Page 70 of The Queen's Line
"Daniel and I will speak to the farmers and choose a date for the festival once the fields are cleared," Lady Prudence said.
"Before the harvest!" Princess Bryony sat up abruptly in her seat, blushing a little and pressing her lips together before continuing. "I think…I think it might be nice if it were before. Like a good luck charm."
"Before then," Lady Prudence said with an indulgent smile, turning to me. "We'll work quickly."
"At Your Highness's pleasure," I said, bending in my seat and then preparing to stand.
"Stay, we've interrupted your breakfast. You deserve a share of ours," the princess said.
It was sweetly spoken, although delivered in equal share to Lady Prudence, and I wasn't sure if I should take her in earnest or not.You should charm her, Lord Roderick's voice hissed. But with a quick survey around the table, seeing the suspicion on the Chosen's face, and Lady Prudence helping herself to a cup of tea that had clearly been set out for her long before my arrival, I shook my head.
"I'll ride out and look for a suitable location," I said. "The start of the harvest season isn't far from now. Better to begin now. Your Highness.” I bowed as I stood and heard the soft hum of acknowledgement.
There would be time to try and seduce her soon. She'd made it clear that she didn't trust the council, and the best remedy might be to go about the actual work of being a steward.
Besides, it was the only part of this arrangement with the council I actually liked.
* * *
Three days back and forth,up and down the mountain, and the festival was set for two weeks away. It would still feel like summer in the fields, but Princess Bryony would fall out of her small favor if she asked the farmers todelaythe harvests.
I saw her in brief moments, and usually in the company of Lady Prudence: with the announcement that I'd found a village commons that was central and could host the festivities, to tell her that a local leader had been more than happy to take up the organization of vendors who were piling up quickly now that the word was out, to inform her that her particularly requested private tents would be prepared.
Every visit involved waiting outside a door under the glowering stare of the Head of the Royal Guard, before being admitted in to find a rumpled princess and a disheveled man. But it was only ever Owen or Cosmo, which would be an interesting fact to share with Jonathon later.
I marched now toward the training room, smirking slightly at the guard's dark stare at my approach. He and I should've been friends, I thought. He looked like someone's bastard too, although probably not one who would get to inherit his father's estate. Not that mine had been worth anything but a title no one felt the need to grant me.
I heard the grunts from within the room first, not unfamiliar, but then an unexpected crash of metal on metal. My steps nearly stumbled as the guard opened the door to me rather than making me wait, and my eyes widened as I took in the scene inside.
Not love-making but sword-fighting. I stared, paused in the doorway, as I watched Princess Bryony snarl and swing a sword in Prince Thao's direction, his own quick to block her blade. The weapons were unfamiliar, longer and broader than a Kimmerian fencing sword, and their fighting was more fluid in movement.
Well, Thao was fluid. Bryony stumbled back at the force of contact, a gasp on the air, before quickly going into an attack again. The difference was clear between them, Bryony was fast and aggressive, but her face was red with exertion and she was sweating and slowing, while Thao moved only when he needed to, efficient and graceful. With her next strike, Thao caught the crook of her arm with his, swinging her around until her back hit his chest with an audibleoofand the flat side of his blade rested against her throat.
"You're moving too much, wasting energy," Thao said.
"If I don't move, and you don't move, are we really sparring?" Bryony asked tartly, breaths gasping.
I fought myself, but Thao only laughed. They were close, and they seemed comfortable with one another's bodies, but also uncertain of each other. Thao lowered his own sword slowly, and Bryony's head turned in his direction.
She saw me first, and stepped away.
"Mr. Farraque," she said, and I fought the urge to glare. It was what she always called me, her and everyone else.
"Daniel, please, Your Highness," I said, bowing for her.
Thao whispered something, too quiet for me to hear, but I understood the meaning as Bryony shook her head.
"No, go on. I'm fine."
Thao nodded and sheathed his sword, swinging the harness over his shoulder and heading for the exit with a cursory glare in my direction.
"What did you need?" she asked, rolling her shoulders.
She was wearing fencing pants and what must've been a shirt from one of her Chosen, and it was a curiously tempting sight. I knew two kinds of women mainly. The gentlemen's daughters who wanted me whispering filth in their ear but never their beds, and the whores my father had introduced me to to slake my appetites. This princess was an entirely foreign creature from what I'd seen so far.
"I need nothing but to serve you, Your Highness," I offered, painting on a smile as I approached her. "I only came to say that the word is out in the villages and the festival is already considered to be a success."
Her brows raised. "A success? It's still weeks away."