The Queen of Grass and Tree (Southwind Knights #2)

Chapter Three, Part 3

The throne room emptied. The table was cleared by the servants, the mess taken back to the kitchens. Before Asher had time to process what had happened, the Keller found him and cornered him against a wall.

“You!” she said. “Spilling water on the Queen!” Quiet laughter broke out nearby. “You do not go near the kitchens from now on.” She took a breath. “Princess Hannah has informed me that her handmaiden is ill. You will substitute for the remainder of the day.”

Asher gaped. “Handmaiden?”

But the Keller snapped him into action. “Go!”

He found the Princesses departing the tower for the next stop in their daily tutelage: combat training. They were to learn to fight as well as they dressed. When Hannah kindly instructed him to carry her leaden trunk of equipment, he began to suspect that her usual handmaiden was not sick.

“No carts,” Hannah insisted. “As there are no carts in battle.”

Asher found himself hauling her trunk through the Pretty, trailing the two Princesses and their armed escort. Miriam’s handmaiden walked with her mistress, empty-handed. As he thought about it, Asher couldn’t remember them towing anything into the Institute the day before. The girls went ahead lightly, laughing as they entered the marble halls.

With only a little fanfare, they passed through the entrance and into the stairway down which Asher had seen the girls disappear previously. The passage sloped down and around, opening up into the wide, green courtyard that was the Institute’s training grounds. The bulk of the arena was combat space: jousting lanes and sparring circles were carved into the grass. Private services were present in a row of side-stalls, including an armory, a Fletcher, and a forge. The lawn was encircled by a dirt track, and horse stables lined the far end of the yard.

Asher kept an eye out for Finn. Pages ran here and there, tending to horses, carrying lances, suiting up soldiers; there were squires training but no Finn. He wondered how many of the men here were Knights.

Sir Jerrold approached them, accompanied by a yellow-haired young man whose skin looked as soft as the Princesses’, in spite of the combat gear he sported. They bowed.

“My Ladies,” Jerrold said.

“Sir Jerrold,” Miriam said, tipping her head. And to the young man, “Squire.”

“Ready to get the pretty knocked from your faces, my dears?” Jerrold grinned. “Lionel has been waiting to exact revenge for yesterday.”

“I would rather learn to keep the peace than to fight,” Miriam said.

“Ah,” Sir Jerrold said. “But sometimes fighting is the only way to keep the peace!”

“I disagree.” Miriam curled her lip, but Hannah smiled.

“Sir Jerrold?” she said. “If you please, I’ve brought a new sparring partner—just as a warm-up, of course. Step forward, maiden.” She beckoned to Asher. He paused, hunched over the trunk.

The Exemplar looked Asher over, then turned to Lionel for his consent.

The squire laughed. “Of course, Princess. She’ll do well.”

“Thank you.” Hannah curtsied.

Their escort remained at the passage entrance as the Ladies and Asher were led onto the grass. The trunk, it turned out, was full of bulky, antiquated armor that he was forced to strap on. The weight of it was staggering. Already exhausted from the trip over, he could barely lift the dull practice sword they gave him.

Hannah circled him in their sparring ring. He didn’t dare attack her, and for a quarter hour she knocked him around like a pile of hay, much to the amusement of Lionel and his fellows. Once she deemed him sufficiently humiliated, he was relieved of the armor and told to sit and watch the rest of training.

Hannah was paired with Lionel, Miriam with another squire, and they went hard. The training was not play, and the Ladies were treated the same as everyone else. Sir Jerrold paced the lawn, preaching lessons of physical balance, constant awareness, how to take advantage of size and speed. Asher found himself listening closely.

While Miriam managed to hold her own, Hannah was good—too good. She knew how to use her smaller size, and she danced around Lionel, toying with him.

“Constant awareness!” she mocked, thumping the flat of her blade between his guarded eyes.

Not gently, she bested the squire again and again. Asher noted with satisfaction that Lionel and his friends had stopped laughing. After a few rounds, a brief interlude was called. Hannah turned away from her opponent and shouted to Asher.

“Boy! Water.”

Boy was an upgrade, at least. He stood to fetch the Princess a cup, but as he turned he saw Lionel sneak up behind her. Sir Jerrold was busy with Miriam, and before Asher could decide whether or not to warn Hannah, the squire clubbed her in the back of the leg, whispering, “Constant awareness!”

She fell to her knees, a dainty cry escaping her lips. Asher thought that he would be glad to see her humbled, but he only felt a rising anger at the arrogant squire.

Then a servant boy, older and larger than most, appeared behind Lionel, much as the squire had come up on Hannah. Asher—and everyone else—failed to notice him until too late. The servant bore a long, dung-clodded shovel, and he held it high. His own face was smeared with grime. He had red hair. It was Finn.

He hammered the shovel’s head into Lionel’s helm. With a pop, the young man staggered, and Finn swung the shovel around, sweeping his feet and sending him down in a clattering heap of armor. Finn spit on the squire and stepped forward to the fallen Princess. He reached out to her with a black-smeared hand.

As she wrinkled her face and backed away, a sword pommel to the side of the head put Finn groaning in the grass. The Princesses’ guards had been quick on their feet.

Asher ran forward, and Hannah looked almost hopeful until he crouched by Finn. The rest of the yard caught on to what had happened, and the clashing of steel was replaced by the rustle of gossip.

“Seize him!” Sir Jerrold cried, and Asher began to understand what Finn had done.

They grabbed Finn under the arms and hauled him to his feet. The Knight Exemplar came up, puffing his chest. Miriam followed, face full of concern.

“In the name of the Queen!” Jerrold said. “Take him to the dungeons. Add him to the morning lineup.”

They meant to hang him.

“Dungeons?” Asher said.

“Are you all right, Princess?” Jerrold said, going to Hannah.

They thought Finn had meant to harm her. Asher panicked. “He only meant to help! Ask her!”

Finn’s eyes refocused enough to allow for shaky contact with Asher.

Asher turned to Hannah. “Tell them!”

Lionel groaned on his face, and Hannah said nothing, her pink lips kept shut as they dragged Finn away.

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