Harlan chuckled.
‘He makes it really hard to keep him alive sometimes.’
‘Only sometimes?’
When they reached Harlan’s horse, Astin waited for the groom to leave before asking, ‘Does the thought of those two men having direct dealings with one another fill you with as much fear as it does me?’
Harlan mounted and looked down at him. ‘Safe to assume they’re not sharing strategies on how to better help the poor. Talk to Presley about it next time you see her. She did say she wanted to see you before her wedding.’
‘Not sure an interrogation is what she had in mind.’
‘But not tonight,’ Harlan said, swinging his horse around and nudging the mare forwards. ‘Tonight, enjoy the fact that someone else is keeping the king alive and get some sleep.’
‘That is such a married person thing to say,’ Astin called to him. ‘Perhaps I’ll go to the tavern for a few ales.’
Harlan emitted a low laugh before kicking his horse into a canter.
Chapter 8
Lyndal and Kendra descended the grand staircase into the courtyard, hoods of their cloaks pulled up to protect them from the mist of rain. In the middle sat a fountain, water bubbling out of the top and spilling down three tiers of stone. All that was missing from the scene was a summer sun and ladies in short-sleeved dresses, laughing into brass goblets. Lyndal remained hopeful she would see something like it again in her lifetime.
‘Of course I had to let Queen Fayre win,’ Kendra whispered as they passed the fountain. ‘I cannot simply beat her at chess and expect us to be friends afterwards.’
Lyndal looked up at the smoky black sky. How she missed the stars. ‘I think Queen Fayre is the kind of woman who would prefer to win on merit, not charity.’
‘I was being polite.’
‘I think the word you’re looking for is deceitful.’
Kendra closed her mouth. ‘Do you think she likes me?’
‘What’s not to like?’
‘You literally just labelled me deceitful.’
Lyndal smiled. ‘I simply want you to be yourself. It’s a long charade if you do become queen.’
They passed the chapel and stopped at the entrance to the hall, peering inside. Guests stood in small groups in the middle of the room while others were seated at the long tables lining each wall. Trays of food sat untouched. Eggs, salted meat, roasted chicken, and colourful root vegetables. Guilt slashed through Lyndal like a knife. In the next borough, children were being put to bed with a cup of warm water, a trick to fool the stomach into thinking it had been fed.
‘I do hope there will be dancing,’ Kendra said. ‘Perhaps the king will ask me.’
Lyndal’s gaze drifted to the high table where Borin was seated, picking through a plate of food. His mother sat at his side, watching the room. The chairs around them were empty. Prince Becket had departed soon after the coronation, taking the number of royal family members in Chadora to two. It was no secret Queen Fayre wished that number to grow.
‘Oh, there is Lady Henley,’ Kendra said, smoothing down the front of her dress. ‘We should take the seats nearest her. She is one of Queen Fayre’s closest friends.’
Lyndal’s feet did not want to move suddenly, or rather wanted to move in the other direction—towards her bed. But as neither bed nor lingering in the doorway for the remainder of the evening were viable options, she sighed inwardly and followed her cousin.
Warmed by ale, Astin followed the rain-soaked path around the castle, still trying to figure out why he turned down a barmaid’s advances in place of a perimeter check. After all, if the king died on someone else’s watch, it would be no reflection on him.
As he neared the south gate, some movement farther along the wall caught his eye. His feet stilled as he peered into the dark. The guard on duty at the gate looked between him and the wall.
‘Something wrong, sir?’ the defender called to him.
Astin held a hand up to silence him, then moved deeper into the shadows. He froze when he realised what he was looking at. It was a gently swinging rope, moving as if someone had not long ago released their grip on it. His heart sped up as he looked up and drew his weapon.
‘Breach!’ he shouted, turning away and breaking into a run towards the gate.
The defender on duty drew his weapon also. ‘Breach!’ he echoed.
