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“Rise,” I snap, never one to enjoy seeing anyone on their knees, even if it is to show respect.
The man does as he is told, his hand going to his coat. On reflex, my men behind me instantly raise their swords, thinking this stranger was sent to murder me, no doubt. I roll my eyes and take a step toward him, seeing the familiar crest on his ring.
“You bring news from the west?” I ask, to which he nods hesitantly, his gaze still fixed on my men’s weapons aimed at him.
“I do, Your Highness. A letter from my lord and liege.”
I almost chuckle at his choice of wording, since I know full well that his so-called lord is even less interested in such monarch tradition than I am.
“Well, give it here, man. I don’t have all day,” I quip impatiently.
He nods and pulls out a scroll from his coat pocket before handing it over.
“My lord requests a fast reply to his correspondence, Your Majesty.”
“And you shall have it,” I retort, waving him off.
“It’s of the utmost importance that you do,” he adds anxiously, fidgeting from one foot to the other, his gaze locked on the pointy steel swords that never lower.
“How about I read the damn thing first? Yes? Can’t give you an answer if I don’t know what the question is, now can I?” I explain, a little annoyed at his persistence. “Wait here.”
“Your Highness!” he shouts before I’m able to move too far away from him. “Could you please tell your men to lower their swords while I wait?”
I almost chuckle at his request.
“Tell me, squire, would your lord and liege—as you fondly call him—do the same for any man I send his way with word from me? Or would your king have a knife at my man’s throat just to make sure he wasn’t some assassin sent to kill him?”
The rider’s eyes instantly fall to the snow.
“That’s what I thought. Stay here,” I repeat more sternly, before turning away from him.
As I start walking down the small hill to find some privacy amongst the trees, I feel Kat’s eyes on me. I turn around and smirk when she pretends that she wasn’t just staring at me.
The Kat of my past had always been the curious type. She hated secrets. And whenever she thought one was in her midst, she did her very best to reveal them. I guess some habits are hard to break.
Ah, Katrina, has no one ever told you that curiosity killed the cat?
Even though it must eat away at her, Katrina continues to pretend she doesn’t care one bit what news I possess in my hands and continues faking that whatever silly chatter she’s having with her handmaidens is far more interesting.
Now that I’m certain she won’t follow, I walk farther down the small hill until I find a boulder to sit on. After I’ve swiped the snow off it, I take a seat and stretch my legs, and take a breath before breaking the orange marigold seal to read what’s inside.
Dearest brother,
I hope this letter finds you well and at the start of your journey home.
If you are reading these words, then I can take some comfort knowing the bitch of the north hasn’t sliced your throat yet.
Be careful, Levi.
I know from experience what it feels like to be pulled into her web of lies and eat them up like they are the sweetest dessert to ever touch your lips.
Don’t believe anything she says.
She’s the enemy.
She always has been.
We were just too blinded by youth and naivete to have seen it before.
