The Charlatan

Chapter One

Chapter One

When the closet doors opened to an array of black cloth, two herb balls dropped from the bottom shelf to the floor. I inhaled, the familiar scent of bergamot and thyme and lavender reminding me of my father in a wave of remorse.

He was dead, and the more I reminded myself, the less I would hurt every time I saw something of his. Or smelled it.

My brother Barclay had neglected to clean out our father's possessions, holing himself up in his rooms and refusing to speak to anyone including his young wife and myself. I gave him his time alone, knowing he was my father's favored and the loss was harder on him. I had lost my father years ago, when the King first sired me as the Kingdoms only lady knight.

It was hard to be the best of not only all the women in the realm, but also all the men, and without the support of my father it was more difficult.

But the old man was gone, and I was his champion, and my brother, his favorite, would assume control of his estates here at Ainsley. And here I was in his closet, looking for a suitable shirt to wear to his interment. It was hard to choose, knowing my brother and his wife and my younger siblings would recognize our father's shirt on my back. But I had no other choice, allowed here only for the ceremony, and not to grieve, the King and his war games more important then my loss.

I clenched a fist at the thought of the king I was sworn to protect, and then shook my head and snatched a shirt from it's hook, taking it to my rooms.

I missed Tandy, my hand maiden. She would have been behind me with gentle hands and a soft tongue, smoothing my anger into peaceful remission, telling me none of this would matter soon, and in the morning we would be well on our way home.

But she wasn't here, and to my back was only the cool hard stone of my room's walls, and the smell of lavender and herbs to mock me. The shirt was large, but I tucked it into my breeches and bent to wipe the road dust off my boots. Far away the tolling of church bells signaled it was time to be on my way, and I sighed, knowing it was time.

"Are you ready?" I asked my brother Barclay as he met me in the hall. His face was dark and his eyes heavy, and I wanted to hug him, like a sister should. But we had stopped being brother and sister long ago, and now I knew a clap on the shoulder would mean the same.

"I'm ready, let us get this over with," he said to me, not meeting my gaze.

Barclay was handsome even in grief, with dark eyes and black hair that curled around his face. He was dark skinned like our father and myself, and tall, taller then me by a hand. I tried to smile, hoping he would hold up long enough to speak for our father and family. But his eyes glazed over when he finally looked at me, and I threw all our pretenses to the wind, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders.

"Barclay, it's going to be alright," I told him, and he grunted and cleared his throat, not wrapping his arms around me in return. He had always been stiff, but fiercely loyal and more then a brother to me at times.

I let him go, but he was looking past me, over my shoulder and I turned to see what had caught his attention.

Behind us standing awkwardly was a young boy, covered in dust and hay, wringing his hands nervously in front of him.

"Speak, boy," I ordered him, smiling with the corners of my mouth as he stammered out his message.

"Sir, Lady," he bowed his head, "The King requests that you return to Alden immediately. He requires your service against the North." He had been addressing me but I could hardly believe my ears, and I waved him away with a flick of my wrist, deciding his message must have been a badly timed joke. Barclay looked unconvinced, and we made to walk passed the boy and out to our horses where the family was waiting.

"No, your grace," the boy persisted, and he stepped in front of me, holding his hands out in front of him. "The King insists, my Lady, he demands that you return...now."

"Before my own father is even in the ground?" I asked him, becoming annoyed by this joke and it's jester. In all fairness the boy looked just as uncomfortable, and I realized it was probably not his choice to come from the castle at Alden to the countryside to deliver me a message.

He nodded at my question and I looked to Barclay, who shrugged and then eyed the boy. "Your King demands this of my sister?" he asked, his voice deep and strong like the growl of a bear. The boy looked up at him in fear and repeated his message.

"I'm not going," I told him, making my decision before either of them had finished speaking. I walked out towards the horses, where Barclay's wife and children and my youngest brother Leighton were waiting. "Tell the King I refused to come. And here," I turned and flipped the boy a coin from my belt. "That's for the trouble you'll be in."

Barclay looked in surprise from the boy and then to me, and the boy stood there with wide eyes and an open mouth, the coin shining by his feet.

The choice I had just made meant certain death.