| |
It was the day of the tournament and I had not been able to catch a word with Kaspar. The power imbalance in our relationship was something that constantly irked me. I could only see him if he permitted it. And he had been right when he said he would be too busy training his knights to sneak away to see me.
There had been a constant tightness in my chest ever since the drink with Mirabelle. It was obvious that all was not quite well in the kingdom. As I passed the stalls I saw every day, I noticed that prices had been slightly raised and there were less wares covering the tabletops. The gossiping ladies washing their clothes at the fountains complained that the rise in tax had set them back so much they had to sacrifice their own meals to feed their children.
I struggled with this knowledge. It had only been a few days since Tax Day and already people were struggling. I was not. It was then I realised just how isolated I still was from the common townsfolk of Cragdale. When I stopped by Alta’s shop to continue my stitching lessons, she told me I had to stick to the piece I was currently working on because she had to save as many cut offs as she could.
The problems had to be coming from the palace. My frustration at not being able to simply call upon Kaspar like I used to was giving me tension headaches. And I wasn’t even allowed to see him at the tournament to ask him what was going on.
Well, I was not allowed to do a lot of things. But that didn’t stop me from doing them.
By midday, the open stretch of green before the palace’s outer walls was alive with merriment. It occurred to me as I made my way over that this tournament was clearly a distraction.
The king’s idea to boost morale seemed to be working well. Because what better way to get people excited than to have them watch a bunch of men poke each other with big sticks? Of course, I am undermining the strength and skill of the sport in jest. I know if it were me on horseback charging at someone with one of those things pointed at me, I’d swerve the blow and just keep on running.
I stood among the crowd in my drab common attire, my motley in the sack slung over my shoulder, the peas taken from the bells so they did not jingle and give me away. My eyes were trained on the dressing tent where Kaspar’s squire was helping him into his armour. Before any sort of training or tournament, Kaspar liked to excuse everyone and spend a moment alone to collect his thoughts and focus on the challenge ahead. He had a lot riding on making a good impression. All. The. Time. The tiniest of slip ups could cost him his reputation, and in these uncertain times, I knew he’d need more than a just a moment to breathe.
Just as I expected, his squire left the back exit of the tent and joined the crowd beside the King’s box. I slipped from the crowd and entered through the same slit in the curtain. Kaspar was standing by the centre post, lost in thought as he stared down at the helmet in his hands. I leaned against the post, admiring the exquisite view of him in all his shiny armour. He was wearing his signature one shoulder gauntlet and his blood red tabard with an embroidered golden stag covering the front. There was a furrow in his brows and my stomach twisted. How could I bombard him with questions at a moment like this? He was already under immense pressure from his father and everyone out there cheering for him. Seeming to sense my intrusion, he turned and jumped, lifting his helmet to launch it at me. When he saw it was me, the serious lines in his face softened.
I held up my palms to him and stepped forward, out of the shadows. “Relax. I’m not the ghost of a lowly shoeshine boy. It is I, your warm up entertainment for the evening.”
His lips quirked up but then he assessed my simple dirt coloured britches.
“It appears I am the only one dressed for the occasion.”
I dropped my sack on the ground by my feet. “I came in here to change, and to wish you good luck.” Yes, because that was all I could do. We would have another chance to talk about the real things. What was the point in ruining these stolen moments?
“I don’t need luck. I’m going to win,” he stated matter-of-factly.
I lifted my eyebrows, rather impressed and shocked at his brazen confidence. He was always oh so humble. He caught my expression and rolled his eyes.
“I’m going to win by default no matter what. I’d love my win to be by skill alone but it is obvious my knights daren’t fell me. This whole charade is embarrassing.”
“Well, the crowd out there seem thrilled to see the charade. Or perhaps they’re all here just for me.”
“I’m glad Father is letting you perform.”
“He knows what his people want.” There wasn’t supposed to be a jibe in my words, but they felt wrong when they passed my lips.
“I’m sure you will be incredible. Good luck.”
I grabbed my bag. “Now I’m going to change. Keep your eyes to yourself.”
“You’d better hurry, Franklin will be here any moment to prep me.”
I pulled out my yellow and cerise motley as he paused to watch, his eyes darkening with desire. A sudden thrill danced through my chest as his breath quickened, but he said nothing. Being the gentleman he was, he turned as I dressed. By the time Kaspar had double-checked his armour I was redressed and fixing my bells. I had perfected the art of swift and sufficient outfit changes back in my time of sneaking in and out of Kaspar’s room.
We both heard voices heading towards the tent and I made my hasty exit.
I had blended into the crowd when a squire slinked up beside me and ordered me to the King’s Box. My heart climbed up to my throat as I stood at the edge of the box and the squire presented me. King Cedric turned his head to me and I swallowed a gasp. He had aged since the wedding, which I realised was the last time I had been at such close proximity to the king. His once shining eyes now looked like two dull pebbles in his pallid face, and his beard had thinned in patches, revealing the skin underneath.
“You will not make me regret this decision, will you, boy?” he said, head tilted so he looked down his large nose at me. His tone was cold, detached – like I was nothing but a stranger to him when, only months ago I had been the one to lull him to sleep when his night terrors struck.
“No, Your Highness,” was all I managed to say, my voice a raspy croak.
He sent me a shallow nod and gestured to the arena before us. From over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Lady Delphine and my stomach instantly knotted.
Before I let my nerves get the better of me, I grabbed my batons from where I had left them in my bag by the dressing tent and stormed into the arena with a smile so optimistic it could cure the Shaking Fever.
“Afternoon all!” I greeted, waving my batons in the air to catch everyone’s attention.
The crowd roared, and I tried to capture the faces of each and every of them before turning to the King’s Box right before me. My eyes hit the king who was clapping enthusiastically, the smile on his face breaking at the edges. Beside him, however, Lady Delphine was positively glowing. My grip on my batons tightened at the sight of her in that dress. I recounted my reflection in the store mirror, how the rich material felt like liquid against my skin. How it was so beautiful but ill-fitting – because it wasn’t mine. It belonged to her. I couldn’t argue with that, not now that I could see how radiant she looked in it. The red and gold matched perfectly with Kaspar’s tabard, which I now realised had been the intention. Because they were a matching set. A pair. And then there was me, with my motley coloured like hard candy. A sweet, sinful treat.
My smile never left my face as I showered the king and the lady with compliments, whilst I juggled and leaped about like the fool I was. Lady Delphine clapped throughout my whole performance, her glee an open, wonderful thing. And in the moments when the king caught her attention and they both conversed in hushed toned, I found myself putting more effort and energy into my act to gain her approval. My tongue felt too thick in my mouth and there was a humming of desperation attacking me from the inside as I flipped and rolled and spun.
At my final bow, both the king and the lady gave me a standing ovation. I stayed low but tipped my head to the side to catch their facial expressions. They seemed truly impressed. I was shaking, my breathing ragged in my dry throat, but I had done it.
As I left the arena, I turned back one last time to the King’s Box and saw King Cedric watching me. He sent me another shallow nod and a proud smile peaked through his beard. Heat pressed against the backs of my eyes as I was swallowed back up by the crowd, immediately becoming a forgotten attraction.
The tournament was rather impressive. Sir Isaiah, one of Kaspar’s knights from his inner circle and friend since boyhood, won each of his games until he jousted so mightily that he dislodged his own shoulder and had to step out of the game. But instead of seeking medical attention, he insisted on watching until the end to witness his prince’s win. And, like Kaspar had predicted, he did indeed win. Surviving all five matches without a hit. But from what I saw, it didn’t seem like any of his opponents were holding back. His glory was well earned.
When I said Kaspar was always oh so humble, you wouldn’t have thought it seeing him prancing laps around the grounds, helmet off, fists pumping the air, his face all red and sweaty and gleaming with pride as he hollered and cheered like a warrior.
I was there in the crowd, jumping and applauding. The atmosphere was most definitely infectious. And what a delightful infection it was. After all the worry I’d been having over Mirabelle, to just be able to forget everything for a while and be a part of this wonderful kingdom celebrating their impressive prince on his win was just what I needed.
King Cedric was on his feet clapping and cheering, ‘that’s my boy! That’s your prince!’ Beside him, Lady Delphine couldn’t take her eyes off her husband and every time their eyes locked, her smile grew bigger.
Just like before a match, Kaspar liked to be left alone at the end of one; which gave me time to sneak into his dressing tent again.
Kaspar was sitting on one of the benches, scooping water from a pail and dousing his face and neck with it.
“You called it,” I said, standing by the post. “Congratulations.”
He grinned at me, his teeth shining in the shadow of the tent. His face was still red and blotchy, water trickling off his nose. He swiped his hand down his face and jumped to his feet.
“It feels good to get the blood pumping again.” He was almost thrumming with energy. His chainmail clinked as he bounced on the spot. “Did you see everyone out there? Just the feeling. The looks on their faces it was... it was just magical.”
And that, dear reader, was the reason for his pompous parade. He did it for his people because that’s what they wanted from him. And Kaspar liked nothing better than to give his people what they wanted.
“And you!” He grabbed me by my upper arms and shook me so hard, if it’d hadn’t had the mind to take off my hat, the rattling of my bells would have surely given us away. “Seeing you out there, it was just like old times at the banquets. You looked so alive!”
“I mean, I know I’m pale but-”
“No. No. You just- you looked so right out there. You belong there. Seeing you performing-” The maniacal look in his eyes calmed as he searched my face. He sighed so hard it expelled all the erratic energy within him and he pressed his hot, wet forehead against mine, “it reminded me why I was so drawn to you.”
His hand came to the back of my neck, pinning us together. Then he kissed me. It was soft at first. The touch made my heart jump to my throat. My hands were on his waist, a reflex to keep him close to me. Like I always knew he was going to be torn away too soon.
I could feel his heart racing against my own. The kiss deepened and he pressed me back against the post. I forgot that we were in a tent with a slowly dissipating crowd outside. I forgot that Franklin was supposed to come in at any moment. I forgot everything.
My hands were in his wet hair, pulling him down to my height so I could kiss him deeper, with more passion, with everything I had in me to give. He pressed me harder into the post. My spine creaked against the wood but I didn’t care. It was just like our first kiss. Back when everything between us was whimsical and carefree.
When he loosened his hold, I felt my body follow him like a flower seeking the sun. Our lips broke contact and my eyes fluttered open. He was looking down at my lips, lost for a second before he sniffed, rubbed his nose and backed away from me. I was standing, being held up by the post alone, the power of the kiss having made me legs unstable. He looked down at his armour then to the front of the tent.
“Franklin will be here soon to help me undress,” he said.
I laughed to myself. “Of course, it’s fine for him to undress you.”
He smiled at me. That sad smile he always gave me right before we had to go back to pretending we were just prince and jester. I waved him goodbye and left.
The wind stung my face as I huddled on a bench in the tournament area. I had actually gone into the tent to grab my clothes before being delightfully side-tracked. The king and the lady were gone now, along with the crowd. All that was left were the guards stationed at Kaspar’s tent, trodden bits of food, flags and churned up mud. Everyone had gone back to their ordinary lives. I hoped their merriment would linger around a little longer. Dropping my head into my hands, I let myself get lost in thought.
“Excuse me.”
I whipped my head up so fast I nearly hit myself in the eye with my bells. My heart did one big thud. Standing before me, addressing me with her eyebrows pinched in embarrassment, was Lady Delphine. I would have turned to check if she was speaking to someone else if I hadn’t been absolutely sure I was in the stand alone.
“Yes?” My eyes widened. “I mean, Your Highness?” Addressing royalty used to be second nature to me, but it was clear I was out of practice. Where were my manners?
She smiled, clearly finding my fumbling entertaining. But not in a mocking way. She actually seemed comforted by my clumsiness.
“If you’re looking for the prince, I think he’s still in the tent,” I said, feeling like every word was tainted. I’d never spoken to the lady before. Had never been this close to her. In fact, it surprised me that I’d never really considered her to be a real person until right then. Even while I was performing for her, I only saw her as someone I needed approval from. It hit me at this moment why exactly I was had been trying so hard.
“Actually, I am here to talk to you. May I speak with you in private?”
This time, I did take a quick scan around. She wanted to talk to me? What? What was happening?!
She laughed softly. “Wallace. May I call you, Wallace?”
I gulped and nodded, my bells jingling erratically. “Of course.” I gestured for her to take a seat in the row before me like the stand was my home and then I felt utterly ridiculous. But she smiled politely, collected her beautiful skirts and lowered herself onto the wooden bench.
“Or we could go somewhere else if you prefer?” I blurted out. I had no idea what I was doing.
“Here is fine,” she replied, still smiling at me. There was a softness in her deep brown eyes that made me think she found me quite endearing. Like I was a fawn in the woods separated from its mother.
There was a delicateness to her beauty. Her dark hair and eyes against her ivory skin made her look almost doll-like. But, where my paleness had me looking like a sick patient, the hue of her skin was almost iridescent.
I nodded. A silence followed. Her easy smile pinched in the corners as if pained.
“It appears that Kaspar is quite fond of you.”
I think my lunch nearly came back up. A nervous laugh escaped me.
“What?” I cleared my throat. “I mean, what do you mean? I wouldn’t say fond of me. He likes my work, I guess.”
The arch of her eyebrow and the withered look she sent me said it all. I shut up.
She knew. Oh Lord, she knew everything. This was it. This was the end. She was going to tell King Cedric. I was going to be executed. Why was she here? To mock me? To get me to beg and plead for her forgiveness?
Her smile faded and her eyes clouded with sadness. She was a young woman, a similar age to me, but as I gazed at her, her skin shining in the sunlight, she looked like a lost child.
“Prince Kaspar does not love me.” The statement was so blunt that the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “It is obvious he loves another.” The pointed look she then struck me with made my body flush hot then shivering cold. This woman could say so much with just her eyes, it was incredible.
I opened my mouth to speak but she held up her palm. I was honestly glad for the interruption- to this day I know if I had been left to my own devices I would have dug my own grave.
“But I want to be a good wife to him. For the sake of the kingdom.” She looked down at her lap. “We have been met with difficult times.” At this, my jaw clenched. As if sensing my hostility, her eyes met mine once more. Hard and steely. “Do you know why?”
“I know people are struggling,” was all I could say. I wanted to ask what was happening. I wanted to ask what the palace was hiding. But just like with Kaspar in the tent I didn’t want to play with an already delicate situation.
She nodded stiffly. “Kalmador is my home just as much as it is yours.” She studied me for a moment, her gaze never leaving my face, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. The puzzle of mine and Kaspar’s relationship? “That is why I come to you now. As your princess, I require your assistance.”
I gulped. Was she toying with me?
“I have tried to be what Kaspar wants in a partner but the truth is... I do not know the man. I do not expect him to fall in love with me, but we must be a united front for our people.”
My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t realised I had been sitting so stiffly.
“You know him better than I. Possibly better than anyone.” She shuffled uncomfortably, gathering her skirts and smoothing them over her lap. “Would you please tell me about the man I married?”
I blinked. “I’m not sure I understand, Your Highness.”
“His likes. His dislikes.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I sound like a child with a crush.”
My heart swelled as I watched her looking about us, anywhere but at me. There was a shimmer in her eyes now. A collection of tears she refused to shed.
“You sound like someone Kaspar will be proud to have by his side.”
Her gaze struck me. Colour rose to her cheeks, “Really?”
I smiled. “You share Kaspar’s values. And the fact that you are here, asking for advice from a fool tells me that you are not prideful.” She blushed harder. “Kaspar likes that his title means that he can help the kingdom, but I’m sure if he had not been born royal, he’d be just as content being a stable boy.”
“A stable boy?” She laughed. The sound was sweet and delicate. It made my heart swell a little.
“He loves his horses. If you want a way to get to his heart, it’s though his stallion, Bucky.”
She nodded so deep that if she had lifted her skirt it would have been a courtesy. She seemed to catch herself and quickly straightened. “Thank you, Wallace. I appreciate you speaking with me. I have very much enjoyed our conversation.”
“Absolutely. Likewise. You’re welcome, Your Highness.” That just sounded like a jumble of words. Idiot.
A smile split her lovely face. Thin lips lining perfect, royal teeth.
“Your act was very entertaining. I hope I get a chance to watch you perform again.”
Heat rose to my cheeks and I batted away the compliment like a bashful damsel.
“It was nice meeting you.” She picked herself up.
I nodded and bumbled out another ‘likewise,’ as she walked across the arena, the soft sway of her hips making her skirts swish about her ankles. She paused before Kaspar’s dressing tent but then seemed to change her mind and continued toward the palace, seemingly acutely aware of the two guards slipping into a step behind her.
I was alone again, gazing over at the tent where I had just kissed her husband. The backs of my eyes burned. Once again, my lunch made itself known. I gulped hard, swallowing it back down. My motley suddenly felt stuffy in the heat. I took off my hat and threw it to the ground before dropping my head in my hands and grabbing two fistfuls of hair.
“What are you doing?” I whispered to myself, letting the tears finally fall.