Overhead, sheets hung from a laundry line flapped like flags as a cool wind blew. Dark, purpose-filled eyes peered into the shadows from under a gilded helm, and a strong jaw set in concentration. She stared into those eyes, feeling small and certain he would see her.
It was a feeling she’d had before, one wrapped within the scent of pine and smoke, with a dark shadow looming over her back, and the shouts of people and the cry of horses filling her ears. Under the blanket with Athan, she felt both safe and trapped. Her breathing stopped. The man’s eyes, that stranger upon the horse who sat in a strangely familiar silhouette, gave her feet a sudden urge to run. The scars stung beneath their bandages, and her mouth opened into a silent scream.
‘Run!’ a voice called out through the smoke and flames. ‘Run, child!’
A black horse appeared, the shadows parting for him as if by command. A monstrous silhouette backlit by raging fires and topped by a plume of crimson blood. A sword, shining in the darkness and dancing with the flames. Screams in the night and falling to the earth.
“Run, my daughter. Leave me and run!”
‘Papa,’ Dnara could not speak the word, her throat raw from swallowing the scream.
A great wind swept through the alley and Treven raised his head, his mouth full of grass. The knight tarried a moment longer then faced forward again. A kick of the stirrups to his horse’s ribs sent the beast trotting forward to catch up to his squad. Onward they marched until the thunder grew quiet and the tremors faded. Dnara let out the breath she’d held the moment the young knight turned their way.
“By Retgar’s beard.” Athan lowered the blanket and let out a breath of his own. “Thanks for the warning, Trev. Can’t believe he was with them, so far from the Red Keep.”
Treven nodded his head as if understanding and spit out the grass in favor of the carrot Athan produced from a pocket. Pushing away from the wall, Dnara steadied her heart and her voice as the muddled memory clouding her eyes broke away like cobwebs in the breeze. “Who was that man?”
Athan patted Treven’s neck then began rolling up the blanket. “Aldric, First Commander of the King’s Guard. They call him the King’s Sword, and he’s never far from the king’s side. Lelandis must be getting desperate, sending him so far inland to keep the peace.”
“Keep the peace?” she asked, carefully stepping into the light at the end of the alley. The men and their horses were now far down the road, but she could still make out Aldric atop his stallion, and she could still feel his eyes staring into hers. “They look as if they’re going to war.”
“Going to burn down some poor sod’s farm, more like,” Athan muttered as he tied the rolled blanket to the saddle, yanking hard on the rope and causing Treven to give an argumentative low whinny. Athan sighed and patted the mule’s neck. “Sorry.”
A window lifted on the second floor of one of the houses overlooking the alley and an older woman stuck her head out to look below. “You lost?” she asked with a shrewd purse of her lips.
“No, ma’am,” Athan said, putting on his friendly smile. “My sister and I only wished to find a temporary respite from the rain.”
The woman tutted her tongue. “A respite from them soldiers, more like. Best be on about your business and keeping your troubles to yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am. No trouble intended. Have a pleasant day.” Athan cordially bowed to the woman then led Treven back onto the road.
“Ain’t been a pleasant day ‘round here in years,” she grumbled before closing the window with a jerking slam.
Dnara watched the King’s Guard a moment longer, until they disappeared over a hill on the horizon. Running to catch up with Athan, she adjusted her neck scarf and attempted to pay more attention to the puddles in the road. “I thought you were going to tell folks I’m your uncle’s friend’s sister’s...cousin...?”
“My uncle’s friend’s daughter from Lambshire,” he corrected with a grin. “I am, but that woman couldn’t see past her own nose, so I didn’t see the point in complicating my answer.”
“Oh.” She hopped over one puddle and almost stumbled into another as she thought over the meaning behind his words, uncertain if she’d be able to remember who’s daughter’s cousin’s friend she was. Maybe if she asked Athan to write it down so she could read it? The way she could remember written words over spoken ones vexed her as much as it had her keeper.
‘Stupid girl, I said black tea not red.’
‘The kitchen is out of blackleaf,’ she’d lied instead of admitting she’d forgotten on the way between his study at the top of the tower and the kitchen at the bottom.
‘Oh,’ her keeper had said with one white eyebrow rigidly raised. ‘They had plenty this morning.’
That lie had earned her a lashing, one of her first in the early years of being kept. She’d not told many lies since. “Lying is complicated.”
“Can be,” Athan agreed. “But, sometimes the truth can be more complicated than the lie.”
She could see the reasoning behind his words and so said nothing further, minding the puddles and pebbles on the path instead. Nor did she ask why they had slipped into the alley, or how Treven had known of the squadron’s approach. Easier not to have to explain to a man like Sir
