron’s attacks with the heavy practice sword, but he was trying.  Byron noticed her first, and called for a short rest.
“How could you possibly need a rest already?” Eryk asked.  “You’re not even breathing heavily.”
Byron just smiled, and nodded his head in Aislynn’s direction.
“We have an audience this morning, and I thought that you may want to say hello.”  
Eryk turned, looking in the direction Byron had indicated, and his face broke into a huge smile when he saw Aislynn standing there.  As if the look on his face wasn’t enough to convince her of his feelings, Eryk’s emotions came to her more clearly with every step she took as she made her way over to where the men were standing.  She sat down on a nearby bench, to be welcomed back enthusiastically by Byron.
“So when do you think you’ll be back here yourself?” Byron asked Aislynn.  He missed exercising with her more than he had thought he would.  Eryk wasn’t much of an opponent, and he’d been able to defeat any of his own men for years now.  Of course, he missed talking with Aislynn too.
“The healers told me to give it another week before I start to do anything too active,” she replied, disappointment evident in her voice.  “I’m going a little stir crazy and I’ll be so out of practice that you’ll have to go easy on me.”
Byron laughed, promising to be nice for the first day or so, and then he summoned Eryk back to task.  With a sigh, the king took his position again, while Aislynn settled more comfortably to watch.
Eryk grunted a little in pain as his sword connected with Byron’s, jarring the half-healed blisters on his hands.  He was absurdly grateful that they had not had time to practice the previous day when the blisters had still been so fresh.  At least now some of them had popped and he was well on his way to building up calluses on his hands.  Today should certainly help that process along.
He was glad that his only task was to block Byron’s attacks.  He felt very self-conscious with Aislynn watching him, and he knew that if he was expected to attack as well as defend, he’d have been down on the ground by now.  He doubted that he would ever find that easy familiarity with weapons that Aislynn and Byron shared.
Byron, on the other hand, was actually quite pleased with Eryk’s progress.  It was likely imperceptible to Eryk, but Byron was able to speed up his attacks today, each strike coming a little faster than he had been able to do previously, and Eryk was holding his own.  He would never be a gifted swordsman, but that wasn’t the point of this training.  Given time, Eryk would be able to defend himself against anyone for a time, including himself and Aislynn.
Aislynn, from her position as observer, was able to see holes in Eryk’s form and technique that Byron didn’t, and she spent her time calling out pointers to Byron, who would in turn use her suggestions to correct Eryk.  Sometimes, the correction came in the form of a sword strike to the exposed area, and sometimes he would stop and show Eryk what he was doing wrong and how to correct it.  Aislynn thought that between her and the captain, Eryk would likely progress at a quick pace.  That was good news, as far as she was concerned.  The sooner she could stop worrying about him quite so much, the better!
When the morning practice session ended, all three of them retired to the dining hall together.  There was little point in getting changed prior to eating, since the funeral was later today and they all needed to get ready for that.  Jackob, Davin and Branden joined them, and the six of them had a very pleasant meal, untroubled by any of the recent concerns of the court.  
The two eesprid enjoyed themselves too, vying for Davin’s attention and the tidbits he was feeding them from the table.  Seeing this, Aislynn commented that it was a good thing that Davin would be leaving with Jackob that afternoon, or otherwise Cheta was going to be fat in short order, with all the goodies she was getting from the boy.  This turned the conversation to the subject of Davin’s upcoming trip to Evendell.
“So are you excited?” Branden asked, tousling Davin’s hair fondly.  Branden was definitely back to his old self, and he seemed to bear no grudge toward Aislynn for his change in position.  He seemed content just to be Eryk’s friend again.
Davin nodded, eyes sparkling.  “King Jackob says that there are more eesprid at the castle, and that they will all want to play with me!”
Aislynn laughed.  “Just watch out for my brother’s crow,” she warned.  “He’s got a strange sense of humor and has a tendency to steal things that catch his attention.”
“So what will he be learning with you?” Eryk asked, curious.
“Well, the normal things like governing and tactics, reading, writing and mathematics.  Besides that, he’ll also learn how to sense and tap into that reserve of magical power that he is capable of reaching.  He’ll be tested, of course, but that’s just a formality at this point.  There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll be a powerful mage.”  Jackob looked at the boy with a touch of concern, and Davin met his stare confidently.  
“It will be a hard road, full of difficult lessons,” he said, directing his comment mostly to Davin.
“Don’t worry.  I’m ready,” Davin said boldly.
“I doubt that,” Jackob said with a smile, “but I’m glad that you think you are.”
Soon, the meal was over and it was time for everyone to prepare for Tarren’s funeral.  This was the last step to confirm Eryk as the true king of Bacovia.  He had already been crowned because the kingdom couldn’t be without a ruler, but after Tarren’s body was interred in the mausoleum, there would be one final ceremony where all of the nobility of the kingdom would pledge their allegiance to the new king.
Aislynn had only one truly black dress, and she had never had to wear it before today.  It was actually very unusual for someone in her line of work never to have had to attend a funeral until now.  She was very lucky.  So she bathed and slipped into her shift, preparing herself to dress in the uncomfortable, hot creation of fabric and lace, but when she looked for the dress, she was unable to find it.
“Marja?” she called.  “Have you seen my dress for today?”
“Yes,” Marja answered, closer than Aislynn had expected her to be.  “I have it right here.”  Marja walked into the room carrying a dress folded over her arm, but the dress did not look anything like the garment she was expecting.  Seeing her puzzled look, Marja smiled.
“I wasn’t certain if you would be well enough to attend the king’s funeral, but I had this made for you, just in case.  Anna used your measurements from before, and we used some of the fabric from your old dress.”  She shook the garment out, holding it up for Aislynn’s inspection.  “Do you like it?”
Aislynn had never been one to appreciate clothing and fabric, leaving that to Marja, but even she could see that this dress was a masterpiece of craftsmanship.  It was beautifully made, sewn of satin and lace, and when she put it on, it skimmed along her body perfectly.  True to the current style, the bodice was fitted and the skirt was full, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or too warm.  The sleeves were made entirely of lace, and the skirt had lace panels inset into the satin, making it considerably lighter than it would have been otherwise.  All of her newly created scars were covered, as were the bruises that were still healing and currently a ghastly shade of yellow.
“Thank you,” was all she said, but Marja knew her well enough by now to know that Aislynn was touched by the gesture and that she truly appreciated the dress.
The funeral procession through the city, from castle to cathedral, was supposed to involve the full court and castle.  Eryk, knowing that Aislynn would never have been able to walk that distance, had made the procession the first of his changes.  While the populace lined the city streets, Eryk would make the procession alone, accompanied only by a squad of guards.  The rest of the court and council would be waiting for him at the cathedral.
The morning was sunny and warm, but the clouds gathering on the horizon heralded rain for the afternoon or evening.  Eryk was glad for the nice weather right now though, and so were the citizens who waited along the roadside, respectfully quiet as he passed.  They were all dressed in mourning, filling the streets with browns and blacks.  Eryk was also dressed in black, with a black silk shirt decorated tastefully with dark gray stitching, and black pants.  Between his dark clothing and dark hair, he looked very pale, and definitely looked like someone in mourning.  Eryk had loved his father and missed him dearly, even though the last weeks of his father’s life had been fraught with arguments.
When he reached the cathedral, Eryk was glad that he had planned these last minute changes so carefully.  The stairs leading up to the cathedral doors were packed with people – members of his court, the foreign leaders who had arrived for the funeral, and his council.  He had left a pathway, and it was up this path that he walked, leaving his guards at the base of the stairs.  At the top, he met Aislynn, and with her hand on his arm, they led the court into the cathedral for the funeral proceedings.  
Eryk knew that everyone had been expecting an announcement of his choice of bride prior to the funeral, but that announcement had not come.  Yet here he was with a beautiful princess on his arm; they all had to be speculating about their relationship.  Eryk decided to let them think what they would.  He and Aislynn had reached a comfortable truce on the subject of marriage, and he was content to leave things as they were for the time being.  He’d convince her eventually, he knew, as long as he was patient.
The cathedral servants had been busy decorating for the funeral.  There were flowers everywhere, in vases flanking the bier where his father’s body lay, single flowers at the pews and in garlands strung here and there.  The smell of the flowers was nearly overwhelming, but they still couldn’t entirely mask the scent of death in the air.  After this long in the warm weather, even the healers’ preservation magic was starting to weaken.  Once the church was packed, every seat taken, Father Jonas started the ceremony.
The ceremony was a long one, with the attendees sitting, standing and kneeling at intervals.  This was hard for Aislynn, and Eryk helped her as best he could.  Unfortunately, he couldn’t do anything to alter this part of the ceremony.  This was the same ceremony used to say goodbye to Bacovia’s kings and nobility for generations.  
Finally, all of the songs were sung, the eulogies were read, and the honor guard entered the church.  They walked up the aisle, steps in perfect time with each other, each man taking his position at a corner of the bier.  In unison, they lifted Tarren’s body, and they slowly bore him out of the church and toward the mausoleum.  Eryk and Aislynn followed, followed in turn by the rest of council.  While this small final interment ceremony was conducted, the nobility would arrange themselves in order of rank, preparing for the ceremony of fealty.
The mausoleum was built of marble, and faced the cathedral across the small square at the top of the stairs.  Generations of Eryk’s family were interred here, and now his father would finally be laid to rest next to his mother, just as Tarren had longed for since his wife had died.  Nobody entered the building except for the guards, and Father Jonas finished his proclamations just outside of the door.
Now it was time for the last ceremony of the day and of the whole coronation process.  Eryk had made changes to this one as well, having it held in the cathedral instead of back at the castle following another procession through the city.  He had also arranged for two chairs, one for himself and one for Aislynn, as she would stay with him throughout the ceremony.
The two of them led the way back to the cathedral, but Aislynn stopped at the head of the aisle while Eryk proceeded to his chair alone.  Once he was sitting, Aislynn walked alone up the aisle and knelt before her king.  There, before the court and council, she pledged her service to him as his chief advisor.  He helped her to rise, and they took their seats, hers to the left and slightly behind his.  Together, they accepted the fealty of the council first, all of them vowing to serve their king to the best of their abilities.  Next came the foreign rulers or their representatives, including her father.  They pledged to keep the established treaties, as least until such a time as they were renegotiated.  Finally, the members of the court presented themselves before Eryk, and Aislynn by association, promising to remain loyal.  Eryk had set this up very specifically, having Aislynn there with him to receive the vows of fealty.  When she was one day queen of Bacovia, their pledges of fealty would apply to her too, and this way, she had already received them. 
The ceremony was over at last about mid-afternoon, and it was a tired Eryk and an exhausted Aislynn who finally made their way back to the castle.  Byron had been looking out for the two of them, and when they emerged from the cathedral, they found their horses waiting.
“At least we don’t have to walk back,” Aislynn commented wearily, promising herself to do something nice for Byron.  They mounted, followed by their guards, who had also had mounts provided for them, and they all went back through the city.
Upon their entry into the main courtyard of the castle, Jackob and Davin, who were just awaiting their arrival before leaving for Evendell, greeted them both.  They had Jackob’s six guards with them, and nothing else, all of Davin’s belongings managing to fit into a pair of saddlebags.
“Well, my dear daughter,” Jackob said, “it is more than time for me to return home.  You know how your mother hates to deal with the government.”
Aislynn smiled, nodding.  “Please ride carefully, and take good care of Davin.  He’s rather important.”
“For now,” Jackob agreed, eyeing the pair of them speculatively.  He expected that it likely wouldn’t be too long before Eryk got his way and they were sending out wedding announcements.
Jackob turned to Marcus and Mateo, who had accompanied Aislynn for the day.  “Are the two of you returning home with us or remaining here?  Now that Aislynn is firmly established, she doesn’t really require guards of her own.  There are many men in the castle guard capable of taking over your duties.”
Marcus shook his head.  “If it is all the same to you, Sire, we would like to remain here.  We have made friends here, and as long as our princess is still a princess of Evendell, she deserves her own guards.”  Mateo nodded his agreement, quiet as usual.
Jackob nodded his acceptance, not having expecting anything different, and then he mounted his horse.  Davin was already astride his own mount, waiting impatiently to be off.  With a wave, the group set off at a trot, hoping to stay ahead of the rain.
Aislynn and Eryk dismounted, Aislynn stumbling a little with fatigue, and a pair of grooms came to take their horses.  The two of them made their way into the castle, heading for Eryk’s study and the meal awaiting them there.  It was closer than Aislynn’s room, and she would be able to rest there before heading back upstairs to her suite.
“I think that the day was a success, your Majesty,” she said with a smile.  “How does it feel to actually be king?”
“Honestly, not a lot different than it’s felt this past week,” he replied laughing.  “Do you think that people will stop trying to kill me now that I’m actually king?”
“Not likely, but you could get lucky,” she said with a wink.
Eryk settled his arm comfortably around Aislynn’s waist, to help support her failing steps, and the two of them settled down to their meal and to the business of running the kingdom.



Epilogue

Eryk sat behind the desk in his study, signing and sealing a pile of papers that was waiting for him.  Aislynn and Cheta were across the room, Aislynn seated on the couch and Cheta lying in the sun.  Eryk’s first public court was rapidly approaching, and she was trying to sort the petitions into an order that would be reasonably balanced.  She didn’t want too many complicated cases back to back, nor did she want too many easy cases in a group.  She remembered from her limited time at court that too many easy cases led to sleeping courtiers.
There came a knock at the door.  It sounded so loud compared to the sound of shuffling papers that they both jumped in alarm.  With a pair of guards assigned by Byron guarding the study door and her twins outside in the garden, Aislynn knew that they were safe enough, but it was still difficult to forget the craziness of her first ten days in Bacovia.  Her wounds were still healing, her life just getting back into a normal routine.
“Your Majesty, I am sorry to disturb you and the princess,” said the guard who entered the room.  “There is a man here who has some important information for you.  It could not wait.”
“That’s fine,” Eryk said, gesturing to the guard to allow the man inside the room.
The man who entered the study was dusty from travel, and obviously worried enough about the information he carried that he hadn’t stopped to clean up before presenting himself to the king.  He wore the uniform of a soldier of the Bacovian army, red and black, and he was quite young, likely only a year or two into his career as a soldier.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing low.  “I was sent from the Madelian border by my commander with some very important information.”
Aislynn rose from the couch and moved over to the desk, taking her accustomed position at Eryk’s left shoulder.  He gestured for the soldier to continue.
“There is fighting across the border,” he said.
“That’s nothing new,” Eryk said.  “We’ve been fighting across the border with Madelia for generations.”
“This is different,” the soldier insisted.  “Before today, it was always bandits who were blamed.  This time, the attackers are making no effort to hide their identity.  The men wear the uniforms of Madelia, and they are burning the border towns.  Refugees are already making their way south, and will likely reach the capital in two or three days.”
Eryk and Aislynn exchanged looks, and Aislynn moved to the door to whisper something to one of the guards waiting outside, calling the councilors to an emergency meeting.  
Bacovia was at war.
# # #

About the Author
M.M. Brownlow is an elementary school teacher.  She lives with her husband and three sons in Ontario, Canada, and is currently working on a new series, Pursuing Victory.  Look for the second and third books of the King’s Assassin series, War Torn and Bells & Blades, at Smashwords.com