“There, there, pretty boy.” Small but firm and calloused hands ran through Nikolai’s hair. “Can’t handle a drink, can you?” The lord glared up at the young woman but she merely chuckled, finding the response amusing.
Her brows quirked up mischievously.
Nikolai grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his mouth. He felt a pair of curious eyes on him. Sighing, he glanced over at the maid.
Meeting his gaze, she winked brazenly at him. Her amber eyes glowed with mirth.
Nikolai faltered. What was wrong with her?
The maid sighed happily. She twisted in her seat and patted at her pockets. “Do not fear marriage, young lord. It is a natural order of the world.” She peered at him. “Surely, there is someone that you wish to marry and make your lady, as well?”
Nikolai cleared his throat. “No. Not at the moment,” he admitted. The Lord of Feldgrau had always resigned himself to an arranged marriage. Even when he was a prince, such were the way for things. Love and sentiments never equated with matrimony in his mind. He froze. Why did he reveal that to her?
“A pity then,” the maid shook her head. “Your future wife will be very fortunate.”
Nikolai did not know what to make of the sentence. His usual sharp tongue was lost on him. “Your husband as well,” he offered lamely. However, he found it hard to picture any man being able to successfully woo and pursue the young woman. If anything it would be the maid doing the choosing and proposing.
“Ah, well I am to be married to a fool,” said the maid. She rummages through her pockets for something. “But he is said to be a noble fool, and for that I am grateful.” She shot him an amused look.
Nikolai grabbed the jug into his grasp once more. He couldn’t get her teasing look out of his head. He demonstrated a proper sip. “So, your general is marrying into Feldgrau?” The lord paused, voice lowering into a murmur. “You must be very close to them to know such a secret.” His cold eyes pierced into her as if trying to decipher a mystery.
The young woman’s eye widened, bulging to a worrying size. It was her turn to splutter. She sprung to her feet. The veil shook with all the frantic movement, slightly sliding off her face, revealing her slightly flushed cheeks.
Nikolai tensed. Had he pressed too far? The young man’s grip on his jug tightened.
Crossing her arms across her chest, the maid shrunk in on herself. The young woman looked horrified. “Was that not common knowledge?” She rubbed her face and groaned loudly. The maid began to curse in another language.
Nikolai suddenly found two strong hands on his shoulders. He stared questioningly at the weird woman.
“Sir, we are acquaintances now, aren’t we?” The bright amber eyes stared down at him, fierce and bright.
Titling his head, the lord tried for a half-shrug. “I suppose so…” He leaned forward subtly. “Why do you ask?”
The young woman burst into a grateful smile. She opened her mouth to speak.
“Hey! Who’s the one with the twenty jugs of ale tab?”
All eyes turned to the owner of the bar who had just stormed down the stairs.
The barkeeper shivered but pointed at the maid. She gulped. Hands dropping to her pockets, her fingers grasped air.
“Uh, well good sir,” tried the maid. “It seems I am low on coin right now, but if you add it to my tab, I will-“
“You think I run this establishment by letting everyone off with a tab?” The owner raised a chubby fist in the air. He pointed an accusing finger at the woman. “What type of scoundrel are you? Trying to drink me out of my own house?”
Although her shoulders were still set in a proud stance, the maid rubbed the back of her neck. She laughed sheepishly. “It was not my intention to do so, sir-”
“Then pay now!” roared the owner. He raised his pudgy hands in the air.
The barkeeper murmured apologies behind his angry boss, but it was no use.
The furious man gestured towards the line of empty jugs beside the young woman. “Don’t just stand there. Pay up!” He clenched his fists in frustration. “Come on, I’m not the villain here! I want to go to the moon festival with my kids and you two fools are the last ones to leave!”
The two, quite in sync, turned to look around. It was true, they were the last ones in the bar.
Nikolai held his face in his hands. “Sir, if you-”
“Did you say it was the time of the moon festival?” Interrupted the young woman. For the first time since Nikolai met her, the maid’s words were serious. They were low and commanded an answer.
The barkeeper and owner shivered at the change in tone. It was like the maid had turned into a whole other person.
The owner scratched the tip of his nose. “Well, yeah…” he looked at the barkeeper to confirm. “Even the moon festival at the palace is set to start in half an hour.”
The young woman’s face took on a pale shade.
Nikolai took pause as well. That was right. The royal ball would be starting soon. No matter his current status, the Lord of Feldgrau would be expected to attend. He placed faith in his attendant. Cristin should be able to buy him some time.
A low voice suddenly brushed past his ears. The maid leaned in close to him.
“Dear acquaintance, I’m afraid I’ll have to repay you one day?” The words were practically a whisper. Sorrowful eyes stared into Nikolai’s confused ones. He raised a questioning eyebrow.
Nikolai couldn’t help the unsettling feeling settling in his gut. But before he could even ask what the maid meant, the young woman was already leaning back and turning to the barkeeper. The white silky cloths of her attire whirled around like a grand cape, swooshing in the air. The young woman strode forward, carrying a majestic and commanding air about her. She stalked forward with a confidence usually only found in the powerful.
The owner gulped. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.
“This is what we shall do,” she said.
The three men in the bar looked at her in confusion and curiosity. What was she going to do?
Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. Although they had just met, he caught the mischievous glint that flashed through her eyes.
The young maid placed a hand on her hip. She pointed down at Nikolai. “This man will take care of all my expenses.”
With that, she waved a hand in the air and yelled, “Farewell!” The maid happily turned and walked for the door.
As she turned to walk away, a tight grip and burning blue eyes halted her. The maid tilted her head.
“What do you mean I’ll take care of it?” gritted out the young man. Deep lines formed on his face as he clenched his teeth.
To his surprise, she merely smirked down at him. “You know what I mean.”
With a flick of her wrist, she disarmed his hold and strode past him.
Desperation surged through him. He needed the information on the general! What was the queen planning? Nikolai reached forward and yanked. But his fingers only caught on the strings of the veil.
The maid’s eyes widened, but even her reflexes weren’t fast enough to stop the cloth from falling.
For a moment, Nikolai stared at the furious but unveiled face staring angrily at him. It was like the dawn, expressive and unyielding. Her face was kissed by the sun and she had a stubborn and proud set to her jaw.
The young lord froze…. But the maid did not.
Suddenly, in a gust of force, the lord found himself pushed back. His back hit the table hard. The veil was snatched out of his grip. There was a loud slam of the door.
Nikolai gasped for breath.
The bar was silent once more.
Through the window, Nikolai followed the furious whirlwind that was the young woman as she ran down the street.
The lord righted himself, grunting at the pain. Those were going to bruise. But why had the maid been so secretive about her face? Suspicion nagged at him. Iliana was clearly not who she was claiming to be. But how did she know about the general’s marriage when not even Nikolai’s men had been able to gather a hint of it? Maybe she was no servant but a relative?
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Doubt curled in his mind. Unbidden, his hand fell to the dagger concealed at his side.
The information he had gathered, although vague, was of some use. He had to hurry back to the castle, something big was going to take place. He could feel it. The general’s marriage to Feldgrau was no small matter. Especially if it seemed to be common knowledge within the Wenge delegation.
“So,” a voice chirped cheerfully. “For the tab, will that be in coins or silver?”
Nikolai shot a sharp glare at the owner and barkeeper. The icy countenance bore no hint of the slight warmth that had previously been there. Steely eyes pinned down the two.
The men flinched back.
Internally, the lord sighed. He tried to remind himself of their innocence.
Without a word, a large pouch was set down on the counter. It was quickly picked up by the owner. He opened the straps to study its contents.
The owner gaped, suddenly feeling faint. The pouch was more than enough to buy his entire establishment, much less pay for some drinks! His eyes watered and he fell to his knees in gratitude. Who knew that today would be his lucky day?
He called out to the young man exiting his bar. “Thank you, kind sir! A good Morning Day to you!”
The young man merely continued to exit as if he had heard nothing at all.
A thought suddenly struck the owner. Who were those people? He turned to his barkeeper but the man reacted even faster.
“No idea, sir. No idea at all.”
—
“Lord and Lady Langard!” called the royal announcer. His bellowing voice carried to every corner of the room.
The ball was teeming with life as the most esteemed guests in the lands arrived for the celebrations of the moon festival. Even the servants were having a good time, sneaking in the leftover food and enjoying the music.
There was only one soul who was having possibly the worst time of their life.
Cristin cursed his liege under his breath. Where was the lord? He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, offering a nod to a random lord and a strained smile to another passing lady.
He was a soldier’s son. Despite the facade he played, Cristin wanted nothing more than to spit in the next lord that tried to pass false pleasantries with him. The man felt like bugs were itching under his skin, or maybe it was the stuffy attire he had been forced to wear. He was so uncomfortable. I’m not supposed to be here, he thought as he stared up at the giant ice sculpture that had just been brought in.
These people are idiots, he thought, as he watched a crowd of lords and ladies fawn over one another's coats while trying to prove their were the best. The man shuddered to think that being stuck with this group would have been the fate of his liege.
"Lord Cristin!" called a voice.
Cristin plastered on a smile and shoved down his discomfort. He turned and bowed deeply to the approaching figure. Taking the dainty, gloved hand, Cristin pressed a chaste kiss to the their gloved knuckles.
"You may rise, good sir," said the voice. There was a certain tone in it that bordered between amusement and annoyance.
Cristin straightened. But the man wisely kept his eyes down. Anything out of place or decorum could be considered an insult to the figure before him.
The ma had followed his lord to enough gatherings and noble travels throughout the years to gather a semblance of understanding for the nuances of royal rules and noble etiquette.
Cristin smiled softly. “Your Highness, what can this lowly one do for you?"
"Oh, you can drop the formalities, sir,” laughed the voice. “Please, I insist.”
Cristin nodded shortly and finally lifted his eyes.
Before him stood a woman, tall and spindly. She was adorned in a dark velvet as black as the night sky with red rubies embroidered into the cascading folds. The high collar framed her sharp face where beady eyes pierced into Cristin’s form.
The Queen Rewanna clasped her bony hands together. The silver tiara in her hair glistened in the magnificent lights of the ballroom. She smiled and tilted her head. "But if you could, please answer this one question for me."
Clenching his fists behind his back, Cristin voice was one of utter servitude and loyalty. "And what is it that you wish to know, my queen?"
The queen and the attendant had only met briefly when the Lord of Feldgrau and the woman happened to attend the same event. However, unlike those times, they were now fully in her territory.
Queen Rewana, the lady of Eburean and mother of the kingdom, stared cooly at the soldier's son turned noble.
"Where is my son?" She took a giant step forward, the height of her heels allowed her to stand at the same height as Cristin. She stared down at him. “Where is the Lord of Feldgrau?"
To everyone else, the right-hand man of the second prince was well at ease. He laughed good-naturedly and gestured around. "My leige is merely preparing himself after the long travel. Although he is late, the lord will be here shortly, my lady."
It was as if the man took no notice of the sudden quietness in the room as the different lords and ladies listened in, starving for the drama.
“It is the fault of this lowly one for not informing you earlier.” Cristin smiled widely, he leaned in as if to whisper, but his words echoed in the giant ballroom. “But I knew a caring mother such as yourself wouldn't deprive your son of the rest.” He leaned back. “Truly, Your Highness, it is admirable how you treat my lord like a son of your own blood.”
“Of… course,” Queen Rewanna froze imperceptibly.
The momentary lapse of control was only caught by Cristin, but the man smirked internally. For a woman that loved to hold her status as mother of the kingdom, and the second prince by extension, over all of their heads, she was also unable to make a move that would appear too "unmotherly".
Her smile fell and the caring facade fell away. "Take your lord to me the moment he arrives, boy."
With that, she turned away, the dark dress whirling behind her.
Cristin let out a breath of relief. They had bought some more time for now. His eyes shot to the door, praying that his lord would suddenly appear. But, alas.
The man shot another glance at the delicious line of food at the table. His stomach protested, it was so full! But… the stress won out. He took a step in the table’s direction.
"What's this about my elder brother?”
Cristin froze, muscles tensing as his body instinctively locked into its fight or flight mode. This was not good.
“How dare he be late to my ball?" A cocky voice echoed throughout the ballroom. Each word dripped with entitled arrogance and condescension.
Everyone gaped and stared at the third prince of the Eburean Kingdom. Queen Rewanna held a hand to her face but hid a devious smile under it.
Prince Argan, heir to the throne, stood imperiously from his place on top of the staircase. The grand staircase was reserved for royal entrances. The boy was barely on the cusp on manhood. In fact, this was the last year of his childhood. After the end of the year, the prince would be eligible to take over the throne from his father.
Cristin froze. It suddenly made sense. That was why Nikolai had returned to the capital.
“For years, my brother has rudely declined our invitation, and yet, now that he has accepted, he has the gall to not show up?”
The entire ballroom was silent, no one was bold enough to agree or disagree with the statement.
“Perhaps it is true that the vile borderlands have robbed him of the little intelligence he had left,” sneered the prince.
Cristin’s eyes flashed. The man clenched his fists, nails digging into the flesh. How dare the stupid prince- But he held himself back, aware of the royal guards stationed at every corner. The man could only lower his head to hide the hate burning in his eyes.
Prince Argan pointed an accusatory finger at Cristin. "My brother's servant. Answer my lady mother's question for all to hear! Where is the Lord of Feldgrau?"
Cristin breathed in shakily. He shot one last glance at the entrance, but it was empty. He sighed, “I’m afraid he is not here yet, my prince.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “As I was informing the queen, the Lord of Feldgrau had a long-“
“Did I tell you to make excuses for my pathetic brother?” snapped the prince.
Argan stormed down the stairs. The haughty lift of his head and the perpetual sneer stuck on his face, really made one long to punch him. Any charm Argan possessed was overshadowed by the disdainful glint in his eye and the cruel and sharp words that often came from his mouth.
Cristin got to his knees. “Apologies, Your Highness”
“It’s your Royal Highness,” fumed the prince. He crossed his arms and smirked. There was a hint of familiarity to Nikolai in the shape of his nose and the curve of his forehead, but otherwise the two brothers were like night and day.
Although Nikolai had a cold countenance, he was sharp and hid a caring heart for those he considered under his care. He was a man who inspired loyalty and faith in his decisions. One followed him because they could.
Those that followed Argan, did it because they had no other choice.
Bowing his head, Cristin remained silent.
“My father has always upheld the values of tradition and he would have punished my brother for his tardiness.” Argan sighed dramatically. “I suppose since both my father and brother are not in attendance, it is only fair for I to deal the ruling.” His smirk grew into an eager smile, full of vindictive pettiness. “And for you to take the punishment.”
The crowd of lords and ladies shifted uncomfortably as they glanced at one another.
An idea suddenly sprung into the prince’s mind. “However,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I will release you of this duty if you pledge yourself to me instead.” He smiled excitedly. “If you’re not my brother’s man, you don’t have to take the punishment."
"That’s fair, isn’t it?” Argan turned to the room, "Isn't it?" Those he met eyes with, nodded urgently and tried for smiles.
In the back of the room, a new group of guests entered the ballroom. Their leader was dressed in a dark royal blue. The material was ceremonial and the long material of the beautifully embroidered fabric reached the floor. They wore a golden mask, carved with feathers. The metal had been melded into the shape of a raven’s head. It sat perfectly on their face, leaving only a pursed mouth in view. The new group watched the interaction in silence. The royal announcer’s eyes had been so glued to the dramatic scene that he did not notice their entrance. By the time he did, the masked figure waved for his silence, their own eyes were trained on the Crown Prince and the servant with rapt attention.
Unbeknownst to the group, the Crown Prince smirked, reveling in the power he felt over the kneeling man. It was a heady feeling.
But to the crowd’s surprise, the man kneeling on the ground did not cower in fear or beg for mercy.
Suddenly, there was the muffled sound of laughter.
The queen frowned, expression darkening.
Cristin let out a low chuckle. Did this brat truly think such words were enough to cow him?
Lifting his eyes to meet the prince’s, he relished in the flash of uncertainty in the other's eyes. He shrugged, “Do what you will, prince.”
Behind the title was nothing more than a boy who feared not measuring up to his worthy brother.
Cristin’s dark eyes gleamed as he took delight in the fear and anger in the Crown Prince’s eyes. The intelligence master’s words echoed in the ballroom.
“My loyalty is to the Lord of Feldgrau.”
There was a beat of silence.
“How dare you!” An angry scream came from the Crown Prince. Fury colored his eyes.
In a swift motion, he grabbed a guard’s sword and stormed towards a defiant Cristin, blade first. "I'll kill you, traitor!"