“The main thing is to make certain he stays still as much as possible.”

Like I can move much in this tiny stall.

The veterinarian continued, “We don’t want his legs developing proud flesh. I’ll make sure the grooms and stablehands keep him under constant observation.”

Pheh. I don’t need those hacks watching over me.

“He’ll stay still, don’t worry,” Rudiger said.

The veterinarian nodded. “Constant observation is important nevertheless.”

Oh no, it isn’t.

“Trust me,” Rudiger said. “Added observation’ll make him more likely to move about. Don’t worry, he understands his situation and is too vain to risk what proud flesh will do to his appearance.”

The veterinarian shook his head. “Vain he may be, but I’m afraid you horse owners often ascribe greater intelligence to your animals than they actually have. Believe me, he doesn’t understand, and is likely to move about, especially if the wounds start to itch. He will be monitored. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on the dogs.”

Can I bite him?

No. Rudiger patted the veterinarian’s arm. “I understand. Thank you.”

The elderly man nodded and headed off.

Hang closed the stall door behind the vet. “I don’t mind helping watch him.”

It wouldn’t have been a hard bite. Just enough to show him I meant business.

Rudiger rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m being serious,” Hang said. “I’m willing to help. I can come by when I’m off duty, check up on him. Make sure the stablehands aren’t bothering him.”

Rudiger smiled. “Just messing with you. I’m happy to have you help.” One day, he would master handling silent conversations with Borisin while other people were around.

No you won’t, Borisin said and laughed—which came out as a series of short snorts.

Cotton flannel standing wraps covered all four of Borisin’s lower legs. Cloth wrapped over his back, and around and under his belly held additional dressings in place. To most people, he probably looked awful, but as long as those wounds remained uninfected, he’d be fine.

Gonna have some ugly scars, buddy, Rudiger said.

Nah, nothing can spoil my natural allure. A few extra scars just add to the appeal. I could use a brushing though. My tail feels like it’s full of tangles. My mane too.

Rudiger smirked. Borisin was right.

Of course I am.

His tail and mane could use a good brushing. Give me a moment. He placed his hand on top of the horse’s head, between the ears. I’m just glad you’re okay, buddy. “Hang, can you grab me a brush?”

He turned to see that Hang had sprung to attention.

Prince Malef stood at the stall door. Behind him were two guards, and off to the side stood Prince Pastrin and a slender man with curly blonde hair Rudiger didn’t recognise. Rudiger hurriedly bowed. “Sorry, your Highness. I didn’t notice your approach.”

You’ve never been good at paying attention to your surroundings.

You could have warned me.

Nah, funnier this way.

Prince Malef waved his hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it. I didn’t announce my presence. He looks a fine horse. May I look at him more closely.”

Rudiger straightened up. “Of course, your Highness.” Let him.

Do I have to? He wanted to have me put down after the fight.

Hang was already unhooking the rope to open the door and let the Prince in.

Yes, Rudiger said.

“Sergeant Merrin,” the Prince said. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Rudiger’s a friend, your Highness,” Hang said. “I’m spending off-duty time with him.”

The Prince nodded. “At ease.” He entered the stall. Borisin snorted, spraying spit and phlegm over the front of Malef’s jerkin and silk doublet.

Rudiger groaned. “Sorry, your Highness. He’s a bit grumpy at the moment. Probably pain from the wounds.” I said let him!

You’re no fun.

Malef took a handkerchief from his pocket and began wiping his jerkin. “Think nothing of it. I’ve been around many horses in my time. They can be stubborn beasts, and they refuse to recognise things like rank and class.” The Prince looked at Rudiger and smiled. There was a bit of phlegm clinging to his bushy moustache. “I’ll live with the indignity.”

“Uh, your Highness, you have…” Rudiger gestured to his own upper lip.

Malef raised an eyebrow. After a moment, he broke into a wider smile. “Of, course.” He dabbed at his moustache with the handkerchief. “How embarrassing.”

I think it’s pretty hilarious. The least he deserved for wanting me dead!

Malef turned his attention back to Borisin, moving alongside the horse from his head to his rump. “Good form and musculature. A few old scars, I see. Combat trained?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

The Prince returned to the stall door and faced Rudiger again. “I saw you arrive with Quilla and I understand you were with Felitïa earlier in the year—just before that nasty business with the Volgs—but I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” He held out his hand and forearm. “Malef.”

“Rudiger Fonivan.” He grasped the Prince’s forearm just below the elbow, and the Prince did likewise to his. Rudiger bent over so that the Prince could reach his face. Then Malef leaned in and kissed each of Rudiger’s cheeks. Rudiger did the same back.

Malef released his grip and stood back. “Your horse is obviously well trained, Rudiger. He leapt to my sister’s defence without hesitation. I am most grateful.”

Yeah? So why did you order me put down?

A chuckle turned their attention to the other men present.

“Excuse me if I’m wrong, Malef,” the blonde man said, “but I heard you ordered the horse slaughtered at first.” He had a wide grin on his face.

You tell him, whoever you are!

Prince Malef flushed and looked away. “Yes, I was...well, I was hoping that wouldn’t come up.” He looked back at Rudiger. “I suppose you were bound to hear of it though, Rudiger, and I apologise. I did not yet know the full details of the situation—only that your horse had killed many of my dogs. I was distraught and, in my distress, I acted inappropriately. Thankfully, Annai set me straight.”

Rudiger had already heard the story while he and Zandrue had been at Princess Annai’s apartments last night. “That’s all right, your Highness. I understand.”

No! No, you do not understand! This guy wanted to kill me! Borisin snorted, spraying more spittle onto the Prince’s sleeve.

With a sigh, the Prince retrieved his handkerchief again and dabbed at his sleeve. “Perhaps we should move out of the stall.” Without waiting for Rudiger to respond, he walked out of the stall.

Rudiger followed him, then Hang, who closed the stall door.

I can still stick my head over and get him again, you know.

“Rudiger, may I introduce my brother, Pastrin?”

Rudiger took Pastrin’s forearm and they exchanged kisses to the cheeks.

“This degenerate is Nedwin Friaz.” Despite Malef’s words, both he and Nedwin were grinning.

Once again, Rudiger performed the greeting routine. “I’m honoured, your Highnesses, my Lord.” He hadn’t expected meeting the princes to go so well. It bothered him Hang was being ignored, though.

“This lord, as you call him, Rudiger, always seems to be where my brother is.” Malef slapped Nedwin’s shoulder. “We can’t seem to get rid of him.”

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Nedwin put an arm around Pastrin’s shoulders. He was considerably taller, so it was more like he put his arm over Pastrin’s shoulders. “I’m his best friend, aren’t I, Pastrin?”

“That’s right,” Pastrin said and Nedwin ruffled the Prince’s shoulder-length brown hair.

“Ha!” Malef spun around and put an arm around Rudiger. “That’s what they call it. Best friends.” He chuckled and leaned in conspiratorially at Rudiger. “They’re not fooling anyone, least of all the Queen—or your cousin, Ned.”

Nedwin smirked. “You think I care what that fat slob thinks?”

Malef chuckled and let go of Rudiger. He looked back at Borisin.

Don’t even think of putting your arm around me.

“At any rate, I just wanted to see the horse for myself. Thank you for allowing me that opportunity, Rudiger.”

“My pleasure, your Highness.”

Borisin snorted again, but didn’t hit the Prince. I am getting really tired of this sucking up to royalty. Do not expect me to let him ride me!

Malef motioned to the guards. “We will return to the Palace now.” He paused a moment, then turned to Rudiger. “Tell me, Rudiger, do you play billiards?”

* * * * *

The singing from the other side of the door was clear even before Zandrue reached it. It wasn’t very good singing. The singer—whoever it was—had a breathy quality to her voice. Not surprisingly, she was taking a lot of breaths. She was not in tune with the harpsichord, either.

Zandrue waited for the song to end. She adjusted the thin silver necklace she was wearing so that its bear ornament rested just above her breasts. Her hands went to her ears, which still ached. She stopped just short of touching the light earrings in her newly pierced lobes. Ebry had cautioned her not to touch them for a while. She wasn’t used to wearing earrings. They were too much of a hazard in a scrape, particularly if they dangled, which these did a little. Gods, she hoped she didn’t get an infection.

A round of light applause and cheers signalled the conclusion of the song, and Zandrue nodded to the attendant at the door to let her in.

The young woman who’d been with Annai a couple days ago stood, mid-curtsy, beside the harpsichord in the centre of the room. Annai herself stood on the opposite side of the harpsichord, smiling and clapping. Another woman sat on the harpsichord’s bench. At the far side of the room, seated in plush chairs along the wall, under a painting of Felitïa’s grandmother and namesake, were several people. Although they were all clapping, the one in the centre was the most flamboyant in his praise, holding his hands well out in front of himself, and clapping them together as loud as he could.

“That was stunning, my dear, simply stunning. Your best yet.”

“Thank you, Father,” the singer said.

Zandrue strode across the large room. The applause died down, and people’s eyes moved to her.

Annai came around in a large circle to avoid her wide skirts getting tangled in the legs and bench of the harpsichord. “You’re late.”

The singer crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Zandrue.

Zandrue curtsied, allowing the skirts of her gown to spread wider on the floor. “My apologies, your Highness. I was held up by more questioning about the events of yesterday. I wanted to be as precise as possible in my responses to give them the best chance of finding the assassin.”

Annai fanned herself with the same fan she had been using a couple days ago. It still matched the colour of her current gown, even though the gown was not the same one as last time. Although her current gown was the purple colour of mourning, it was a much more extravagant ensemble than what she had worn the last couple days. Not only were its skirts wide enough to make Zandrue wonder how Annai fit through doorways, its sleeves puffed out nearly as wide.

“In that case, I forgive you,” Annai said.

The singer’s scowl deepened.

“To be honest, I’m glad you’re the one who has to deal with all the questioning. Any time I so much as think about yesterday’s events, I start to feel faint. I’m feeling faint as we speak.” She swooned a little and fanned herself some more. When she was close enough to Zandrue that their skirts touched, she held out her hand.

Zandrue had to stretch to reach Annai’s hand over the combined distance of their skirts, but she managed to take hold of the Princess’s hand.

Annai leaned in just a little. “Thank you for being there for me this morning after my meeting with Mother. I’m not used to being the subject of her anger.”

Although Annai had spoken a little more softly, she was not quiet enough to stop those nearest from hearing, as the singer’s lips and nose quivered.

Annai spun around, still keeping hold of Zandrue’s hand. “Zandrue, let me introduce you to everyone.” She indicated the singer. “This gorgeous, but thin thing is my dearest friend and cousin, Tianna. We’re as close as sisters.”

Tianna gave Zandrue a closed-mouth smile, scrunching her freckled cheeks.

Tianna.

Now Zandrue remembered why she was familiar. She was the one Annai had used to embarrass Felitïa at the banquet thrown to celebrate Felitïa’s return. She was one to pay attention to.

“At the harpsichord is my cousin Laänne.”

The harpsichordist gave Zandrue a more natural smile, her cheeks dimpling.

Annai leaned in a little again. “She’s a darling, but a little dim.”

Laänne’s smile fell to a frown.

Annai led Zandrue past Tianna and Laänne towards the far side of the room, stopping only halfway there. “Over here, we have Tianna’s father and one of my mother’s most trusted advisors, Barnol Friaz.”

The man who had been clapping so loudly when Zandrue had arrived nodded to her. “Forgive me for not getting up to greet you properly, Miss Armida.” He slapped his leg, which jiggled noticeably through the stretched hose he wore. “Unfortunately, my leg is giving me terrible problems today. I can’t stand or walk without support, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to give some offence.”

“Not at all, my Lord,” Zandrue said. “I take no offence.”

“The woman beside him is his wife and Tianna’s mother, Betta.”

Annai continued to introduce the remaining people, and Zandrue did her best to commit their names and appearances to memory. She wished she could get closer to them to get a note of their scents, but she suspected that wasn’t going to happen. They were all wearing too much perfume anyway. She had managed to get Annai’s scent earlier today while comforting her. Annai had let Zandrue get close enough to distinguish the Princess’s natural scent from the perfumes she wore. She would need to get Tianna’s scent too, somehow.

When the introductions were over, Annai led Zandrue back over to the harpsichord and beside Tianna. She let go of Zandrue’s hand, and Zandrue lowered her arm to her side. It was now aching almost as much as her ears.

Annai circled back to where she’d been standing when Zandrue arrived. “Do you sing, Zandrue?”

“Not much, your Highness. Certainly not as well as Tianna here. I heard the end of her song just before I entered the room.” She smiled at Tianna. “You have a beautiful singing voice.”

Tianna’s lip twitched. “That’s very kind of you to say, Zandrue.”

“She’s only stating fact, my dear,” Barnol Friaz said.

“What are you going to sing for us, Zandrue?” Laänne asked.

“Oh, you don’t want to hear me sing, not after Tianna’s wonderful performance.” While Tianna’s performance hadn’t been very good, Zandrue couldn’t remember the last time she’d sung anything without being drunk at the same time. Her own abilities didn’t rate very high.

“I’m afraid, Zandrue,” Annai said, “we’re expected to sing at these little concerts. Since you were unfashionably late—good reason or not—you should go next, wouldn’t you agree, Tianna, Laänne?”

“Oh yes,” the two women replied together.

“I’m not sure what to sing,” Zandrue said.

“Do you know The Hallows of Aust?” Laänne played a small bit of melody on the harpsichord.

Zandrue shook her head. “Sorry.”

“How about The Flower and the Earl?” Again, Laänne played a bit of melody.

“That sounds familiar,” Zandrue said. “But I know it as The Princess and the Squirrel.”

Laänne looked at her blankly.

Zandrue shrugged. “Lyrics often change from place to place. It’s hard to keep track of them all.”

“Your lower-class roots are showing, Zandrue.” Annai rolled her eyes. “Very well. Sing the version you know.”

“Of course, your Highness.” Zandrue looked at Laänne. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Laänne began to play and Zandrue to sing. Her voice was rough and she wished she’d had a chance to warm up before singing, but overall, she felt it went well. At the very least, it wasn’t terrible.

When she finished, she was greeted by enthusiastic applause from most people there. Barnol Friaz was clapping slowly and frowning. His wife’s clapping was much more vigorous. Tianna was scowling again, while Laänne was clapping and smiling.

“Oh, that was very good!” Laänne said.

Annai was clapping too. “It was good, Zandrue. You shouldn’t be so shy about singing. You have a lovely contralto.”

“Potential, certainly,” Barnol Friaz said as Annai circled round to Zandrue again. “However, you shouldn’t praise just because of potential. Too much praise too early will stunt development. If you’d truly like to see Miss Armida reach her potential, you should be honest about the weaknesses in her performance. No offence, of course, Miss Armida, but—”

“Oh hush, cousin. I am quite satisfied with Zandrue’s performance.” As Annai reached Zandrue, she leaned closer in that same way that wasn’t very close and spoke in that quiet way that wasn’t very quiet. “The lyrics were a little raunchy for a public performance like this though. Better saved for more private occasions, I think. But we can worry about that later.”

She turned and addressed the small audience. “I will perform next. I will be singing The Rage of Martan. Laänne, I hope you’ve been practising.”

“I am ready, your Highness.”

As Annai began to sing, Zandrue moved over beside Tianna. She smiled at the young woman, and Tianna’s lips twitched again.

Tianna leaned over to Zandrue and whispered, “I know what you’re up to, and you won’t get away with it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zandrue whispered back, keeping her eyes on Annai instead of Tianna.

“There have been others like you, trying to steal her affections away, but they never succeed. Neither will you. I’m her favourite.”

“That’s fine. I’m not looking to be her favourite. Just one of the gang, like Laänne.”

“That’s what they all say. Even Laänne covets my position.”

“Fine. I told you, I’m not looking to displace you.”

“You won’t.”

Zandrue sighed. Oh, the joy of politics.

Tianna remained silent for the next few minutes as Annai continued her lengthy song about Martan the Conqueror. However, when she reached the sustained high note at the Dragon’s execution, Tianna leaned over again and whispered, “I’ve heard a rumour that your friend—the one Sinitïa’s probably gone to find—is a Drago.”

Zandrue glanced at her. “So?” That was information they had not been advertising, though Meleng had never been one to go out of his way to hide it either.

“Just thought it was interesting that he’s related to the Dragon, don’t you?”

“Not really. It’s been two hundred years. There will be lots of descendants of the Dragon by now. I hear he liked the ladies.”

“Perhaps.”

Annai’s song came to an end, and the audience erupted in applause.

“Magnificent!” Barnol Friaz said.

Tianna ran up to Annai as close as she could get. “Oh, that was marvellous, Annai! So much better than my weak contribution. I’ve never heard you sing it so well.”

Zandrue remained back, but made sure to be clapping with as much enthusiasm as everyone else. She was tempted to try to usurp Tianna’s position as favourite, but there was really no need for that. It would be better to have Tianna as an ally than an enemy.

Annai looked back at her, and Zandrue extended her arms and clapped with even more vigour. “I had no idea you could sing so well, your Highness! It was truly astonishing!” It helped that Annai actually was a good singer.

“Thank you, Zandrue. I’m so glad you liked it.”

The audience—including Barnol Friaz, whose leg had apparently miraculously healed—were coming up to Annai now. Zandrue snatched a cup of wine from the tray of a passing servant.

This was going well.