‘The defender part was accidental. I met Harlan down at the port one day. He convinced his father to let me train with him. The warden offered me a bed at the barracks. I suspect it was more about keeping Harlan company than my skills at the time. Anyway, it seemed like a better alternative than sleeping on the street.’
‘So you stayed, and you became the great defender who stands before me now.’ When he did not respond, she said, ‘Your stepfather must be a special breed of man to have you fleeing your own home.’
Astin met her gaze. ‘Like I said, we didn’t get along.’
‘Does he get along with the rest of your family?’
He squinted in the direction of the dancers as a new song struck up. ‘I think the women in my family are more forgiving than me.’
‘Forgiving of what?’
The memory of a belt slicing his back had him rolling one shoulder. ‘Story time’s over.’
Lyndal’s face filled with pity. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’ The question came out more agitated than he intended.
‘I’m a merchant. I know suffering when I see it.’
When he met her eyes again, his rigid shoulders fell a little.
‘There you are,’ Queen Fayre said, stepping in between them.
Astin had been so caught up in conversation he had forgotten that he was responsible for two women. His eyes went to Kendra, who was thankfully still with her parents.
‘The king requires a dance partner,’ Queen Fayre said. ‘I think you might be the perfect partner for him on this day.’
Lyndal appeared horrified by the idea. ‘You wantmeto dance with the king?’
‘There is no dancing in this area, as you know, so who better to help the king navigate the common space than a woman who has danced in it every year.’
Astin glanced over his shoulder at the merchants. ‘That’s not a good idea. Parading him in front of drunk merchants will invite trouble.’
The queen mother looked at him. ‘Hiding behind a rope is not going to solve the problem, Fletcher. My son has bridges to mend.’
While that was true, Astin did not want Lyndal anywhere near those broken bridges.
Lyndal cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps Lady Kendra might be a more suitable partner.’
‘If I wanted Lady Kendra, I would have asked Lady Kendra.’ Fayre’s tone was impatient.
Lyndal looked to Astin as though expecting him to do something—something other than follow orders.
‘Wait here,’ Queen Fayre said. ‘I shall tell him you are ready.’ Then she wandered off to whisper in her son’s ear.
‘My uncle is going to kill me,’ Lyndal told Astin, her hands opening and closing at her sides. ‘He’ll read this as an act of war against his daughter.’
Every hair on Astin’s body was now standing on end. ‘He’ll have to get through me first.’
A hush fell over the nobility crowd as the king made his way over to Lyndal. He stopped in front of her, looking inconvenienced by the whole thing, then extended one hand.
Lyndal stared at that hand for a moment before reaching up to take it. The rope was pulled back, letting the pair enter the main area of the festival. People stopped talking, stopped dancing, stopped mid-pour of an ale to watch the pair strolling hand in hand towards them. The music faded to silence, and people began moving out of their way, never looking from the strange sight. The king never ventured to that side of the rope during the festival—and he certainly did not do so with a merchant at his side.
Astin followed so closely on Lyndal’s heel that he was certain she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. His eyes jumped between faces and down to the hands stuffed in pockets. Every one of his senses was working together to keep her safe as she strolled alongside a moving target.
The pair stopped in the middle of the dance floor, and the peasants slowly formed a circle behind the defenders, who stood with their hands on the hilts of their weapons.
‘Something cheerful,’ the queen mother called to the musicians as she strolled into the open space to watch.
