Splinter & Ash, page 4
She would show him. She would show them all.
By late morning, snow still covered the city of Kestrel’s Haven. The youngest children in the neighborhood—nobles and commoners—were playing outside, making snow stars and starting snowball fights.
Under other circumstances, Splinter would have joined them. Snow was rare in Haven, and twelve was never too old for a snowball fight. But not today.
Splinter rolled her shoulders. Her new leather armor smelled of wax and tanning, and while it was made to fit, it did so uncomfortably. According to the armorer, the leather would chafe until it settled.
“You’re creaking,” Camille whispered with a twinkle in his eyes. As the son of the housekeeper, he had overseen the packing of Splinter’s belongings and was now busy double-checking the packs on her piebald mare, Owl.
“Hush.” Splinter tried not to move around too much, aware that Camille was right. She pulled a short letter she’d written after her fight with Uncle Elias out of her pocket. “Will you give this to the messenger service? I want to make sure Anders knows where I am.”
Camille smiled. “Of course.”
She glanced in the direction of the mansion’s entrance. When Anders had become a squire eight years before, her parents had joined him on his way to the palace, to officially present him. The whole household—including a curious four-year-old Splinter—had seen him off, and it was a day of excitement and celebration.
Now her uncle’s words swirled around Splinter. If she left, she didn’t have to come back.
But she couldn’t stay.
The door opened, and Splinter’s heart skipped a beat.
Camille’s mother walked out into the courtyard. Veridia wore her thick black hair tied back in a braid, and the keys on her belt clanked as she moved. She carried a small paper bag with Splinter’s favorite snow caramels. She smiled, and it transformed her whole face.
Maybe this—too—was why Splinter no longer felt at home here. Everyone had smiled more often when her parents were still alive.
“Look at you, the very picture of your brother.” Veridia held out the sweets to Camille, who hid them away in Splinter’s saddlebags. “He would be so proud if he could see you now. We’re all proud.”
She pulled Splinter into a tight hug.
Splinter blinked hard. “Thank you.”
Veridia pushed a strand of hair out of Splinter’s face. “You’re a near image of your mother too. But with your father’s grit and heart. Our princess is lucky to have crossed paths with you.”
A shadow passed over her face, but it was too fleeting for Splinter to identify.
“You need to remember—your determination and your loyalty are your best qualities. It may not always feel like that, but they will serve you well.”
Splinter nodded. “I’ll remember.”
“It’s not an easy path you’ve chosen. You and the princess. Many nobles care deeply about tradition. They prefer power and appearance to truth and loyalty.”
“Like my uncle?” Splinter hadn’t meant to ask that, but once the words tumbled out, she wanted to know the answer.
Veridia grimaced. “At the palace, you’ll have far more powerful enemies than your uncle.” She shook her head. “Once you’re in the princess’s service, you’re her first line of defense. You stand between her and danger. Trust your princess. Everyone else has to earn your trust five times over.”
Splinter pulled a face. She’d heard stories like that about the palace, often from her mother, and it was the one thing she didn’t look forward to. Well, that and seeing the crown prince again after giving him a black eye.
“What about the other squires?”
Veridia placed a calloused hand against Splinter’s cheek. “They may see you as a threat, starling. As someone who tricked their way into this position. Perhaps some of your teachers will agree. You’re going to have to prove your worth and show that you’re willing to work hard.”
Splinter nodded slowly. “I’ll prove myself to them.”
“I know you will.” Veridia smiled. “Now, what are you waiting for? The day isn’t getting any longer, and you have to report at the palace before the midday bell.”
Splinter risked another glance at the door, but then she nodded. “Thanks, Veridia.”
She walked toward Owl. The armor creaked and chafed when she mounted up, but once she settled in the saddle and tightened the reins, Splinter felt as knightly as she ever had. Once she passed through the gate, there would be no going back.
Though it ached to leave home like this, she smiled. And she couldn’t stop smiling when she nudged Owl into a slow trot and set out on her way toward Ash. She would work hard to be the best princess’s squire the palace had ever seen.
Chapter Five
Splinter
The cobblestone road that wound its way up along Palace Hill, past the curtain walls, and to the royal palace was covered in a thin layer of slush and ice. At the first gate, a raven-haired woman with the shoulders and arms of a blacksmith, carrying a bundle of tools, fought to keep her balance. Two guards who patrolled the road watched her struggle until she threw a sharp look and sharper words at the younger of the two, who laughed and hurried to assist her.
At the second gate, where most travelers left the road for the palace’s outer ward and secondary buildings, such as the kitchens and the servants’ quarters, an older gentleman with sandy brown skin and a leather carrier full of books slipped a few paces away from Splinter. He managed to shield the books but slammed his left shoulder into the ground. Splinter slid out of the saddle to help.
He took her outstretched hand, and behind a pair of thin glasses, he squinted at her. “Thank you, Squire . . . ?”
Splinter hoisted the carrier with books over Owl’s saddle. She bit back a joyful laugh at his question. These steps on an icy road. This was where she left her old self behind.
“Splinter, sir. Squire to the princess.”
“Ah. I’ve heard of you.” He didn’t elaborate whether that was good or bad or nothing at all. Instead he set the pace toward the palace’s main buildings. He kept his eye on the books hanging over the saddle, not on Splinter walking next to her horse.
An awkward silence stretched between them all the way to the third and final gate, where a fortified gatehouse protected the entrance to the royal ward.
The gentleman reclaimed the carrier and draped it over his right arm. He nodded at Splinter. “My name is Master Elnor, tutor to many a wayward squire. I imagine we’ll see each other again soon.” Without so much as a glance at the guards, who stood aside to let him pass, he disappeared into the palace.
The guards closed ranks again in front of Splinter.
One of them, a young man whose helmet slanted over bright red hair and whose green eyes were attentive and kind, shook his head. “That man is impossible. Trying to make a good impression on your teachers, squire?”
“I didn’t know he was a teacher,” Splinter said. She’d settle for not making a bad impression. Plenty of people inside the palace would have made up their minds about her already. She didn’t want to add to that.
“Why are you here?” the guard prompted carefully. His companion snickered, and Splinter felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
She straightened, remembering the words Ash had given her. “My presence is requested by Princess Adelisa. I’m reporting as ordered.”
The guard stepped aside. “Carry on to the courtyard, squire. One of the grooms will see to your horse. You are to report to the master of squires, who is an even more intimidating sort than Master Elnor, if you can believe it. Servants will show you the way.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Guardsman . . . ?”
“Jasse.”
“Thank you, Guardsman Jasse.”
He winked.
Splinter grabbed Owl’s reins and walked to the wide, open courtyard of the royal palace.
This part of the palace, closed to all except those with permission to pass through its gates, came straight from any legend.
Surrounding the courtyard were structures as tall as any Splinter had ever seen. The palace’s central keep, with its majestic stained glass windows and turrets on all five corners, towered over her. Long stone buildings embraced the southern and western sides of the courtyard, and bridges and gateways led to the rest of the ward. Her brother had once described the palace as a city within a city, and he hadn’t been wrong.
One of the stable hands, wearing the sensible gray of palace service and hay stalks in his auburn hair, sauntered up to take Owl to the stables. “The royal stables,” he said. “On account of you being the princess’s squire.”
“How many stables are there?” Splinter asked. Her family’s manor wasn’t small, but this was a whole different world.
“Too many.”
“What about my bags?”
The boy barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “I’ll make sure your belongings are brought to your rooms.”
He took Owl’s reins, and she came willingly, leaving Splinter to face the palace on her own. But before the boy and the horse were out of sight, the doors of the keep slammed open, and a familiar figure came running out.
Ash wore a simpler dress than the night Splinter had met her—a russet-brown woolen gown with sleeves tied at the shoulders. Her leather boots were laced up to her knees, and she’d swapped her carved cane for a smooth one. She might have been any noble daughter in the palace, if it weren’t for the royal crest on her finger and the determination in her eyes.
Splinter felt a rush of worry. What if Ash had changed her mind? What if she had decided she didn’t want a squire at all? What then?
But Ash stopped an arm’s length away from Splinter and beamed at her. “I wasn’t sure if your uncle would let you come or if I’d have to send a detachment of guards.”
“Despite this horrifying break with tradition, Lord DuLac would never disobey a royal order,” Splinter said, affecting her uncle’s mannerisms. She shoved her nerves aside and bowed. “And neither would I.”
Ash nodded regally. “Well then, welcome to the palace, Squire Splinter. I’m glad that you’re here.”
Squire Splinter. Splinter would not grow tired of those words. “My sword is yours, your highness.”
Ash glowered at the honorific, and Splinter smiled at her, as servants crossed the courtyard around them. Splinter knew from her brother’s stories that when Anders had reported for duty, five other boys had been with him, and they’d all been ceremoniously welcomed by the knights who sponsored them as well as the squires they would learn and study alongside for two years, before they left to serve their knights. But with the war calling so many fighters north, that had changed. Even though the empire was far from Haven, the city had lost some of its color. Now squires reported like Splinter did, without fanfare or ceremony.
Well, the two of them didn’t need it. Still, “I am yours to command, Ash.”
Ash shook her head. “I don’t need someone to command. I need someone to stand beside me.”
Splinter reached for Ash’s hand. “I can do that too.”
Ash squeezed Splinter’s fingers. “Come, I’ll show you to your room. It’s next to mine. You’ll need to present yourself to Lord Brenet, the master of squires. And tonight you’ll meet my mother and brother for dinner. Although . . .” A mischievous smile played around Ash’s lips. “You’ve met Lucen already, of course.”
“Don’t remind me,” Splinter muttered. She didn’t relish the idea of seeing Lucen again after she’d punched him in the marketplace—even if she still thought she’d been right to stop him from bullying a girl at one of the stalls. She was intimidated by the idea of meeting Queen Aveline too. She didn’t want to disappoint the queen after she had allowed Splinter to come to the palace.
She let Ash pull her into the keep, and when she saw the entrance hall open up before her, everything else was forgotten. The winter sun shone through star-shaped windows, casting colorful shadows on the light gray walls. Roughly hewn steps led to the heavy double doors that guarded the throne room.
On either side of the hall, high above doors that led deeper into the keep, were the worn and battered shields of knights whose actions had changed the course of Calinor’s history. Knights whose bravery had changed battles, whose loyalty was unmatched. Knights who had kept the royal family safe from danger. Knights whose adventures were studied by squires longing to be heroes.
No DuLac shields were part of this collection, but Splinter only needed to close her eyes to imagine her own shield there one day.
Lord Brenet, master of squires, leaned his elbows on his desk and folded his hands. Tiny scars ran across his face, and his hair was so light it was nearly colorless. His pale blue eyes drilled through Splinter.
She forced herself to stand tall, her hands behind her back.
Once Ash had showed her to a room—a room that was twice the size of her chambers back home—she’d guided Splinter to the office of the master of squires. She could’ve asked a servant to lead Splinter, but instead she showed her the way through the winding hallways and passages herself, and when Splinter commented on it, she shrugged. “I’m still learning my way too. I like knowing where to go.”
“Like the maze?” Splinter offered.
“Like the maze.” Ash had grinned.
Lord Brenet pulled Splinter back to the present. “Other squires . . . other nobles . . . may look at your position and imagine it is one of ease and comfort.” His voice was deep and measured. “You may look at your position and think the same. With the princess as your sponsor instead of a knight, your service may look different. But I will not let you tarnish the reputation of squires in this palace.”
Splinter pushed her shoulders back. “I’m willing to work hard, my lord.” She wasn’t looking for any special treatment.
“I would work you hard even if you weren’t willing, squire,” Brenet said. “You have your duties to your princess. You also have your duties to me and to the palace. All junior squires—including you—take lessons from the palace tutors. You will learn to fight. You will learn etiquette and service. You will learn strategy and history. And you will perform admirably, or you’ll answer to me.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Brenet pushed his chair back and wheeled it around the desk. He maneuvered himself closer to Splinter. Ash had told her that Brenet had been one of the queen’s fiercest field commanders until his legs had been crushed in an ambush. After his recovery, he had returned to the palace and taken over teaching the squires.
“Have you trained with swords before?” he asked.
Splinter didn’t think that following exercises from a book counted to this man. “No, sir.”
“Bows, blades?”
Splinter shook her head. “Nothing, sir.”
“A squire without experience in times of war and uprising.” He sighed. “Let’s see if you have an aptitude at all. Follow me.”
Splinter knew about the war, and she wanted to ask about the uprising, but Brenet had already left the office. She had to run to keep up with him, as they followed a gently sloping hallway down to a broad corridor and east toward a secondary building.
He kept talking. “You’ll be expected to learn your way around. Tardiness because you were lost is not acceptable. You’ll be expected to keep your gear clean, your weapons sharp, and your horse well groomed and well fed.”
At a tall set of doors, one of which stood slightly ajar, Brenet turned to Splinter. “Every squire who passes through these halls dreams of becoming a knight. That decision is not mine, nor would I want it. It’s the queen’s, and the queen’s alone. But it is my responsibility to ensure that every squire knows what it means to be a knight. To follow the queen’s orders in times of peace, and to fight for her in times of war. If I do not think you have it in you, if I think your presence dishonors or threatens the royal family, I don’t care what the princess wants, I’ll send you back home before she can muster a protest. Do I make myself clear?”
Splinter swallowed. “Yes, my lord. Perfectly.”
“Good.”
He pushed open the door, and a wave of sound crashed over Splinter. A shiver of anticipation coursed along her spine. On the indoor practice courts, at least two dozen junior squires were practicing their weapons skills. Some with pole arms and daggers, others at the archery lanes, and the vast majority in circles drawn for sword fighting. In four different circles, all marked with chalk borders, squires holding wooden practice swords were paired off. Some attacked with abandon, while others were more cautiously trying to find the right opening. The squires waiting for their turn shouted tips, cheered for their friends, or heckled their opponents.
In the midst of the group stood a tutor Splinter already knew—Master Elnor, this time without the carrier full of books. He wore a practical tunic and held a slender stick like it was an extension of his arm. He looked dangerous. Far more dangerous than out on the street.
Where the other weapons masters on the practice courts had assistants, Master Elnor focused on all four fights at once, turning from one circle to the other, squinting through his glasses, offering commentary where it was needed. “Keep your guard up, Ilsar!” “Meren, you are too slow!” “It’s a deadly weapon, not a breadstick!”
Brenet coughed at those last words, but when Splinter glanced at him, she couldn’t make out a smile. He kept his face impassive. He called out, “Master Elnor, I have another student for you.”
Immediately, the room quieted as every squire in the practice courts stopped their work to watch. Splinter heard the whispers. “It’s the princess’s squire!” “She doesn’t belong here.” “She’s only here as a favor to the princess. People like her will ruin Calinor.”
Splinter tried to pinpoint who had said that, but none of the squires would meet her eye. Nor did she recognize any of them, except for one. At the farthest end of the court stood a squire with a bow several inches taller than he was. Prince Lucen scowled when he caught her staring.
Closer by, two of the older squires, lanky boys with short-cropped sandy hair who appeared to be twins and who were both holding practice swords, laughed at her. “She looks like she’s never held a weapon in her life.”
