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I paced my room most days, feeling like a wild animal that had been caged and was slowly being starved to death. And she was like my food, my sustenance. As soon as I broke free of this stupid restraint I was implementing on myself, I had a bad feeling I would try to feast on her like a savage beast.
But with that thought rose the fear that I would come on too strong and frighten her in my desperation, scar her permanently, and possibly even endanger her unborn child. So I locked the needs in even tighter.
Except being trapped inside my own head was driving me crazy. The only moments I was able to even begin to alleviate the restlessness I felt were in the evenings when Nicolette forced me to teach her the fine art of chess.
The queen had put a damper on our fun the first few nights when she’d hovered over us like a disapproving hen, but she soon grew bored of our innocent competition. After the second night, she had a servant chaperone us, instead. Last night, she hadn’t even bothered with that, and the game had grown infinitely more entertaining.
Nicolette was lively and full of mischief. She reminded me of Allera. So I quickly grew a brotherly affection for her and started quizzing her on her multiplication and division tables while we played, which brightened her mood around me even more.
Occasionally, she would slip me facts about Vienne, like how Vienne was the one who’d originally taught her the multiplication tables, or that Vienne had shown Nicolette secret tunnels within the castle, or that Vienne and Soren slept in separate rooms… Not that I needed to learn that detail, but I did so love learning that detail.
But during the days… God, during the days, I suffered. I rarely saw Allera. She and Brentley had become thick as thieves, always going off by themselves to “get to know each other.” I suppose I should’ve been pleased she was getting along so swimmingly with her betrothed, but I had thought I’d get to see her more often than this.
By day eight of this ongoing hell, I decided I needed to do something—anything—before I snapped.
When I felt my one true love’s presence leave the castle, I ignored the urge to follow her, and I dared to leave my bedchamber in order to explore the grounds a little.
Always one who preferred the outdoors, I found my way out of the keep, wandering out the back until I came upon the garden.
A couple dozen servants—a few of them my own that had come over from High Cliff with Allera and me—were milling about, using scythes to sweep their way across the grass and cut it short, while others crouched among the rows of flowers and bushes clipping and plucking wilted petals and weeds as they perfected the garden to a state I hadn’t even thought possible.
Truly, I wasn’t even aware grass could be trimmed so short or grow so green. It amazed me that the entire kingdom was surrounded by nothing but sand, yet around the castle and throughout the city of Mandalay, the land was prosperous with vegetation.
There was much about this place I found intriguing.
“My lord!” one of the servants exclaimed, noticing my presence. He popped up from the bed of roses he was kneeling among to prune so he could bow to me. “Apologies. We weren’t aware a royal would be visiting the garden today. Do you wish us to stop our landscaping so you may enjoy the scenery in peace?”
“No, of course not.” I waved the suggestion away with a scoff. “Don’t stop anything on my account.” The mere suggestion that they would even consider that sounded ridiculous to my ears. “In fact,” I added, “if there’s anything I can do to help, I’d gladly lend my assistance. I’ve been craving a little manual labor.”
The man blinked blankly at me before slowly saying, “Help? Us?”
One of the High Cliff servants snickered from nearby and shook her head, a smile playing at her lips. She was used to me rolling up my sleeves and toiling among the workers whenever the mood struck. The Donnellean servants obviously weren’t used to such royal participation.
With a sigh, I shook my head to the confused Donnelly man. “Never mind,” I murmured. “I was just passing through. Carry on.”
When I fluttered a hand at him, dismissing him, he looked grateful to be excused as he bowed and hurried off with an armful of rose leaves he’d clipped.
Feeling unwelcome, I left the garden and meandered toward a palisade that separated the garden from whatever was behind it. As I neared it, I heard the sound of clanging metal, shuffling feet, and the occasional grunt of exertion. There was either a battle going on back there, or this was where the soldiers trained.
Curious about the Donnelly army, I found the opening to the gate and entered the bailey courtyard within. Two soldiers dueled while everyone else stood around, watching. No one noticed my presence as I neared the edge of the circle in order to observe the match as well.
Neither man was that talented. They placed their feet all wrong, held their swords in the worst possible positions, and failed to actually think each swing through. It seemed as if the larger man was only winning because of his natural brute strength and size.
Scowling, I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest before rubbing my chin thoughtfully.
The smaller soldier had stamina and speed plus the will to keep going. He could win easily, if only he had the proper training. When the larger soldier knocked him down and he stumbled to his hands and knees not far from me, I stepped forward to hold out a hand and help him up.
He blinked at me with confusion before slowly accepting my grip. I pulled him up, and in doing so, I tugged him close enough to murmur in his ear, “He always strikes high and favors the right side, so go in low and left, and you’ll best him.”
The soldier shook his head and blinked at me. “What?”
“Low and left,” I repeated, lifting my eyebrows meaningfully. Then I shoved him back into the ring. “Trust me.”
He stared at me dumbly as if I’d spoken a foreign language. His dueling partner attacked from behind, and I was certain he was going to get flattened again, but he must’ve heard the man coming, because he ducked at the last second and swung around to face his foe.
They exchanged blows for nary a minute before the soldier I’d spoken to finally took my advice. Suddenly, he swept in low to the left and was able to connect hard enough with his opponent that he tumbled the man from his feet.
A cheer rang out for him as the lumbering giant landed hard on his back in the dust. As the loser cursed and picked himself up, the victor turned to me, grinning widely, before he bowed in gratitude.
