Page 23 of The Man with the Violet Eyes

Nicolo nodded. “Charlotte. Bring our clothes.”

Back through the castle we went, bodyguards in tow, this time heading for the Court Gardens. It was nice to enter through the gate, rather than scaling the wall. Not to mention, the gardens were utterly beautiful on a bright day like this.

Dotted about were a few members of the court; elderly matrons out for a stroll with a cloud of white dogs yapping at their feet and a spattering of anxious maids hovering behind; proud young men practicing their sword skills and apparently keen that everyone see them do so; overweight, middle-aged nobles looking for a bit of peace from the wife and children; courting couples, half-hidden by blossoming trees, carrying out clandestine meetings, lost in each other’s arms. The Court Gardens were big enough to accommodate all these and more without anyone disturbing anyone else.

Nicolo and Balduin chatted amiably as we walked.

“So, you’ll speak to Wylder?” asked Nicolo.

Balduin sighed. “What does the old fool want now?”

“He’s not happy.”

“He’s never happy and it’s not my job to make him happy.”

“But it will be your job eventually, Balduin,” pointed out Nicolo. “Wylder wants a better relationship with his future monarch.”

“No, he damned well doesn’t,” snorted Balduin. “He wants his future monarch to be someone other than me, or he wants me to behave more like the monarchhewants. Well... damn the man! I am who I am and I’m not going to change when they put a crown on my head. He can stick his talk of ‘regal dignity’ up his droopy, old, pimpled ass.”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. Balduin glanced back at me and smiled even more broadly before turning back to face Nicolo. “Your squire has a good sense of humor, it seems.”

“Charlotte!” Nicolo faced me with an angry expression and I immediately lost the smile on my face.

“Oh, don’t reprimand her, Nicolo.”

“Back to Wylder,” said Nicolo, dryly.

“Can’t we set him up with a nice young woman and get his thoughts off me?”

“He’s married.”

“A nice youngmistressthen,” shrugged Balduin. “If he were mounting someone attractive and doing so more often, he might spend less time complaining about me.”

“Balduin—”

“It’s all jealousy anyway,” Balduin continued, shaking his head. “And if we get the right woman for him—someone young and quite active, in good shape, perhaps she could ride him into a heart attack.”

“He’s only forty-five.”

“I can think of a couple of maids who’d fit the bill.”

“That’s not the—”

“Getting a handsome maid onto her back might get him off mine, Nicolo, and that is the point.”

“You need to speak to him,” Nicolo pressed.

“Can’t you do it in my stead?”

“He’ll interpret that as an insult.”

“Good.”

The conversation appeared to be over when we reached a quiet spot on one of the lawns where a circle had been painted onto the grass.

“Will your squire referee?” suggested Balduin.

“Hardly fair on her first day to make her judge between her master and her prince.”

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