Page 3 of The King's Bodyguard
That was long ago, though. We had both been young then when titles and positions had not separated us. He had only been eight winters old. I had been ten. Still, we discovered a shared love of exploration, of tree-climbing, of apple stealing.
That was then, I reminded myself.This is now. He might not remember anything. After all, we only played together for the space of a summer. After that, I was whisked away by Mother, and I never returned. He is Prince—King—Landis now. And I’m just another guard.
Yes. There it was. The voice of commonsense. It sounded like my mother. As a Seeress, my mother had quite a few opinions on matters of the state and the affairs of Sumarene. She was the one who had arranged for me to take a position in the Royal Guard when Lord Elthorne requested specific Munni recruits for the King’s personal guard.
“It’s a show of respect and unity,” Mother had said. “Nothing more, Corrin. You would do well to remember that. When you arrive, you will find few friends waiting for you there.”
“Prince Landis...” I had tentatively said.
I remembered the golden glint of his hair and his sky blue eyes. Even more, I remembered his laughter, when I was able to chase away the sadness within him. Forgetting Landis was impossible.
”—is a king now,“ she had finished my sentence with a certain finality. Then, her blue-green eyes had softened, and she leaned forward to pinch me hard on the chin. “But perhaps you will find yourself a place even within the hard walls of Rimefrost. There is a hidden garden there, neglected, I fancy, that needs tending. As a child of the Moon Mother and the Goddess of Love, you will, I hope, rise to the occasion.”
I always hated it when my mother spoke in riddles. It was her job, I knew. As a Seeress of Velamere and Matriarch of our tribe, her words had kept us safe through the years of war and poverty.
When I was a young child, she had forged begun to forge new bonds with Landis’s father, King Lansson, in an attempt to bridge the divide between the catfolk of the night and those of the day. Walking with the gods, my mother would on occasion be gifted with an oracle. She had been told by the Goddess of Fate herself that there was hope for our land.
Oracles, I grimaced. Father would have bristled at my mother’s words. He would have gotten defensive. Derisive. Dismissive. I tried to listen, but it was hard. Her riddles were as slippery as eels, elusive to catch the meaning. It would drive any kin to drink.Besides, it’s not like she’s thinking about you, Corrin, I reminded myself.Her eyes are ever fixed on the horizon. Your fate is incidental.
And here I was, as she had hoped and planned, in the heart of the Royal Palace, thoroughly lost. Once upon a time, Landisand I had romped through these halls and played hide and seek within abandoned rooms.
Since then, much had changed. The old halls had been redecorated. New statues, new lamps, new cabinets and drawers. It was difficult to chart my path. Yet, somehow, I had already found the person I had been most curious about.
King Landis. When he collided with me, the prince seemed to be in some sort of turmoil, so I hesitated before turning and slowly following him out of a half-open wooden door. Mother would advise me against getting caught up in the affairs of the state. That is for Seeresses, she’d say. But I had to know.
No doubt he had gotten a head start on me and was long gone. Still, I pushed the door open. My breath caught in my throat at the sight that unfolded before me. An ancient pavement covered by a peristyle upheld by an arched colonnade, decorated with mythical and historical figures. In the center lay a square garden divided by four streams that flowed into a majestically sculpted fountain.
I knew this place. This was one of the gardens that the now-ruling King and I had played in. I lingered at the edge of the path that led down to three oak trees placed strategically by more fragile flowers—blue columbine, violet forget-me-nots, and pale turquoise elandarin. Beyond, a great willow lowered over the streams, drifting its pale green tendrils into the water.
The quiet burble of the streams, the creak of the tree branches, and the rustle of wind through the leaves made me feel right at home. I wasn’t in Rimefrost anymore. I was back home, traveling in the wild woods of Velamere, close by the Grey Mist Mountains. I was in a forgotten nook, a hidden dale, where clusters of elandarin released their cool scent in the breeze of a late summer night.
And in the center of it all, bright as a gold piece, was Landis himself. Today, the young king had dressed in a deep bluesurcoat over a black, silver-trimmed tunic. Belted with silver and black leather, the cloth looked well-pressed and warm for a late summer afternoon. His breeches beneath were also a dark brown-black. Booted in soft black leather trimmed with blue, Landis’s complete outfit screamed wealth.
He looked every bit like a king... if he weren’t drooping on the edge of the fountain like a scared kit. As he had done in the past, Landis huddled in the middle of the garden, vulnerable and unprotected. He had flung himself down as was his wont and drawn up a knee to rest his head, deep in thought. Clearly, he was distraught about something.
I hesitated and drew back, suddenly uncertain. After all, there was no certainty that he would remember me. I was no one, an untutored bumpkin Munni from the distant edges of the kingdom. Instead, I partially stepped back into the shadows, content to watch over him. It was my duty after all.
For a while, I allowed myself to simply observe him. I took note of the only other entrance into the garden, checked the perimeter, and assured myself that the king was safe, if unattended. Then, I returned to watch over him. I couldn’t help but notice how the King’s ears had flattened down, a sure sign of sadness. His tail hung limply off the edge of the stone fountain. A veritable picture of dejection.
As if reading my mind, Landis seemed to collect himself. He drew in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, wiped his eyes, and turned.
“Prince Landis?” I blurted out, not wishing to surprise him with my presence.
At the sound of his name, Landis looked up. For a moment, there was a furrow between his dark gold eyebrows, but then Landis relaxed as he surveyed me from head to foot. There was a self-conscious edge to his put-upon poise as king. It made me want to chuckle a little, but I refrained. While Landis looked meover, I took the opportunity to come to grips with the changes time had wrought in my friend.
Unlike other catkin, Landis was slighter in build and thinly muscled. He was taller now, but he remained a head shorter than me. Landis had grown into a well-bred young tom. His coloring was undoubtedly Royal—tan skin with the traditional golden hair falling in large curls about his neck. His ears and tail matched in color, trimmed to perfection, unlike my own scruffier tail. The set of his cheekbones, the firm edge of his jawline, and the severe line of his nose proclaimed his royal heritage as King Lansson’s issue. But it was his brilliant, gem-like blue eyes edged with the silver of tears that drew my gaze. Those, and the soft swell of his lips that parted a little as he stared at me in disbelief.
“Cor-Corrin?”
At the sound of my name on his tongue, I couldn’t help but smile with relief.
“The one and the same,” I said.
It came out a bit more cocky than I had hoped. Mentally, I could see my mother and father cuffing me on the back of the head. I stepped forward and knelt on one knee, bowing my head even as Landis approached.
“Apologies, my King,” I added. “I forgot my place.”
“No,” Landis said. There was a silvery edge to his voice that spoke of a thousand feelings, few that I dared to name. “All is forgiven. I had not expected—I did not—I mean, please, rise, Corrin.”
