Splinter & Ash, page 5
Master Elnor slammed his stick to the floor with a resounding crack. “Did your tutors give you leave to stop? Get back to work.” His voice echoed through the room. He pointed at the squires with swords around him. “That holds true for you too. Meren, Corwen”—he indicated the twins—“leave your swords and take five laps around the room.”
When the two handed in their swords, Elnor turned to Splinter. “Take one of the practice swords, squire, and let’s see what you’ve got.”
The air got sucked out of the room, and Splinter swallowed hard. Vaguely she noticed that Elnor stepped into the abandoned circle and every squire who wasn’t practicing gravitated toward it, determined to watch. Someone pushed a blade into her hand, and she tested its weight and grip. It was lighter than the wooden swords she’d used at home, and the hilt was still warm.
Splinter’s hands were damp and rivulets of sweat ran down her back as she stepped into the circle. She’d only ever tried paper exercises. She had never fought against anyone before. Not with swords.
Elnor’s stick shot toward her, faster than she could anticipate, and it cracked across her ribs. “Breathe, squire. It won’t do anyone any good if you faint here.”
Splinter gulped in a breath of air, and her head cleared a little.
Elnor beckoned her forward. “Have you ever sparred before?”
Splinter shook her head. “No, sir. But I’ve practiced forms.”
Her words were met with muffled laughter from the other squires.
Elnor didn’t mind them. “Mastering forms is essential to good swordplay. Try to hit me with your sword. Widen your stance. Shoulders back. And fight.”
Splinter relaxed her grip on the sword. She observed Master Elnor. The books she’d found in her father’s study had taught her that everyone had a weakness. That there was a strategy for every opponent, no matter how strong.
Maybe the writers hadn’t met Master Elnor, because she didn’t have a clue what his weakness was. He stood with the comfort of a man who feared no sword.
“Fight, squire!”
Splinter leapt. She arced the sword up high and threw her whole body into bringing it down toward her tutor. Elnor parried the sword effortlessly. “Big movements will tell your opponent what you’re planning. Keep it small.”
Splinter lunged forward. Again Elnor deflected. He slammed the tip of his stick against her shoulder. “Sloppy. Where are those forms, squire?”
The words cut. Splinter rubbed her aching shoulder. She reminded herself that he wanted her to show her skills. She needed to keep her wits about her.
She brought her practice sword up to shoulder height and cautiously settled into the stance she always used for practice. The familiarity loosened her muscles and sharpened her awareness.
Elnor dropped the tip of the stick, a fraction, nothing more, but Splinter lunged at the opening. This time when he raised his guard, she didn’t let herself be pushed back. She circled around Elnor and thrust low. When he parried and countered, she sidestepped his attack and slashed at him. They fell into a rhythm, where every one of Splinter’s attacks glanced off Elnor’s blocks, but each time she spotted a new opening, she reached for it.
The sword grew heavy in Splinter’s hands. Her aching shoulder protested, and she collected bruises from Elnor’s parries, but it didn’t stop her. She laughed. This was what she’d dreamed of doing.
Elnor’s stick slashed out at her. Low. Too low for her to block properly. The stick swept her feet out from under her, and Splinter slammed down to the floor. She tried to cling to her sword, but the weapon slipped from her hands.
Master Elnor stepped in and pinned down her sword hand with his stick. “Never let go of your sword, squire.”
Splinter nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Elnor regarded her. The stares from the other squires weighed down on her. With a start, she realized that Lord Brenet had remained to watch too, his arms crossed as he considered her.
Did he think she had it in her? Did any of them think she could be a squire? Or was she an interloper to them?
Elnor’s hand swam into her vision, and the tutor helped Splinter to her feet. He held her when she stood, and slowly, like it took him a long time to decide, he nodded. “You’re not hopeless.”
He turned to Brenet. “She’ll do.”
Splinter’s breath caught. As praise, it wasn’t much, but she would learn. She would become better. She would do.
Around them, some of the squires who’d smirked at Splinter frowned. Others raised their eyebrows, and one or two of them—including a tall squire with pale winter freckles and a shock of red hair—grinned. Prince Lucen was nowhere to be seen.
“Raw talent is only the starting point, squire,” Brenet said. Begrudgingly he added, “But it’s better than nothing. One of the older squires will guide you to the palace stores for your uniforms. Report to your classes tomorrow. Tonight you are expected to present yourself to the queen. Tidy yourself up, and do not disappoint us.”
“Yes, my lord,” Splinter said.
“Ilsar,” Elnor barked. “Return your sword and show the new squire around.”
The red-haired squire bowed slightly to his opponent. He took his sword and Splinter’s and returned them to a rack on the wall. Lord Brenet left the room, Master Elnor returned to teaching, and Ilsar offered Splinter an arm, then laughed when she scowled at him. “Don’t look too disgruntled, squireling. No one can get past Master Elnor’s defense, except perhaps Lucen. He must see something special in you, to be so lavish with his praise.”
“Lavish?” Splinter had to take two steps for every one of Ilsar’s.
He led her to another set of doors, opposite the one she’d entered through. “You must have impressed him. Which means you may actually provide us with some entertainment, before you wash out. A princess’s squire. What a joke.”
Chapter Six
Ash
Ash arrived to the dining room before anyone else. The table was set. The candles in the chandelier and the lanterns along the windows were lit. Outside, twilight covered the city like a blanket. Inside, the fire in the fireplace crackled, and small sparks danced around the flames.
Ash loosened the leather straps of her arm brace and pushed the wide silver bracelet that wound around her wrist back in place.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Lucen said, slamming open the door and stomping into the room.
Ash tightened the leather straps again. She’d grown adept at tying them one-handed. “Did what, Lucen?”
Her older brother walked over to her spot by the fireplace. He was resplendent in his royal blue tunic trimmed with silver, but his face was twisted in a grimace. “Made that DuLac your squire.”
Ash pulled her sleeve down. “Just because Splinter hurt your feelings doesn’t mean I shouldn’t ask her to be my companion here at court.” She didn’t add that she didn’t have anyone else to rely on, and that included her brother.
Lucen crowded her. “Companion, attendant, fine. Have her be your lady-in-waiting for all I care. But you asked her to be your squire. You’re not even a knight! You’re never going to be a knight!”
“And I suppose you are?” Ash shot back. She leaned a hand against the mantel to give herself space. “You’re not behaving very knightly.”
“To be a knight of Calinor matters,” Lucen hissed.
“If being a knight of Calinor matters, maybe you should try acting like one,” another voice cut in. Splinter appeared in the door opening, scowling at Lucen. She’d changed to a formal squire’s outfit: a silver-gray tunic, a dagger, and a badge on her left shoulder that showed her sponsor’s crest—in this case, the royal family’s gold stars on a midnight-blue patch, with a red circle denoting a younger princess.
Splinter looked every inch the princess’s squire, and Ash couldn’t be prouder.
Lucen spun around. “Do not forget who you’re addressing.”
“If being a knight of Calinor matters, maybe you should try acting like one, your highness.” Splinter walked over to the fireplace and placed herself between Ash and Lucen.
Lucen grabbed Splinter by her tunic, pulling her close. “Only one of us will ever be a knight of Calinor.”
Splinter grunted. “My mother and my brother taught me what honor and duty mean. You’re a bully who throws tantrums every time he doesn’t get his way.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s my duty to keep the kingdom strong.” Lucen pushed her into the rough wall next to the fireplace. “And a knight’s sword is for people who deserve it, who respect the kingdom’s history.”
Splinter kicked him.
As Ash dashed forward to intervene, she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Queen Aveline and Lord Lambelin entered the room side by side. The queen’s dark eyebrows were drawn together in a frown.
Lambelin stalked over to the fighting squires immediately, his face pale with fury. He grabbed Splinter and Lucen by the scruffs of their tunics and tore them apart like they were a pair of angry palace cats. “You both discredit the uniforms you wear.”
Splinter stopped struggling at once. Lambelin had to shake Lucen before he dropped his fists. “I was under the impression that squires were taught respect and self-control. Perhaps I was mistaken,” Lambelin continued.
Ash opened her mouth to defend Splinter, but the queen placed a hand on her shoulder, gently but insistently. “Stay out of this.” So Ash kept her silence, and nervously toyed with the silver bands around her fingers.
Lambelin looked at Splinter coldly. “Is there any reason why the queen should not send you home?”
Splinter bit her lip. “No, my lord.”
Lambelin turned to Lucen. “And you, you’re supposed to set an example for the other squires. Is there any reason why you keep getting into these fights?”
“She—” Lucen started, but Lambelin shook him again. Ash was impressed by the strength it must take to keep the two of them held up by their scruffs. “No, sir.”
“Remember that, the next time you think about brawling in front of the queen.” Finally Lambelin let go, and Ash breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Both Lucen and Splinter bowed to the queen, but no one could deny the look of pure disgust the crown prince gave Splinter, or the silent challenge Splinter offered up in response.
Queen Aveline let go of Ash’s arm and swept toward the table, taking her place at the head. “We will sit, have dinner, and that will be the last of it,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Everyone fell in line around her: Lucen on her left side, Lambelin on her right, Ash and Splinter next to them and opposite each other.
Ash locked eyes with Splinter. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
Splinter nodded.
Lambelin poured wine for himself and the queen and juice for the others. Queen Aveline turned to Splinter. “My daughter tells me you intend to be a knight one day.”
Splinter went bright red, but she didn’t flinch. “Yes, your majesty. I hope so.”
“It’s not been done before.”
“That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be tried,” Splinter said carefully.
Lucen coughed.
The queen took a slow sip from her goblet. “It doesn’t mean it should, either.”
Ash watched her intently. After a day full of meetings and council sessions, where she negotiated with the nobles of the court to provide for Haven’s poor and the merchants of the city to keep their prices low so everyone could afford their wares, the queen appeared tired. She had thin lines around her eyes and mouth, and some of her curly copper hair had escaped the intricate braid laced with gold filigree.
She hadn’t been thrilled by Ash’s request to let Splinter be her squire. It had taken all of Ash’s powers of persuasion, with more than a little unexpected help from Lambelin, to convince her.
“You promised to let Splinter prove herself,” Ash reminded her now.
“I intend to keep that promise, my love,” Queen Aveline replied. She sighed, like she meant to say more, but right then the doors opened.
Two servants brought in the first course of the meal. A soup tureen shaped like a starflower, with a fragrant leek-and-duck soup. Small freshly baked breads with dried herbs and white cheese. A platter filled with small pastries, ranging from small savory pies with chicken-and-lemon stew, to leaves filled with peppers and cloves, to sweet baskets full of spiced berries. They set out the food for all five of them and swapped out a candle in one of the lanterns. Everyone sat in silence until they had closed the door behind them.
Lambelin placed a hand on the queen’s arm. “Perhaps you should tell Adelisa and Splinter why you’re concerned, majesty.”
Ash had picked up her spoon but put it down again. She frowned. “Mother?”
Queen Aveline shot Lambelin a look of annoyance, and it occurred to Ash that she didn’t just look tired—she looked old.
Lucen sat up. “Is something wrong?”
Queen Aveline sighed. “I thought we might have a meal first. I’ve fought hard to keep the war away from you.”
Opposite Ash, Splinter clenched her fingers tightly around her spoon, and Ash winced. “No one else can escape the war,” Ash said softly. “I don’t think we should either.”
“I will fight if you want me to, you know I will,” Lucen put in.
The queen closed her eyes briefly. “It’s not about fighting, my love. At least, not in the way you mean.”
She ran a finger along the edge of her plate. “As you know, the Ferisian Empire has tried for years to cross our northern border and take our land. But they do not only fight there, and not merely with swords and arrows. Twice in the past year, Lambelin’s guards have managed to foil an attempt on my life. From our own people, turned against us by Ferisian coin and false promises. Lately we’ve found reason to believe that even one of Calinor’s oldest noble families, the Maronnes, has turned spy for the Ferisian empress.”
Ash’s hands grew cold and her appetite fled. “They tried to kill you? Our own people? Are you safe here? Can the guard protect you?” Her words—and thoughts—tumbled all over each other.
“Adelisa.” Queen Aveline grabbed her daughter’s hand. “I am well protected.”
“The royal guard knows its duty, here and at the border: to keep our queen and our kingdom safe,” Lambelin said quietly.
“And if, stars forbid, something does happen, my life is less important than the kingdom. Your brother will ascend to the throne, and you will have to stand by his side.” Next to Ash, Lucen turned green at the thought. “But hopefully that will be a long way off still.”
“The Maronnes were at the royal star temple days ago. Why didn’t you arrest them?” Lucen wanted to know. His voice cracked.
The queen shook her head. “To accuse a member of the court of treason is not something we can lightly do.”
“But Uncle Lam said—”
“Our suspicions are well founded, but we have no proof. I cannot and will not act without it,” Queen Aveline continued. She squeezed Ash’s hand. “That, my love, is where you come in. I hope you’ll forgive me when I tell you that I didn’t bring you home just because I missed you—though I did miss you. I need you to do your duty and help us unravel what kind of information the Maronnes are gathering for the enemy.”
Ash’s mind was in an uproar. First at the revelation of threats against her mother. Then at the revelation that she’d been brought home to help. Not Lucen. Not the guard or the knights. Ash. “What can I do?”
Lambelin explained, “The guard is investigating the family, but we can’t get close without attracting attention. The Maronnes have daughters at court. Two girls, of your age. We want you to make friends with them, to listen and learn. I have no reason to believe the girls are part of their parents’ schemes, but through them, we may be able to discover what their parents are planning and act against it.”
“I’m not good at making friends,” Ash protested. “I—”
“What if the Maronnes realize what she’s doing?” Lucen interrupted. “She’ll be in danger constantly. She has no way to defend herself. Let me do it. I will find out what they’re planning and stop it. I will—”
“You will follow my orders,” Queen Aveline said. “There is no reason for you to seek out the girls. Adelisa is new at court, and she’s expected to look for new companions. They will likely see this as an opportunity to get close to the throne as well, which should make it easier.”
“Besides, she has me. I will be by her side,” Splinter said. She ducked her head when the queen frowned at her and Lucen scowled.
“It’s not only that it makes more sense, my boy. You’re the heir to the throne, which makes you too valuable a target. Adelisa . . .” Lambelin hesitated.
“I’m expendable,” Ash said.
The queen gasped. “You’re my daughter, and you’re not expendable. You are both equally valuable to me. But I cannot trust anyone outside this room.”
“I understand,” Ash said slowly, and she did. She didn’t like it. She didn’t have any idea how to go about making friends with the daughters of traitors. But she understood why it was necessary to get the information. And why it was necessary that the queen obey the law before she made any accusations. The kingdom would have a revolution on its hands if she didn’t.
“I never wanted to get my daughter involved in this. I didn’t want you to get involved either,” Queen Aveline told Splinter. She picked up a butter knife and squeezed it hard enough that all the thin fencing scars on her hands shone white. “But since Lambelin convinced me your presence could be a boon, Adelisa’s safety is your responsibility too.”
Splinter nodded. “I’ll protect her, your majesty.”
The queen smiled at Splinter’s fervor, and it softened the lines of her face. “Stay by her side. Keep your eyes and ears open. And serve loyally, as I would expect from one of Evana’s children.”
