Page 7 of The King's Bodyguard
The purple and black livery I wore forestalled any comment. The grizzled, white-haired Sunna fruit seller grunted as he palmed my coin. He muttered something about northerners and turned to serve a plump matron who was carefully picking through his produce. I didn’t wait to watch the inevitable haggling match that would ensue.
Instead, I continued on my way up the hill toward the royal palace walls. My gaze scanned the walls and the windows of the keep. There was no sign of any royal entourage. Landis wasn’t inspecting the walls today. Perhaps he was in meetings.
As if on cue, shouts rose behind me. I turned in time to see a stately set of four horses drawing a sumptuously swathed andcarved black, purple, and red carriage. The royal carriage, no doubt bearing King Landis from whatever meetings he had been attending earlier in the day. It was attempting to make its brisk way up the street, but the crowds parted reluctantly. Clearly, many of Rimefrost’s citizens were excited to see their young king.
The horses slowed to a standstill, and I could see a golden head of curls pop out.Landis.My heart skipped a beat, and then I caught myself frowning.Where was his guard? Had they fallen behind?Instantly, I looked about, concerned about Landis’s safety. Two soldiers on horseback loped behind the carriage, and another had been stationed by the coach hand.
Shouts and cheers rose, and the carriage was finally able to move forward at a crawl. I bit down into the red apple and munched thoughtfully as I watched King Landis’s carriage slowly make its way up the hill. Behind me, crowds of stall owners, matrons, young misses, boisterous lads, and stalwart laborers pushed forward. I found myself reluctantly quite close to the oncoming horses.
Beside me, three young ladies were shrieking. My ears instinctively flattened, and I grimaced as the sound of cheers and sharp whistles burst out on the early autumn breeze. One young lady, no doubt overly enthused by her appreciation of a certain pair of blue eyes, was on the verge of fainting.
King Landis waved cheerfully. He had probably realized that some interaction with the crowd was necessary in order to arrive home in a timely manner. At the sight of me, his jaunty wave faltered a little. His blue gaze zeroed in on my, no doubt, stoic expression of distaste. As Landis passed by, I could see that there was a slight blush on his face as though he were mortified to be caught by me enjoying the praise of his people. I shot him a reassuring grin. Landis’s blue eyes lightened with relief, and hislips twitched in amusement as the young lady beside me began to collapse into my arms.
Suddenly distracted by the armful of a young miss, I realized I had to figure out how to extract myself from a rather compromising situation. After all, most citizens of Rimefrost might be more than willing to attribute the worst intentions to a Munni caught manhandling a young lady.
“Oh, Betsie,” one of the girl’s friends gasped in clear shock. “Mama! Betsie has taken ill!”
“Perhaps the sun got to her finally,” said the other friend, clearly jealous about the attention Betsie was getting. “Or the night air.”
“Ex-cuse me,” breathed a matron, suddenly appearing at my elbow. “I apologize, ser, for the inconvenience.”
I glanced beyond the molly to her silent husband who glared at me disapprovingly from behind his wife. Quickly, I shifted my hold on the girl’s armpits and proceeded to push her toward the husband.
“I believe your good husband would prefer to attend to the girl,” I said succinctly. “I must away to the castle.”
Ensuring the gentlecat had a firm grasp on the wilting molly, I extricated myself from the crowd and followed after the carriage. Entering the castle, I noticed that, as I expected, the King’s horses were already being untied from the carriage traces. There was no sign of Landis.
“Hey, you,” a voice stopped me in my tracks.
I turned at the sound of the grumpy voice. It was Ser Anderson, one of the older knights. He seemed to have a grudge against all Munni and had already developed a habit of lording it over us lower guards. I kept my posture relaxed as I answered his call.
“Ralf, is it?” He asked.
“Corrin Stonewarden, ser,” I blandly corrected him for the tenth time.
“Up early, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ser,” I said.
Most Munni preferred to rise around the seventh bell, but today I had woken feeling more rested than usual and had ventured out. My mistake, apparently.
“Seeing the sights, I suppose?” Anderson frowned.
“I went out to break my fast, ser,” I said, wondering why I had to justify a stroll around the capital of my own country.
“Harumph,” he said and then added something under his breath about northern spies. “Lord Morne warned me about you...”
Lord Morne, what?I raised a single eyebrow in disbelief. Lord Morne was already proving himself to be an annoyance. He had managed to hoodwink the court and pretend to be a courtly gentlecat, but I knew better. The few times I had seen King Landis speak with the catkin, I sensed that the King himself disliked his Royal cousin. I was beginning to see why.
“Ser Stonewarden,” a voice interjected.
I turned and realized with relief that our commander, Ser Hugh Starr, was fast approaching. Hugh was a deeply tanned, stocky knight with reddish-blonde hair and gold-flecked brown eyes. Like Landis, his tail and ears were shorn close. To the ladies, Hugh’s full lips, scruffy jaw, and well-kept curls were the height of fashion. Beside him, I was no doubt a homely flower.
At his side strode the ever-silent Lord Gareth Wright. Like Landis, Gareth was lightly tanned, but he had been gifted chestnut-colored hair, chocolate-brown eyes, and an aristocratic mien. He was easy on the eyes, for toms and mollies alike, with his high cheekbones, thin lips, and sharply angled eyebrows.
Both gentlecats glanced at Anderson. Hugh raised an eyebrow. Gareth’s lips thinned. Melting like snow on a summer’s day, Anderson slunk off.
“Was Anderson bothering you again?” asked Hugh, setting his hands on his hips and shooting a glare in Anderson’s direction again.
