THE PRINCE’S KNIGHT
Rachel D. Thompson
Published by Smashwords for Purple Sword Publications, LLC
This publication is protected under the US Copyright Law and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give or sell this publication to anyone else. If you received this publication from anyone other than PurpleSword.com, or Purple Sword Publications, LLC’s authorized third party resellers, you have received a pirated copy. Please contact us at our website at www.PurpleSword.com and notify us of the situation. Piracy robs authors and publishers of potential royalties.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE PRINCE’S KNIGHT
Copyright © 2010 RACHEL D. THOMPSON
ISBN 978-1-936165-55-1
Cover Art Designed By Dawné Dominique
Edited By D. Thomas Jerlo and Traci Markou
Chapter One
Aric rubbed his right thigh, trying to get it to loosen up for the long walk across the throne room. The distance looked impossible for him to manage, but he’d lived through far worse. This was his duty now; the best he could do was grin and bear it. Or at least grimace and bear it.
He staggered through the door, keeping his focus on his destination rather than chance looking around at the visiting dignitaries. He felt multiple gazes slide over him, assess him, and then dismiss him as nothing more than a cripple. Just as well. He didn’t deserve their attention.
Only twenty-five, and already walking like an old man.
Sweat broke out on his brow by the time he reached the room’s halfway point. The empty thrones stared at him, mocking him. He knew even once he reached the dais, there would be no respite for him. He’d still have to stand while the royals enjoyed the perks their station allowed them. The sword strapped to his waist threatened to trip him with every step as he lurched forward.
“Your leg will get better mobility with use,” the surgeon had assured him. Right now it felt like someone was shoving hot pokers into his thigh, jabbing at the weak muscles that quivered beneath the scarred skin. He gritted his teeth and staggered the last few feet, losing all composure by leaning against the arm of one of the thrones for a few heartbeats. Screw them if they couldn’t allow a cripple a moment or two to compose himself. He took a deep breath, inhaling the heavy scent of smoke from the nearby candelabras and almost choking on it.
That walk had taken a lot more out of him than he’d thought it would, and he wasn’t even dressed in full armor. He’d stopped at the chainmail shirt. His leg wouldn’t support any additional weight. Now he couldn’t wait to return to his quarters and remove the blasted metal thing. With difficulty, he turned and hobbled a couple steps away from the throne to face the doorway through which he’d entered. Sweat covered his entire body, and he couldn’t imagine traveling across that great expanse of floor again.
A fanfare of trumpets announced the arrival of the royals. Aric’s attention snapped straight ahead. No one stared for long at the royals without getting reprimanded, though every instinct in him shouted at him to look. He’d never been this close to the royal family before, and curiosity could be a powerful mistress.
The king and queen entered together, looking resplendent in matching silver regalia. The king’s robe flowed over the carpeted floor in a silver cascade that took Aric’s breath away. He couldn’t help himself. He stared. With the queen’s fair, golden coloring, she looked like an angel, while the king’s presence filled the entire room with an aura beyond comprehension. They drew every eye, and no wonder. But Aric’s attention shifted away from them almost as soon as they entered the room and began the long walk across the floor.
Aric was more interested in catching a good look at the prince, his new assignment. Prince’s bodyguard. More like prince’s nursemaid. He held back a snort. Barely.
King Gerald and Queen Brianna were halfway across the floor before anyone appeared in the doorway behind them, but Aric knew at once the man following must be the prince, though he’d never seen him before. The youth had the queen’s fair coloring, and his father’s regal chin and noble bearing, though on his younger frame it looked far more arrogant. His gaze swept the crowd with disdain. Rather than glide, he swaggered across the room.
Aric had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep back a laugh. This was the prince he’d been assigned to guard with his life? This brat? How had he fallen so low? But he kept a careful eye on the prince as he drew nearer. Unlike his parents, he wore white rather than silver. When the prince glanced his way, Aric noted his blue tabard stood out and matched his eyes. For an instant, the look of cold detachment slipped, and Aric saw something more human just beneath the surface. But then the mask slid back into place. The prince stepped onto the dais and turned his back to Aric. Like the knight, he had to remain standing. There were only two thrones, reserved for the king and queen.
With his leg stuck out at an awkward angle, Aric clasped his hands behind himself and studied the back of the prince’s head. Prince Matthew. A real pain in the arse if there ever was one, Aric’s commander had said. He looked it, too.
His hair was long enough to curl around his ears and golden enough to rival the sunlight that filtered through the room’s arched windows. Aric disliked him on sight. Hasn’t ever had to lift a finger his entire life, while great soldiers are out dying to maintain his lavish lifestyle.
“Let the proceedings begin,” the king announced, and Aric’s attention shifted to the crowd as the first man stepped forward.
“Your Highness.” The man gave a perfunctory bow, just deep enough to keep him out of the dungeon. His thick belly made the task difficult. When he straightened, he tugged on his long beard.
“I’m here about—”
“Let me guess,” the king interrupted. “Taxes.”
The man’s hairy face turned red. “The Barony of Ellendor is on the farthest edge of the kingdom! And it’s the poorest. We can’t afford to fund your war any longer.”
The king’s gaze grew hard as he leaned forward. “The kingdom offers you protection. Defecting would leave you vulnerable. And I ask no more than you can afford.”
“That’s a lie! My poor daughter starves while your soldiers gorge themselves!”
“That’s hardly true.” The king sat back, and his wife folded her hand around his.
“Baron Ellendor,” the queen said, her voice falling like music into the quiet room, “If you’re so concerned about your daughter, or any of your people for that matter, send them here. We will foster any that are interested. But we cannot take supplies away from the troops that keep us from invasion.”
The baron sneered. “That is not good enough.”
“You are free to do what you think is right for your people, of course, but that is the only offer we can make.”
“We’ll see about that.” The man’s bloodshot eyes considered the prince for a moment, before he turned on a heel and stormed out, shoving past people too slow to move out of his way.
For the next few hours, the royals listened to the complaints of the kingdom. At one point, Aric caught the prince hiding a yawn behind his hand.
The knight shifted his weight, and his stiffened leg threatened to spill him to the carpeted flooring. Such a fall would still hurt. There wasn’t much cushioning between the carpet and the stones beneath. He managed to catch his balance and decided he wouldn’t try that again. Hurry up already!
At long last the proceedings drew to an end, and the final visitor left the room. Still, he couldn’t relax his position while the royals remained. The king and queen rose, and the queen shot him a smile that caught him off-guard. He smiled back too late, aiming the expression at her retreating back.
The prince turned to him, the sunlight catching in his golden curls. None of the royals had worn crowns today, and the prince’s hair hung loose down to his shoulders.
“So you’re my new shadow?” The prince’s gaze slid down Aric’s body, lingering on his lame leg. “It’s going to be hard for you to keep up.”
Aric’s jaw clenched while he forced a short bow. Agony flared down sore muscles. He needed to sit. Soon. And maybe take some more pain medication. No, make that definitely. But first the formalities.
“Sir Aric, Your Highness.”
“Yes. I know.” The prince turned and began the long walk across the room.
Aric rubbed some of the soreness from his leg and attempted to follow. “If you don’t mind my asking, Your Highness, what happened to your last guard?”
Matthew threw him a look, complete with raised eyebrow. “He disappointed me.”
“Ah. Yes. I remember now. He met the chopping block.”
The prince’s look turned appraising. “Indeed. Ensure you don’t make the same mistake.”
“Well, it would help if I knew what he did.”
The prince stepped in front of him and pivoted on a heel, coming to a stop. Aric’s leg screamed a complaint, as he had to make a quick halt. He gritted his teeth, knowing the prince would probably derive pleasure at seeing his discomfort.
“He accused me of hating women.”
“Oh.” Aric could see how that might be a grave offense to the prince. But to be fair, he is nineteen and unmarried. I’d better not mention that. Wisely, his mouth stayed shut this time, and they continued down the hallway.
“Your few things have already been moved to my rooms,” the prince said, distaste apparent in his voice. “I’m sure your commanding officer already briefed you on your duties. Though I suppose some allowances must be made due to your deformity.”
He wasn’t going to let that slide. “What deformity? It’s an injury. I wasn’t born with it, Your Highness.”
“Whatever. I don’t see the difference.”
They came to a staircase. Aric stared at it, trying to gather up his nerve for the ascent.
“There’s no other way to get there?” he asked after his leg protested the first step.
The prince rolled his eyes as if to suggest he’d been stuck with a real dolt. “They all involve stairs.” But then he extended an arm. “I’d better help you, or it will take all day to get there.”
With the prince’s grudging assistance, he clambered to the top, fresh sweat pouring down his body and his breathing ragged. Luckily, they didn’t have much farther to go. They rounded a corner, and Matthew released him so quickly, he had to catch his balance against the nearest wall. Two guards stood bracketing a large door painted in gold leaf. A bit ostentatious.
Prince Matthew preceded him through the door, and Aric collapsed on the first thing he saw—a plush sofa where he could prop his sore leg up.
“Is my medicine here?” he asked, not above begging if it would give him some relief. All he could think of was the screaming agony radiating out from the torn flesh of his thigh. It encompassed the entire right side of his body now, and threatened to spill over to the left.
“I’m not your maid,” Matthew snapped. “Don’t forget you serve me.” Despite the harsh words, he disappeared and returned with a bag of herbs. He threw the package on Aric’s lap.
Aric grabbed for it, tore it open, selected a leaf, and popped it onto his tongue, pressing it against the roof of his mouth. It took a minute for the bitter drug to start taking effect, but when it did, he relaxed back into the cushions with a sigh of relief. The sharp pain dulled to a distant throb.
He finally opened his eyes to gaze about the room. More doors led further into the prince’s chambers. Most of the flooring was stone, but a large rug sat beneath the sofa and the table in front of it. A bowl of fruit beckoned to Aric, and he leaned forward far enough to grab an apple.
The prince slapped at his hand. “Those aren’t for you.”
“Then what am I supposed to eat? Your Highness?” He bit out the last words. The reminder of his pain made him edgy, careless. Unwilling to take crap from this spoiled brat.
A wicked smile lit Matthew’s face. “The kitchen is downstairs.”
Aric groaned and threw himself back onto the couch, not caring if he invited the prince’s wrath for even daring to sit on the thing. “This assignment is going to kill me.”
“Not if I kill you first.” The sly voice held a hint of humor in it.
Matthew held an apple out to him. He snatched at it before the prince could change his mind.
“You’re not as evil as you’d like people to believe, Your Highness.” The last of the drug dissolved on his tongue. He took a big bite out of the fruit and then licked the juice from his hand when it ran down his palm.
“You don’t want to test me on that.”
Much revived now, Aric sat up. “So how many attempts have been made on your life so far? With your charming attitude, I’d guess it has to be in the hundreds.” The words were careless, but he couldn’t help himself.
Matthew bared his teeth in the parody of a smile. “None so far.”
“Ah. Then this will be an easy job.”
“It had better be, for your sake.” The prince glanced at him. “I don’t see how you’ll be able to protect me, should the need arise.”
“Trust me, I’m more than adequate for the job.”
The prince shrugged just as someone knocked on the door. “You’d better answer that,” he suggested with a sneer. “Might be an assassin.”
Aric heaved a long-suffering sigh and staggered to his feet. An assassin would at least put me out of my misery.
He hobbled to the gold door and slid it open a crack. A page stared back before slipping past Aric to Matthew, who’d moved forward to see who it was.
“Tutor Graham sent me. You’re late for your lessons, Your Highness.” The boy’s tone implied this wasn’t the first time.
Matthew glared at the page until the servant turned and disappeared down the hallway.
Matthew turned to Aric. “Up for a walk, old man?”
The knight and the prince faced each other, an unspoken challenge in each stance. The brat sure knew how to push his buttons. There isn’t even any gray in my hair yet!
“Lead the way,” he all but growled. “Your Highness.”
Chapter Two
Aric fixed a glare on the back of Matthew’s fair head, trying not to think about the fresh pain lancing up his leg. Some rest would be most welcome, though the prince didn’t look inclined to grant it.
I’m a knight, damn it! Trained to endure pain. A snot-nosed little brat isn’t about to break me.
He had to admit the relief he felt when they reached their destination, if only to himself. He knocked on the door Matthew indicated, silently fuming. Wouldn’t want to bruise the royal knuckles.
“Are you sure you haven’t returned to duty too soon, Sir Aric?” Matthew asked while they waited for someone to permit them. His cool gaze swept over the knight. “Some more bed rest might do you good.”
A strong backhand might do you good. Gods, I need to lie down.
He allowed a grim smile for Matthew’s benefit. It felt more like a grimace. “Two weeks in bed was enough for me. Didn’t want the leg to atrophy.”
When the door opened, Matthew swept past the knight, head held high. Aric followed at a slow hobble.
“What’s the meaning of this?” the prince demanded. “Keeping me waiting on the doorstep like some common riffraff!”
The startled servant who admitted them shrank back, giving two rapid bows in quick succession. “My apologies, Your Highness.”
“No need to apologize, Kierson,” a different voice said from a corner of the room.
Aric looked in that direction, taking in a wizened old man. Must be the tutor. The man looked like a library scholar, with spectacles perched on the end of his thin nose. Stringy brown hair did little to cover his scalp. His green robe was embroidered with gold trim, proving he possessed some influence with the royal family.
“The young prince has kept me waiting for nearly an hour,” the man said with a sniff.
Matthew stifled a yawn behind a well-manicured hand. “After that assembly, I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting through another boring lecture.”
The scholar ignored the prince’s rude behavior as he came forward, gaze fixing on Aric. He extended a hand, a polite smile forming. “Ah, someone new to keep Prince Matty in line. I’m Graham, his unfortunate tutor.”
Matty? Aric stole a glance at the prince, whose lips had firmed into a thin line.
“Come in, lad. Have a seat. I’ve heard all about you.” Graham gestured at a plump armchair situated next to the room’s only window. It would provide a good view of the rest of the room, as well as the grounds outside. “Please.”
Aric sank into the offered chair with a sigh of relief and rubbed his aching leg. After the trek across the castle, his drugs weren’t working much. He popped another leaf, ignoring the prince’s murderous expression.
“And you,” Graham said, turning back to the prince. He waved a hand behind his back and the terrified Kierson disappeared through a nearby door. “You should be ashamed of yourself for treating a hero of the nation with such disrespect.”
To be fair, Aric suspected Matthew treated everyone the same way. And he was no hero of the nation. Just an unlucky soldier. But he liked watching the prince squirm under the tutor’s regard.
Kierson reappeared at Aric’s elbow. “Beverage, sir?”
He smiled at the nervous servant, and then selected one of the hot mugs of tea. Now this is the life. He sank further down into the armchair and watched Graham and Matthew settle themselves at the table in the middle of the room. A pile of books sprawled across the wooden surface. One heavy tome lay open in front of the seat Prince Matthew chose.
Kierson deposited his drink tray near Matthew’s elbow before settling in a corner of the room on the floor. Aric frowned. There wasn’t a lack of seating, so the servant’s choice seemed like a strange one, but he looked content enough as he reclined among more stacks of books. The entire room looked like an ill-kept library, complete with shelves of dusty artifacts.
“Letters again?” the prince whined. “You have no imagination.”