Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

ROLAND

What on earth could be taking the girl so long?

Perhaps sending Finn had been a bad idea.

Roland had thought she wouldn't completely ignore him as she had all of the other messages he had sent. And it would give Finn time to explain what was about to happen. He owed the boy that much, surely.

He was half thinking about going to Wren's quarters himself and giving her a piece of his mind about manners when a soft knock sounded on the door.

‘Enter,' he barked.

And there she was.

His daughter. The one he had never known existed. And now the heir to the throne, through no fault of her own, a role for which she was totally unprepared.

They had done their best to make her presentable, the ladies-in-waiting, but he could see clearly that she still delighted in defying them. Her hair was a case in point, ragged and cut short. She refused to wear anything on her head, beyond a ribbon.

Lynette had told him all about it. At length. With far too many details. And Yvain had done nothing to intervene as his wife complained.

‘Better you hear it than I do,' his friend said, when Roland looked to him for aid.

And though it might have all the makings of a nightmare, of a constant political headache, Roland couldn't help but feel proud of her. She was standing her ground as best she could, he supposed.

There was no sign of Finn. Maybe he was waiting outside. Roland had told him to take his summons to her, make sure she read it and to bring her back here, no matter how long it took. And it had indeed taken a very long time. He hadn't said that his ward needed to be in the room as well while Roland explained everything to her.

It was probably better this way.

She didn't look upset. She must have taken some time to compose herself when Finnian told her he had to leave the palace. Maybe that explained the time it had taken. Hopefully, no more would be said about it. If she had come in here in tears, or demanding that he change the plans, he wasn't quite sure what he would do. There was no way he could alter anything now.

‘What can I do for you, Grandmaster?' Wren asked, taking the seat he offered. She had Elodie's way of making even the grandest title sound small. It used to amuse him, he recalled.

It was a lot less amusing in the mouth of his daughter.

But still, she seemed fine. Calm. That was good.

‘I've reached a decision which will affect you,' he said, deciding there was no point in beating about the bush.

‘Affect me how?' Wren asked, instantly suspicious. Rightly so. At least she had some instincts that might allow her to survive at this wretched court. She would need to develop a thicker skin though. And be less transparent.

‘Combat training. You will begin tomorrow morning. After breakfast, two of my finest knights will begin your instruction in weaponry.'

She was staring at him like he had suggested she learn to walk through fire. ‘Weaponry? They're going to teach me how to fight?'

‘Well… yes.'

To his surprise, she was on her feet in an instant, her eyes shining, with a smile like a child given gifts for her nameday. ‘I won't let you down. You won't regret this.'

Roland sat back in his chair, studying her carefully. She was delighted. Not what he had expected from her at all. Young women weren't meant to wield swords. Yet Wren did not like much of what the ladies in the palace did instead. And Elodie had trained, of course, but the court was a different place these days. Ylena didn't approve, preferring more dignified lessons for her women.

Wren was an unexpected puzzle. ‘You want to learn how to fight?'

She stared at him as if he had grown an extra head. ‘Of course I do. I was useless in the forest. If I hadn't had some measure of magic and knowledge of it from Elodie I would have been…'

Magic. He hadn't heard her admit to its use before. Not in so many words. Well, he had known that much. She had lit the sky on fire with it, called up the light of the Aurum and sent it flowing through each of the knights. She had saved Finn. That was the way she would fight. Didn't she realise that?

But the moment she said it out loud, her face fell and she looked truly appalled that she had admitted as much to him. Slowly, she dropped back into the chair.

‘I mean…' she tried to begin. Words failed her.

Roland leaned forward, still examining the minute changes in her expression, the way she betrayed herself. She was afraid of her abilities, he realised. Or rather, afraid of what she could do with them.

Understandable. And probably wise.

‘You are Elodie's daughter,' he told her in that calm voice he used with new recruits, or men shaken apart by the worst excesses of war. ‘Of course magic comes naturally to you. But you are also my child, so I hope the sword will as well. Magic is not the answer to everything and it can be fickle. A sword, less so.' It was the smallest kindness. Admitting their relationship was risky in public, though everyone knew it. And besides, if anything happened to her when he had the means to give her another way to defend herself, he'd never forgive himself. It was bad enough he was already sending away the one man she trusted above all others.

‘I'll…I'll try my best.'

He didn't doubt that. Not for a moment. She didn't strike him as lazy or careless in anything she did. Young, yes, but not a child. Not anymore. He felt a surprising stab of pain at not having known her as a little girl. His little girl.

Now, she was a woman, in her own right. She had held off the Ilanthians, and whatever they had called down to destroy her and Elodie. She was powerful.

And she had saved Finn.

Speaking of whom…

Finn hadn't told her. Her joy and openness told Roland as much. Roland guessed that he wouldn't have been able to. Which left him with the dubious honour. Wren might be delighted now, and he wanted to savour that. She was going to hate him again in a few minutes.

‘The knights who will instruct you have also been charged to form a protective guard for you. You know Anselm Tarryn already, and Olivier Arrenden is no less a knight. They have been brothers-in-arms since they first became squires. I hope that the bonds of comradeship and brotherhood will?—'

‘You want me to be their brother?' She smiled as she said it. It was the first time he thought he had ever seen her smile in actual amusement or make a joke. He schooled his face to stone. This was serious.

‘No. I expect you to be their princess.'

She glanced over her shoulder, couldn't help herself.

So, Finn was definitely waiting outside. Roland would have had to be a blind fool to not see the affection between the two of them, more than affection in fact. He didn't need to encourage it. But at the same time, Finn would do anything to protect Wren. He would encourage the others to do the same. She would wrap them all around those little fingers of hers, exactly the way Elodie had when they were the same age.

‘Anselm and Olivier will be in command of this new unit. They will choose your guards, see to their rotation and…Wren, you will obey them. Their word is mine.'

Her smile twisted a little, as if she was trying to hold back a laugh. She was far too like her mother. Trouble. It shouldn't charm him the way it did.

‘I see,' was all she said. That didn't sound like agreement, not really. Roland struggled not to give a growl of frustration.

‘I mean it,' he told her. ‘It could save your life one day. And theirs. They would die for you, each of them. Don't waste that.'

The seriousness of the statement reached her and the smile faded. ‘Yes, I-I really do see.'

Her reply was solemn, and humble. That was good. That was necessary. She understood the weight of this. He couldn't put it off much longer. He needed to tell her about his plans for Finnian as well.

‘I saw her today,' Wren cut in before he could say anything else. The words stole all sense from him.

‘Elodie?' He blurted out her name, or rather the name he had always used for her in his heart of hearts. The name she had chosen to go by when she fled with Wren. That meant something as well, but he couldn't put a label to it. Elodie blamed him, loathed him, was rightly furious with him for bringing her back here and putting their daughter in danger. For putting his duty to the Aurum and the crown first.

‘Yes. She…she's so sad, Roland.' She paused after using his name and he realised she had never used it before, not to his face anyway. It hung strangely on her tongue, like she was testing it out. When he didn't correct her, she drew in a breath, blinked and went on. ‘They'll find her innocent, in this trial, won't they? They have to.'

He could lie, tell her everything would be all right, that Elodie would win through this like she had won through everything else in her life. But he wasn't so sure himself. There were people in this city who hated her.

Those who loved her too, but…she had made enemies. Too many of them.

He didn't have an answer. His usual self-assurance, all the ways he had cultivated his stony exterior, failed him.

‘I…I hope so.' It sounded weak and helpless, something he had never allowed another soul to hear since she had left.

Wren stared at him in horror. ‘You won't let anything happen to her, though. Will you? You can't.' He glanced away, aware of a sharp pain in his chest which should not be there. ‘Roland!'

The snap of his name made him look back. Her outrage shamed him. ‘I…I'll do what I can. I'll speak for her, stand for her. But I can't predict what will happen. I don't want to make false promises to you, Wren. The Aurum will judge her, and then the maidens, and finally the council will resolve her fate. I'm just one man. I have duties and responsibilities. The law must apply to all of us equally, Wren. Even Elodie.'

‘You are the law here, aren't you?'

Was that what she believed?

He shook his head. ‘I'm its servant. That's how it has to be.'

‘I thought you loved her.'

It was no more than a whisper but it sounded so loud in his head, cutting into him like a hot blade.

He drew in a breath, fought the screaming in the back of his mind and the urge to throw her bodily from the room, and let the air out again in a long slow hiss. ‘That was a lifetime ago.'

Wren had started to rise from the chair, and froze there, staring at him. No, at his hands.

They were clenched into fists on his desk, his blunt nails biting into the palms. This wouldn't do. He couldn't lose control like this. Not here, not in front of this…this girl…Carefully, he uncurled them.

He ground out more words, hardly caring what they were. He needed her to leave. Finn could break the bad news to her himself. He should have done it to begin with. This was not Roland's place. She hated him anyway. Why allow anything to make that worse? ‘Now, if you are finished?—'

But it was far too late. She was afraid of him. And like any creature afraid, she was testing him to see when he would turn on her. His own daughter was afraid of him.

And why not? He had shown her no gentleness. He didn't know how to. He had captured her mother and brought her to trial, back in the last place either of them wanted to be. Who knew what lies Elodie had filled her head with?

It struck him then that she wasn't just afraid. She was terrified. Of him, of this place, of what would happen to Elodie, and to herself. Of everything. Oh, she tried to hide it, behind bravado and impudence, but he'd seen that too many times. Finn had been the same when he'd first come here. And clearly, his ward could still be defiant.

Why couldn't he simply obey a direct order when it came to Wren?

‘Wren—' Roland began, schooling his face to a calm he didn't feel. Why did she have to make everything so complicated and his temper so unstable?

Because Elodie had taught her. That was why.

His breath turned to fog in front of his face as the air chilled all around them, the temperature plummeting in an instant. The room darkened, light draining away as shadows rose from the corners and the floor, sliding up the walls like water.

Shadow kin.

He knew them, knew their touch and their scent. He had destroyed enough of them to last a lifetime. How were they here, in his study, a place warded and guarded by the magic of the maidens, the very stones touched by the Aurum?

Roland rose, his fears and doubts forgotten. He had one role, one purpose, to protect the blood royal of Asteroth. Wren turned, facing this new threat, putting herself instantly in danger.

With a fluid motion he drew his sword, Nightbreaker. A grandiose name for what was really a simple tool like any other. But it was the sword of the Grandmaster of the Knights of the Aurum, forged long ago by the maidens in the sacred flames, and created to defend against just such darkness. It glowed now with its inner magical light in the darkening room.

‘Get behind me, Wren,' he told her, his arm already reaching out to shield her. She glanced at him, her expression startled, and he moved before she could, putting himself between her and the shadow kin as best he could. He needed to raise the alarm. There were others, outside the door. Finnian for one, a knight who was more than half a Paladin if the events at Knightsford were anything to go by. He'd protect the girl. Roland knew that. Finn was already as in love with her as Roland had ever been with Elodie. ‘When I move, I need you to run for the door, understand? Finn is out there. Get help. Tell me you understand.'

He needed her to say it. He couldn't risk looking at her for a nod or anything like that. To take his attention away from the shadow kin was to invite disaster. He knew that better than anyone.

‘I understand,' she said, and her voice didn't shake. Her attention was entirely fixed, and focused on the threat before them. Like a warrior facing battle. ‘But they shouldn't be here. They…they can't be here. Why won't they go away, Roland?'

‘What do you mean?' There wasn't time for this. They were coming closer, almost as if they were toying with him. Stalking him like cats with their prey.

‘I can't…I can't explain…'

Strain entered her voice, a hint of pain, and he turned, just for a moment, concern surmounting caution.

The shadows pounced.