Always There Page 6

  Chastaine glowered at all and sundry as they trudged through the streets of Shenan. Two weeks, he reminded himself. Two weeks and he would be back home, in his own bed, and hopefully back to his routine. He missed the hunting, the brewing, and eating a quick lunch before the work resumed, be it planting or harvesting or the hundreds of other tasks that would come with the thaw; the boisterous meals on those days they could afford to sit and eat for an extended period of time, and the quiet camaraderie on the days they could not.

  More than anything, though, Chastaine missed someone at his back. Knowing that while he tended the south and east fields, Lyon watched the north and west. That every problem he did not anticipate, Lyon would. So many little things had nagged him on this journey, a dozen little mistakes because he was too used to someone else covering what he could not. Too used to being a half.

  Scrubbing at his face, Chastaine sent Kodey ahead to commandeer an inn after pressing coin into his hand. He wondered if Kodey was nervous or unhappy to be back here where they had so poorly met; but if he was, he gave no sign of it, darting off knowingly through the streets and eager to please, so very different from the uncertain waif he had been just a short time ago.

  "It is good to be back on familiar shores," Lady Winifred sighed, "although I shall not be truly content until I am home and can rest in my own bed."

  Chastaine glowered at the mention of her bed, for she would no longer be sleeping in it alone, and by the day he was finding it harder to contrive reasons to take Brigand's head. Infuriating, to say the least, and ere he lost his own head for this mess, he would find one of his own to take.

  He turned away as Lady Winifred chatted idly with her husband and the men, letting her work her magic upon them while he waited for Kodey to return. He returned sooner than Chastaine had expected, grinning brightly and barely holding still long enough to tell him that all had been arranged at the inn—the very one that Chastaine had used before, close to the tavern where he had first encountered Kodey.

  "There was also a message for you, Sir Chastaine!" Kodey said eagerly, handing over the tightly rolled scroll. Chastaine took it, wondering that this time he did not have to force his smile. The vellum was sealed with the Triad symbol, stamped into Lyon's deep yellow wax. He broke the seal and unrolled the missive, hoping for some form of good news to raise his spirits.

  Chastaine,

  Promptly after your last missive, I sent the Beauclerc home with the full tale—as well I knew it—of the troubles surrounding Her Ladyship. The two week journey to the palace, and at least another two back for whomever he sends to take our heads, will hopefully give you enough time to return that we might defend our keep proper.

  Brigand, I trust, you have been putting through his paces. I have prepared both the south corner room so recently vacated by the Beauclerc and a choice cell in the dungeons.

  Should you find no other missive awaiting you, trust that for now all is well at home. We await the return of our lady most eagerly, and I will most gladly return to you those tasks you have been sorely neglecting on this tiresome quest. Being headless is no excuse for continuing to neglect them, as I trust you are aware.

  The worst of the weather should be long past; you have only mud and water to fear, and those should be as naught beside the chore of dealing with a princess and her brigand husband.

  Speed home.

  Lyon

  Lady Winifred's soft laughter broke into his thoughts. "La, even apart you two are together. What has Lyon to say, Chastaine?"

  "That your father has been informed, all for now is well at the castle—unless that has only quite recently changed —and your people eagerly await your return."

  "I eagerly await our return," Lady Winifred replied. "I fear it shall be a brief return, but to see it one last time … " She sighed and smiled sadly. "Come, let us find our beds that we might be home that much sooner."

  Chastaine nodded and tucked the missive away, turning to lead them toward the inn. "Aye, my lady."

  They reached the inn rapidly, swiftly settling into their respective rooms. Chastaine cast Brigand a glare, but it was a useless effort—his own were not half so fierce as Lyon's and Brigand unfortunately had every right to do as he pleased to his wife.

  Heaving a sigh, Chastaine closed the door to his own room—and felt a smile tug at his mouth to see how diligently Kodey was working to set his things away, fussing over the food brought up before their arrival, and poking at the fire to make certain it stayed properly ablaze. "Sit a spell, lad. You are at least as tired as the rest."

  "Nay, my lord," Kodey said, shaking his head vigorously. "I can scarcely hold still."

  "Oh?" Chastaine asked, removing his cloak before taking a seat. He held out a hunk of bread and cheese, chuckling at the way Kodey wolfed it down as he fluttered back to poke at the fire. "Why ever is that?"

  Kodey looked up at him, then dropped his eyes and turned back to the fire. "I am eager to see your castle, my lord. I … I do not want to be sent off again … "

  "You will not be," Chastaine said firmly. He reached into his coin purse and pulled out a smallpence. "Catch, lad," he called, and flicked the coin as Kodey turned. "Run along and see what sweetmeats you might find. Be well back before dark falls."

  "Aye, my lord!" Kodey cried, eyes bright. He snatched up his cloak and called a hasty farewell as he bolted from the room.

  Chuckling, Chastaine picked up his tankard and drank deeply of the warmed ale. Sweeter than he liked; Lyon would like it more, although he would agree that it was too thin. Soon he would be home, perhaps able to enjoy his own ale a bit before the king sent someone to remove his head. He wondered if they would at least grant the boon that he and Lyon be buried at Castle Triad. Thinking of being placed amongst the bones of his ancestors in the dank depths of the family chapel somehow left him depressed. He would much rather be buried on Triad lands, perhaps in the field not far from the castle itself where the crops never seemed to take. The trees there were fine, the view splendid … it would not be a bad place at all to rest eternally.

  Lyon, he knew, would agree.

  Shaking his head at the strange direction of his thoughts, Chastaine put them to exhaustion. Setting aside his ale, he had just begun to eat when the door abruptly slammed open. "What—Kodey, what is wrong?"

  "My lord! My lord—men—one looks like you."

  "Calm down, Kodey," Chastaine said firmly, but the words Kodey had managed to get out chilled his blood. "Speak slowly, take your time."

  Kodey shook his head furiously back and forth, hair flying about. "There is no time, my lord. Men come dressed in the king's colors. One looks like you. That is troublesome, is it not?"

  "Quite troublesome," Chastaine said quietly, standing up and pulling his cloak back on. He had hoped to be at Castle Triad before the end arrived. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that he might die alone.

  Not entirely alone, he supposed; Lady Winifred was here … yet it was not the same thing.

  As her guardian, there was always the chance Chastaine would fall protecting her or die for failing to do so. At any moment the end could come, as it nearly had for Lyon when the festival banquet had been poisoned. Every scenario had been pondered between them, plans made for every one they could imagine. In all of them, it was accepted that they would fight together, die together. Like so many things between them, it was not necessary to speak on it. That Chastaine would shortly die without his fellow guardian beside him seemed wrong. It seemed unfair. Always it had been the two of them: he guarded Lyon's back, Lyon watched his, and together they kept their eyes on the troublesome princess. How cruel it seemed that at the last they were miles apart.

  Chastaine wondered what it meant that rather than worry over what would become of the princess when he and Lyon were no longer there to guard her, he thought only of Lyon.

  Before he could follow the thought to its conclusion, there came a sharp pounding at the door. Kodey jumped, crying out, and bolted for Chas
taine, clinging to him and half-hiding beneath his cloak. A moment later, the door flew open.

  The man filling the doorway was Chastaine's height, although in the full armor and bright blue tunic bearing the unicorn crest, he seemed much larger. His hair was the same wavy gold, eyes the same blue. Save for the beard and the lines of age carved into his face, he could have been Chastaine's twin.

  "Brother," Chastaine said calmly. "I did not think His Majesty would be so cruel as to make you take my head."

  "Oh, I shall not be the one removing it," the Captain of the Royal Knights replied. "My orders are to take you to Castle Brae for His Majesty to mete out your punishment at his leisure."

  Chastaine barely kept his shoulders from sagging in relief. Perhaps he would not die alone after all.

  "Who is the boy?" the captain demanded.

  "My squire," Chastaine said calmly. "When my head tumbles from my shoulders, at least grant me the boon of seeing that he is returned to Castle Triad. He has committed no wrong in this, merely shown poor judgment in choosing to cast his lot with mine."

  The captain grunted. "Such boons are not mine to grant. Gather your things; I would keep this affair as peaceful as it might be."

  Chastaine relaxed a bit, knowing that his brother would see Kodey cared for as he wished. They had never been close, he and Tobin, but Tobin had children of his own, one of them about Kodey's age.

  "Sir Chastaine?" Kodey asked, eyes filling his face as he looked up.

  "All will be well," Chastaine said, ruffling his hair. "Gather our things, lad. We want not to keep my brother waiting."

  Kodey bobbed a small nod. "A-aye, my lord."

  Leaving Kodey to it, Chastaine joined Tobin and left the inn. Outside, Princess Winifred stood proud and regal—and infuriated. "Captain, I demand—"

  "With all due respect, Princess, your father's demands supersede your own. By his orders, you are to be taken to Castle Brae; there your fate is to be decided by His Majesty." His eyes strayed to the man beside her, narrowing. "As will yours."

  Before Brigand could speak, Chastaine drew his brother's attention. "How fares the family, Tobin? It has been years since I have seen or heard from my kin."

  "They are much the same," Tobin replied, motioning to his knights to take them all away. From the houses and shops all around them faces peeked, and Chastaine wondered how quickly the tale would spread of the brigands taken into custody by the king's captain. "Father is displeased that you have failed the family so."

  "He has failed no one," Princess Winifred said sharply, voice ringing out and drawing all around her up short. "Chastaine and Lyon have ever been my protectors, and they have succeeded in regaining me where you would have very likely failed, good Captain."

  Tobin sneered and mounted his horse as it was brought. "I would not have seen you lost in the first place, Lady."

  "Aye, you would have," Princess Winifred replied, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "All know the captain enjoys fine food. The poison slipped into our banquet would have struck you at least as hard as it struck those of my keep. Even my sire is not immune to such devious Roth tricks."

  "We go," Tobin said curtly, spurring his horse and leading them from the city.

  Chastaine reached down and caught up Kodey as he came running out, this time settling him in front, rather than behind. Kodey trembled in his arms and Chastaine wished he could better soothe him. Kodey seemed cursed with a tumultuous life. "All will be well, lad."

  "Will they really take your head, Sir Chastaine?" Kodey asked tearfully.

  "I know not," Chastaine answered honestly. The way the journey had fared, with one misstep after another and more surprises than he liked, he realized that there was little use in predicting anything.

  Princess Winifred looked at him. "I wonder if they have taken the keep, then." She smiled weakly. "At least we will see Lyon again."

  Chastaine nodded, wondering how that simple thought eased him in a way naught else did.

  "What of my keep?" Princess Winifred demanded. "Has my father ordered it razed? Have my people been slain or driven from their home because my father bungled my marriage and spurred the Rothlanders to this contemptible behavior?"

  Tobin drew his horse to a halt and turned it around, moving closer to Princess Winifred. "You will watch your tongue, Princess. His Majesty is a finer ruler than most and made the best decisions he could. The fault for this debacle lies not with him, but with those who failed in their sworn duty to protect you. Do not blame your sire for the mistakes of others."

  "Who gives you leave to speak so to her?" Brigand demanded before anyone else could speak. "She is your Princess, your superior, and commands your respect. Treat her accordingly."

  Sneering, Tobin shifted his attention to Brigand. "Who are you to reprimand me, vagrant? I have the king's permission to speak as I please to all and I will not tolerate words spoken against His Majesty, not even from his daughter. Especially not from his daughter, who should be grateful for the care her sire has given her all these years."

  "You will respect my lady wife or answer to steel for the transgression," Brigand replied, hand going to the hilt of his sword and touching it lightly in warning.

  "Enough, Shad," Chastaine interrupted. "Brother, it would serve you well to recall that in all of this, it is Her Highness who has suffered most. She has the right to speak as she pleases. How would you feel if 'twas your lady wife who had been so crassly treated? If such outrages were ever inflicted upon your daughter?"

  Grunting, Tobin turned his mount back around and motioned for the party to continue moving.

  Chastaine breathed a sigh of relief, and then moved forward to ride alongside Shad.

  "So I am no longer Brigand?" Shad asked. "I was becoming rather fond, really. Shad sounds not half so notorious."

  "You have yet to gain Lyon's approval," Chastaine reminded, but grinned. "Any man who tells off my brother has my approval. He should not have spoken so to Her Highness." He winked. "Should you have to reprimand him again and the matter comes to swords drawn, Tobin always lowers his guard ere he lunges or feints. He is fond of feinting to the right midway through a fight. He never understood why all of his brothers bested him."

  Shad laughed. "My thanks, Sir Chastaine."

  "How many brothers do you have, my lord?" Kodey asked, turning his head to peer up at Chastaine, brown eyes bright with curiosity.

  Chastaine smiled. "Oh, how many do I have? A very good question; we are so scattered to the winds that it is hard to remember us all. Tobin there is the eldest, the star in our father's eye. Kyler and Branson journeyed across the sea, guarding the king's third eldest son; they are twins and drove my mother mad with their antics, or so the family tales do say. So that is three. Then there are my sisters, first Tea, and then Constance. Four and five. After that, 'tis only me."

  Kodey nodded, turning back around and settling against him. Chastaine knew he would commit it all to memory and likely ask countless questions as he continued to grow more comfortable. If there were reasons not to despise this entire mess, Kodey was among them. Chastaine was not sorry a bit to have been overly harsh that night, if it gained him this squire.

  "I want one," Princess Winifred said, smiling fondly at Kodey and flushing faintly as her own words struck her.

  Shad, riding between her and Chastaine, said nothing, but Chastaine did not miss the brief, happy smile which flitted across his face nor the way he reached out to gently clasp Princess Winifred's hand. If Shad had not already won his approval, Chastaine would have given it then.

  He still rather hoped that Shad jumped or otherwise reacted amusingly to Lyon's glares—especially as it meant that Lyon would still be around to brandish them and Chastaine would be around to witness.

  "Who did His Majesty send to the castle to fetch Lyon?" he asked.

  Tobin did not bother to turn around as he replied, "I do not know. My orders were to locate Her Highness and you, and escort you to Castle Brae."

 
His brother was lying. Tobin was Captain of the Guard; he would be kept abreast of all that pertained to this affair, if His Majesty had seen fit to involve his captain in it. Why, then, would Tobin lie about knowing who was going to fetch Lyon?

  Obtaining answers would be fruitless—he would merely have to bide his time and wait and see … and hope that what he saw was Lyon.

  When the day passed with no missive, Lyon began to brood. It was, of course, entirely possible that the messenger had been waylaid. Mishaps occurred … but after the letters they had already exchanged, one coming from the villages but a few days' ride away … Perhaps he was merely anxious for the matter to finally come to a finish.

  No. Chastaine would have sent word a few days ahead of their arrival, that Lyon might have time to properly prepare for Lady Winifred's return. To judge by the last missive he had received, with the weather clear and spring driving winter swiftly away, Chastaine should have already sent word.

  Scowling, Lyon strode from the keep and across the courtyard, not quite stomping up the stairs to the battlements only with effort.

  "All clear, Sir Lyon," a guard said before he could speak.

  Lyon nodded and glared out at the landscape, silently ordering it to surrender Lady Winifred and his comrade. They were not due back for some days yet, but he should have heard from Chastaine by now. The landscape proved itself immune to his efforts, however, and Lyon's ire only increased.

  "Riders, ho!" the east guards bellowed.

  Lyon whipped around and all but bolted for the eastern side of the outer curtain, walking briskly along the battlement and narrowing his eyes as he took in glinting metal and brilliant blue. Royal soldiers; six of them.

  Why would His Majesty send a mere handful of soldiers? Not even a single knight amongst them. Suspicious, to say the least. "Go and order everyone into the keep," he commanded the nearest guard. "No one leaves it until I say." He turned to the next guard. "Double the guard along the battlements. Keep weapons lowered, make no motion against them. Should things go awry, although I cannot imagine how they would with merely six of them against the entire keep, bar the doors and let no one in until you hear from me, Chastaine, or Lady Winifred."