Page 16 of Untouched Queen by Royal Command

CHAPTER THREE

ITTOOKSERA two days to organise the midwinter ball. The guest list had already been prepared by Moriana, formerly of Arun and now Queen Consort to the King of Liesendaach. Her Royal Highness Moriana had returned Sera’s call promptly and approved the additional guests Sera had put forward for the express purpose of finding Augustus a wife. Invitations had gone out. The palace staff were happy for someone—anyone—to take the helm and direct the preparations. The ball was an annual event and they were well trained and competent.

After that, there was a dinner for twelve to organise, and then an informal supper for thirty in one of the smaller palace libraries. Moriana had phoned Sera about the library event guest list several times already and once to discuss what books would go on display in the library given the handful of historians on the guest list. Moriana had asked if there were any books belonging to the courtesans of the High Reaches that Sera could put on display.

At that, Sera had hesitated. Some books could be displayed without controversy, but not all. The journals of the courtesans of old were fascinating, but they weren’t for public viewing.

Augustus had not been back. No other visitors had called on her and her guards had been incorporated into the regular ranks of the palace, although she still met with them for morning exercise. They met in the horse yard behind the stables, where the sawdust on the ground was sweet and soft. They’d thought it out of the way enough that they wouldn’t bother anyone. Three days in and already they had a growing audience for the martial arts patterns they completed in unison and the sparring that came afterwards. Give it another week and the requests for lessons would start. She could see the hunger for more in the eyes of those watching. The curiosity, reluctant admiration, and sometimes the heat.

Always the heat.

Aware of the restlessness riding her, Sera pushed her body hard during morning exercise, as comfortable as she could be with the hot eyes of the crowd, the sun weak and watery and a chill in the air that reminded her of the mountains.

When she met the ground for the third time because of inattention, Ari, the guardsman who’d put her there, stepped back and disengaged from their sparring. She wasn’t easy to take down, and this time the kick to her sternum would have broken bones if she hadn’t deflected the blow at the last minute. Ari had expected far better from her. She wasn’t concentrating.

She lay there, eyes closed and reluctant to take a breath because when she did it was going to hurt. She felt rather than saw someone crouch down beside her and, quick as a snake, she clamped her hand around their wrist as they went to touch her torso.

‘Easy.’

She opened her eyes to slits and studied the forearm she’d captured. It was tanned and corded with muscle, the hand looked strong and the fingernails blunt. She looked for a face to match the hand but the sun was directly in her line of sight. It wouldn’t be Ari or Tun; they knew better than to offer to help her up. It might be someone from the audience who didn’t understand the limits she lived by.

She moved just enough to let the man’s body block the sun, the better to see his face.

Augustus.

She took in a breath and pain didn’t slice at her. She eased into a sitting position and didn’t pass out. Good news.

‘You went down pretty hard,’ he said gruffly.

‘My own fault,’ she murmured, and let go of his arm. He had the right to touch her. She could not refuse.

He stood and held out his hand and slowly, carefully, she put her hand in his and let him help her up.

His hand was more calloused than she’d been expecting from a man who did no physical work. Her hand looked tiny clasped in his. His dark eyes showed no emotion.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked.

‘I live here. And when rumour reaches me that half my security force is turning up on their days off to watch the northerners beat the living daylights out of each other I get curious.’

Fair enough. She took back her hand and spared a glance for her guards. Only two were here with her; the third was on duty. Neither stepped forward, although Ari’s fingers flickered a message that hopefully only she could read. Had he injured her?

No.

A silent conversation, meant to set her guardsman at ease.

He didn’t seem convinced.

‘What may we do for you, Your Majesty?’

‘Find somewhere else to practise, for starters. You have half my men-at-arms gagging for a glimpse of you. The other half have already seen you fight and now have a new erotic fantasy to be going on with.’

He wasn’t being fair. ‘Sawdust is soft and the floors in my quarters are too hard for serious sparring. Where else might we practise? We are also open to teaching those of your court who wish to learn the forms and uses they might be put to. Ari is a master. Tun a champion who will soon retreat to the mountains for his final year of meditation before he too becomes a high practitioner of the art.’

‘What grade do you hold?’

‘I hold my own.’

‘You didn’t today.’

---