Chapter 7

After beating her pillow into submission, Kambry let her body relax and her mind drift off into visions of mazes.

She woke up twice from dreams that rehashed Sybil’s warning and lay staring up at a sleep-blurred ceiling. Both times she rolled to her other side and slipped back into sleep. When she woke to sunlight squeezing past the dense curtains, she was gripping her thumb and its silver ring as if she feared someone would take it off.

She sat up and looked about the room. Ridiculous dreams.

The wardrobe had two additional outfits, perfect for shooting a bow at the guards’ range. All guards wore trousers, but she’d seen few women about the castle in them. Yet, there were now two blousy trousers in the wardrobe. She chose a navy-blue one and found it was more a split skirt with the split sewn up than trousers like Lessa wore. If she stood still with her legs together, she might fool a person into thinking it just a very slim skirt. Maybe they were skirts prior to yesterday; that would explain how quickly she received them.

Dressed and ready for breakfast and then practice, she headed out for the mess hall at a quick pace. Lessa caught up with her just as she passed the guard quarters.

“It’s fish for breakfast, chip potatoes and crusty bread,” Lessa said and grabbed Kambry’s elbow. “You, however, will see Marshal Burtram. He has a bow he wants to fit to you before he’s busy with the guards. He has ordered me to have plates ready for you both. He said it won’t take but a couple minutes to determine if the bow will work for you, so your food will be warm. He just didn’t want the broken bits of overcooked fish left in the corners.” She pointed Kambry in the armory’s direction and then dodged into the mess hall. “Come to our table as quick as you can.”

Kambry hastened to the armory, excitement tingling up her arms. When she came to the open doorway, she peeked in.

It was just after dawn, and an oil lamp was burning on a table by the door. It illuminated the center area of the room. Rows of racks made it impossible to see if anyone was in the room or not. “Burty, are you in here?”

“I’m at the back, Kambry,” he called. “Come in.”

She walked by the bows and swords, neatly stowed. An assortment of sharp, impressive weapons hung on the walls. At the back worktables, Burty stood polishing a pale bow with swirls of inlaid darker wood on the riser.

Burty grinned at her surprise when he handed her the bow. “Oh, Burty, this is brand new. I can’t accept such a gift.” He looked at the bow and shook his head. “Far from new,

Miss do Brode. This bow has had heavy use. But it cleaned up nice, didn’t it?”

She shook her head, not believing a word.

“Look, I’ll show you.” He pointed at the string notch at each tip of the bow. “See, somewhat worn, but it still holds the string well enough. And look at the riser here and here. Can you see the duller look to the wood from hands gripping it? I cleaned and waxed it but just can’t get that to shine up like the rest. It could use being refinished, but it will do you fine.” He held it out to her again. “Satisfied?”

She nodded and accepted the bow.

“Now I don’t think there will be any argument over the arrows and this quiver, right?”

She glanced at them and grinned at him. The arrows showed frequent use, and the quiver would be fine as long as she didn’t intend to travel with it. The strap leather’s cracking and stiffness made it unreliable.

“Just don’t carry it by the strap. As for the arrows, they’ll fly true enough.” He pointed to an open space between the racks and the tables. “Go give it a slow pull then let off the pull easy. Never release a bowstring at full pull without an arrow nocked and ready to go.”

She nodded, remembering his previous instructions the day before. She pulled the bow and slowly let off.

“Feel good?” “Wonderful.”

“Most of our boys are too strong for this bow, but it will work for you until you’ve been at it awhile. Let’s put it aside until later and go have some breakfast before it’s cold.”

“Thank you, Burty. This is the loveliest thing anyone has done for me in a long time.”

His round face beamed, and he tipped his chin toward the door. “Fair payment for helping Teddy and Neal until Kip is well enough to come back.”

They entered the mess hall and separated. Lessa had provided full plates for them both as requested. His dish was on the table at the front of the hall.

Fresh proilis blossoms were in the glass jar at their table. She nodded at Neal, and he pointed at Teddy and himself, so she blew them both kisses.

Lessa laughed. “Stop flirting and eat up.”

After breakfast, Kambry spent the morning gathering arrows and practicing her own shooting. Teddy and Neal used the time between retrieving her arrows to pick through the guards’ heavier practice arrows and pull those that needed fletching or repair.

Resting between sets, she joined them at the rickety table where they sorted. “What exactly are you looking for?”

Teddy raised a point and showed her how flattened it was. Another arrow had a broken nock and torn fletching. “If the feathers aren’t smooth, the arrow will fly any which way. The fletcher will fix them, and they’ll fly true.”

Neal, not to be outdone, held out an arrow and shyly ran his finger along a crack that ran nearly the length of the arrow.

“That one is unrepairable,” she said, and he nodded in agreement. “You have a very important job. Guards can’t

practice shooting straight if the arrows don’t fly properly. How often do you go through them?” She looked at the barrels of arrows behind their table. “This must take several hours.”

“We look them over every couple of weeks. We’re fast, but it will take all of what’s left of the morning and most of the afternoon.” He looked at the little they’d sorted so far. “We usually catch the bad ones while we’re retrieving them.”

Neal straightened his shoulders and said, “We’ll help the fletcher at the end of the month if he’s not caught up. He has apprentices, but sometimes he still gets behind.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nah,” said Teddy. “You go back to practice.”

She shot off and on until lunch, then put up her bow and arrows. Lunch was beef and vegetable pie and an apple.

Pleased with the accuracy of her guess regarding the main dish that afternoon, Lessa said, “Just you wait. We’ll have stew tonight.”

There was much yet of the garden to explore, and she took her apple and wandered around the various pathways. Though she saw several of the lords and ladies in the garden, Kambry didn’t run across Clive Konnelby. Uncomfortable with approaching strangers, she wandered alone.

The garden was a maze itself, and she spent an hour finding her way out when the sun had dropped almost to the tall wall around it. Returning to her room, she found a guard waiting by her door.

“Hello,” she said. Her fingers twisted behind her back. Was the garden private? She had noted that nobody on its tended paths were of the working class.

“Miss, Prince Russal has asked that you dine with him this evening. I’ll return to escort you in an hour.” The stiff guard snapped his heels together and marched off before she could reply or ask why she was dining so soon with the prince.

She entered her room, curiosity making her pace slow. Standing in the center of her quarters, she considered the

reasons he might ask for her, but there weren’t any reasons she could come up with. “Well, there’s no getting inside the head of a suspicious prince. I had better get ready.”

She stood at her wardrobe, the two doors open, and considered the work skirts and smocks. She couldn’t wear them to dine with a prince. Her own white dress didn’t seem to fit the style she’d seen other women wear about the castle. The two dresses she had ignored the day before drew her eye. She had already shoved them aside once, but she pulled them away from the side wall of the wardrobe and looked them over. The pale-blue satin dress with delicate white lace standing proud of the neckline seemed appropriate for dining, and it was lovely. The second dress was lavender with a floral stitching of deep purple edging the neckline, and a swath of lace draped from the three-quarter sleeve. Without more than a hand mirror to judge, she decided there was no point in trying them both on. She chose the lavender dress, delighted with its fit even if she couldn’t confirm it looked well on her. It clung in all the right places and was easy to maneuver in.

A knock at her door caught her hopping about, putting on her second boot as she hurried to answer it.

Lessa stood there, her eyebrows raised. “Neal and Teddy will be pleased to see you in a dress to match the flowers.”

“The guard informed me I’m to dine with Prince Russal.” She shrugged at Lessa’s raised eyebrows. “Tell the boys I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for dinner.”

“I will feel awfully silly sitting at that table all by myself. It will be like I’ve usurped the throne. I’ll sit with my squad.”

“You can go in my place if you wish. I’ll happily eat in the mess.”

Lessa raised a finger and wiggled it back and forth. “Oh, no. I’m not walking into that last meal. He’d lop off my head.”

“Really?”

“No, because you are going, and I’m heading for the mess.” She half turned, then faced Kambry again. “Do you need help to the prince’s dining room?”

“A guard is to return shortly and escort me,” said Kambry. “Don’t you have a friend you could invite to the table?”

Lessa’s blush surprised her.

“No, no one. I’ll join my mates at another table and explain to the boys you had another engagement.”

“There is someone,” she said. “Lessa, have I been keeping you from eating with someone special?”

“I said there’s no one, and there isn’t,” she grumped. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Lessa.”

She stomped away. “I said there’s no one.”

Kambry leaned on the doorframe. “Maybe there is, but he doesn’t know it. Hmm.” She closed the door. Brushing her hair used up the remaining time, for as soon as she set the brush down, the guard was knocking at her door, and she pressed her comb in to her hair, smoothed her dress at the waist and opened the door.

The guard said, sighing as if put out, “You may wish to bring a shawl. I’ll wait.”

“Very well.” Grumpy but considerate.

Kambry left the door open and headed back to her wardrobe. She remembered seeing scarves in a drawer, but she didn’t remember which one. With a shrug, she judged it wouldn’t take long as there were only four drawers. The second drawer she opened held several handkerchiefs, shawls, and scarves. Of the two shawls, the cream-colored silk seemed the best match to the dress. She hung it over one arm and proceeded out the door.

The guard remained aloof and guided her without a word to the prince’s closet.

A shiver ran up her back, and not because of any chill. Prince Russal had not been easy to talk to the last time they had sat at his desk.

The guard didn’t knock before opening the door and gesturing her in. The room was empty, the desk as clean as it had been before. The guard stopped at the door and stood stiffly while she sat down and waited.

Prince Russal arrived a few minutes later, giving her a dry look before sending the guard out with an order to shut the door. Relief filled her chest. Her fingers had already gathered the shawl into a mishmash of pleats. If she’d had to wait any longer, she would have left the thing damaged beyond the repair supplied by a little smoothing to set it right.

When he faced her, she jumped to her feet and curtsied, holding the position until he asked her to sit and stepped around his curved desk to take his seat.

“We have a few things to discuss,” he said.

Kambry swallowed, and her fingers began pleating again.

What had she done?

“You’ve been eating your meals in the guards’ mess hall.” “Yes.” Haven’t I already had this conversation?

He folded his hands on the desk. “It’s inappropriate.”

She sighed and sat forward. “Your Highness, I’m the daughter of a carpenter and a weaver. Yet I dine with a prince. I’m a guest, but I have no privileges. I arrived with only the clothes on my back; however, items appear as soon as anyone asks for them. I fit no economic or social station here. Where should I eat? Not with lords and ladies with whom I have nothing in common and no introduction. Not with the servants who would be uncomfortable with someone who chats with their prince. Should I eat with the vendors who line your inner bailey, expect a seat at their family table? Or head down into town and beg for scraps? Is there a special dining room for interlopers considered potential traitors and saboteurs that someone has failed to direct me to?”

All the time she spoke, the prince’s forehead grew more crimped.

“Marshall Burtram has invited me to have my meals in the mess hall,” she said. “Should I have chosen starvation rather

than break bread with your guards?”

The prince rose from his seat and paced the room. He stopped to look at her, and she gave him a thorough examination. He wore black again. Red piping marched along the shoulder and sleeve seams and around the top edge of his standing collar. As before, he wore no crown, just the braids that held his brown hair back from his temples. His blue eyes held no emotion, and she wondered while his stance shouted annoyance. It was as if he chose to appear displeased but could not carry the emotion up to his eyes.

“Your dress is adequate for eating with the lords and ladies of Kavin,” he said at last.

“You can put armor on a donkey; it will not make him a warhorse.”

He turned his back to her and gazed at the ceiling. His shoulders rose as if he was taking a deep breath. After a moment, he turned to face her again, annoyance gone.

“This evening you and I will dine with visiting nobles. I will introduce you and guide you through the social demands.”

She gripped the shawl. “I don’t think you understand. I don’t have the background to mingle with nobles.”

His voice grew hard, and still his eyes gave nothing away. “Then you’ll go as my pet and remain silent.”

Kambry stood, words ready to tumble from her mouth, and she swallowed them down. She closed her eyes and calmed herself, then dropped the crumpled shawl to her seat. Relaxing her jaw muscles, she leveled her gaze at the prince. “We are not communicating well here. I am not a pet. I should not even be dining with you. Just send me home.”

“As soon as you reveal who you truly are, I will send you from Kavin and not one day sooner.”

She sat down, shifting the shawl out of her way. The man is impossible. “How should I betray you?” she whispered. “Tell me how, and I will do it.”

He paced away and stood before one of his bookshelves.

She relaxed her hands upon seeing her fists white at the knuckles. The silver ring, its glow a vivid purple, held her gaze. She ran her finger over the smooth, precious metal. “I forgot to give you your ring back.”

“I know.” He turned. “I think it best if you continue to wear it.”

“So others can know when my intentions are dishonorable?” How long had she been in this room? Ten minutes? She already felt defeated. Kambry folded her hands in her lap. “Your Highness, please let me just…”

“Just what?”

“Just be myself. If I am the traitor you see before you, that will show itself. But dining with you will neither hasten it nor delay it. May I return to my room now? I am not hungry.” She held out her hand, the ring still glowing purple. “See, there are no traitorous intentions attached to my desire to be alone in my room.”

She held his gaze and saw his face pale. A sadness entered his eyes, and she felt compelled to keep their locked gaze as long as he wished.

“Would you dine with me, just me?”

When she didn’t answer right away, he broke eye contact and strode to the end of the short room. His hands clasped behind his back, and he stood quietly.

Kambry waited several minutes. Should she quietly leave or would that be an insult? She chewed her lip. The shawl lay crumpled beside her, and she pulled it into her lap and folded it into a neat square. The silence seemed to seep into her shoulders and grip her shoulder blades. “I will dine with you, just you, Your Highness.” The concession did not ease her shoulders, but he seemed to relax.

“Thank you,” he said but did not turn. Finally, he walked to the door and stopped with his hand on the latch. “I will return in a moment. I must arrange alternative plans for my guests and excuse us from the dining hall.” He stepped from the room and closed the door softly behind him.

Kambry sat back and rested her head on the back of the chair.

She sat up when she heard his step at the door.

Prince Russal wordlessly guided her down the corridor.

The direction was unfamiliar, and the quality of the décor rose the further they went. They came to a stop, and she balked at the ornate door before them, guards at either side. “Your Highness?”

“The dining hall is in use by my guests. We’ll take our meal in privacy on my main balcony.”

His private balcony? Her voice squeaked. “There are many rooms in this castle. Surely one could suffice.”

The guards appeared to ignore their discussion, but Kambry wondered what they thought of her discomfort after having walked with the prince this far.

“This is more convenient for the servants than asking for another room. I often eat in my chambers, and they are prepared for that. A guard will be with us.” He nodded at the man on the right who opened the door and stepped inside.

Prince Russal took her hand, and Kambry followed the prince in, her nerves jangling with the gentleness of his grip.

He released her once the door shut behind them, as if he had held it in fear she would run away. The well-lit room displayed sumptuous fabrics and furnishings. His black garments seemed a shadow in the cream and green tones of the room, her dress a better match. They passed a grouping of couches and chairs around a low table. A reading nook, with a tufted, silk chaise lounge, curved to their right. Shelves with costly decorations glinted. The guard opened the doors to the balcony, and they walked out onto the marble expanse.

Kambry drew a cooling breath and strode to the stone wall at the edge of the balcony. She leaned out over the balustrade. The gardens below spread before them, shadowed in the fall of evening, the maze standing out in dark green angles. The assistant gardener’s planning table stood before the hedge, the distance making the wrought-iron chairs near the path tiny.

“You’ve been enjoying the garden, I’ve heard,” said the prince at her shoulder.

“It’s lovely,” she murmured, her nerves still tingling with something she could not identify. Everything felt brighter, sharper.

“It will be a few minutes before the staff serve our meal. But you said you weren’t hungry, so perhaps that is good, and you will be ready to eat when it arrives.”

He reached for her hand, and she watched him slide his fingers under her palm and lift it into the light. Mesmerized as if he were a snake charming her with glittering eyes, she held still. But she didn’t meet his gaze. She watched his hand delicately raise hers within inches of his lips.

He looked at the ring on her thumb. “Did you wear the dress to match the ring?”

“What?” she whispered and turned her body away from him though she could not pull her gaze from him.

“The ring matches your dress.”

“No. I just chose one of two options.” “It suits you.”

“The ring or the dress, Your Highness?” “I think both.”

“I’ll be returning them both, of course.”

“But not yet.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand.

She blinked slowly, expecting to find herself somewhere else, home perhaps, waking up from a dream. But when she opened her eyes, it was only to find he was now looking at her. A shadow covered half his face. Of what she could see, there was no expression, his lips a line of indifference.

She peered at him, trying to read his expression. “Are you ever happy?”

“No.”

Slowly, she pulled her hand from his and turned to face him. “Why not?”

“I trust no one.” “Why?”

He captured her hand again. “Maybe this will change things.”

She didn’t understand him and tried to see past the shadow. “How will this ring help you have happiness?”

“It will reveal the truth. What rings true will make me happy.”

The sound of a door closing drew their attention, and the prince released her hand. Several servants entered, striding straight to the table. A cart squatted with covered plates and serving dishes. Kambry saw the guard standing by the far door to the apartment. It was a relief he had not been out on the balcony with them.

“They’ll be another moment. Come this way.” He set his hand to the small of her back and guided her to the other end of the balcony. His fingers were warm, and she was conscious of their contact. When the two stopped at the balcony wall, he said, “Please keep your hands on the wall where I can see them in the light. I want to ask some questions.”

Kambry turned to face out at the garden and laid both hands on the barrier. At least, she would not have to look into his eyes. His hand remained pressed to the small of her back, its heat dragging at her thoughts.

“You have written nothing about your village which I asked you to do. Why is that?”

“I have spent little time in my rooms.” She stood stiffly, looking out over the garden, curious about what more he wanted to know about her village.

He leaned close, making her draw her shoulders up, and whispered. “Are you frightened of me?”

“That is a silly question.”

“Why are you frightened of me?” “You trust no one.”

“I want to trust you.”

Her heart flipped. His hand lifted from the small of her back, and she shivered. He slid the shawl from her arm and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?”

“What will it take to build this trust?” “The ring of truth.”

“An object cannot build things. People do that.”

He chuckled, and she peeped at him, wanting to see what he looked like laughing. Handsome, a sharp difference so overwhelming it made his previous lack of emotion even more telling. He wasn’t without feeling; he was holding his feelings back.

“I wasn’t talking about the ring,” he said. “I’m drawn by words that ring of truth but are not worthy of trust. Perhaps I’ll be foolish one last time.”

“I don’t intend to fool you, Your Highness.”

“And yet you will.” He raised a finger to her lips, stopping her denial, and looked down at the ring. Still deep purple. “So not tonight.” Prince Russal turned, glancing at the servants, then returned his gaze to her. “They serve our dinner. Shall we?” He walked away, and she looked out at the garden a moment before following.

He held her chair for her and scooted it in as she sat down. “Hands above the table, please.”

She jerked them up, balancing her wrists awkwardly on the table edge. The first course gave her an excuse to keep her attention on her plate and eat the spiced slice of peach quietly.

“Have you enjoyed our weather, Miss do Brode?” “It’s been pleasant,” she said between bites.

“What is your favorite part of the garden?”

“I like all of it.” She set her fork down and waited for his next question.

He motioned for her to continue eating. “I’m particular toward the maze.”

She picked up her fork. “I hear you have requested designs for a new one.”

“I have.”

He said no more, and the servants brought the second course in. It was a light egg custard with a cinnamon glaze on top. She had only scooped her spoon into the thick pottage when Prince Russal said, “I’ve seen you speaking to Konnelby. It would not be fair for me to discuss the plans. You might share my preferences with him.”

“I understand. He and I talked considerably about his design.”

They ate in silence, and she felt the need to fill it when the tapping of their spoons grated on her nerves. She finished her custard and thought a moment. “Perhaps it would be appropriate to receive the plans blind so you do not know who provided which plan.”

He stared at her a moment. “I’ll consider that.”

The main course arrived, and he changed the subject. “You said you have a brother. What is his training?”

“He works with my father as a carpenter.” “So your mother is the weaver?”

“Yes.”

“But you are not.” “I am a scribe.”

“So you said before. Why?” “It is what I do well.”

“It is a lonely occupation,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Is that why you like it?”

“Few to judge, and what they judge I can improve.”

“There is nothing to improve about you.” His voice was a deep caress.

Annoyance was her best defense against a blush. “Except my obvious traitorous features.” She did not wish to flirt with the prince. At any rate, she shouldn’t wish to, and the words kept the blush from reaching her face.

“None of those who have betrayed me wore a label across their foreheads. They all looked as delightful as you.”

“Send me home and leave me an enigma.” “No. You will stay until you reveal all.”

“What is it you think I am hiding?”

His eyes bore a brightness that flickered in the candlelight. His mouth quirked up on one side as he held her gaze. Laying his fork on the table, he reached across and held her hand, turning it so the ring stood proud. “Could you love me, Miss do Brode?”

Her hand jerked, but he kept his hold. A thousand questions rose in her mind. Was she capable? Will she? Would she like to? Why is he asking this question? The words tumbled around at the back of her tongue, held captive by a heart beating so rapidly nothing could exit. Finally, her pulse slowing, she said the simplest response she could muster, “Suspicion does not breed love.”

The ring flashed green, and her heart stilled, then increased in tempo. How could that possibly be a betrayal?

Oddly, his face relaxed, and his smile rose smoothly. His thumb ran across the ring. “Then for tonight and every night we share a meal, let’s leave suspicion in the hallway.”

“And the other six days?”

“Oh, yes, meant to tell you.” He leaned back as though imparting delightful news. “You’ll be having your evening meal with me every night for now on.”