Reuben walked through the castle feeling conspicuous. He wore his new tunic, chain, helm, and sword. He grimaced when it came time to put the helmet on. The cuts still hurt from the last one he had worn. But his new helm felt nothing like that. He had no wadding, no need to stuff rags around his head. It fit snug, felt good, and lacked the narrow visor that had left him nearly blind. His new uniform gave him confidence. So did the sword, now that he knew at least enough not to look stupid whenever he drew it. He was not about to win any Wintertide ribbons, but he might make someone think twice before taking a swing. And he suspected that was the majority of a guard’s job—intimidation. He wondered if he could get Mauvin to show him more. He liked to think the Pickerings, if not the prince himself, genuinely liked him, but Reuben liked to think a lot of things.
He wanted to think there was nothing strange going on and that his father had a perfectly reasonable explanation for being drunk in the middle of the day—the day of a major castle event, when all guards were expected to be at their finest. He wanted to think that Rose was no longer in danger, that his father had picked his uniform off the floor and was, at that very minute, taking action to apprehend the assassins plotting to kill the king. He also liked to believe the squires would no longer bother him, now that he was a full-fledged Essendon castle guard, or if that wasn’t the case, that his new training, and new friends, would help keep him safe. He liked to think he would now command respect from everyone, including his father. And he liked to think—
He saw a flash of burgundy gown and paused at the stairs next to the fancy suits of armor. Turning, he saw it was only Lady Drundiline, the queen’s secretary. He should have realized. The princess would be in her chambers, still dressing up the way she always did for celebrations. Her hair piled, showing her long neck, and she would have a new gown he guessed. She almost always did, and recently the queen had allowed her to wear lower necklines. Nothing like what Rose came dressed in, but less childlike than she used to wear. The king and queen were starting to show off their daughter, positioning her for the eventual marriage that would be arranged.
Reuben liked to pretend that Arista wouldn’t be forced to wed. That she wasn’t going to leave Medford for some far-off castle where he would never see her again, but she was almost thirteen. It wouldn’t be long now. Just thinking of it hurt, and that one thought stole all the happiness that his uniform and new prince-gifted sword had granted. All the dread he had unloaded when he told his father about Rose was replaced with what felt like a pending execution date. Vague and hazy, it loomed in front of him. Except death was far too indefinable to truly fear. Reuben couldn’t imagine being dead, but he could imagine walking those halls knowing there was no chance at all of seeing a glimpse of her. When they sent Arista away, they would banish his dream as well. He had foolish dreams, insane thoughts, but as long as she was there, as long as she had not married, there was always hope. And with so little to sustain him, that thin strand of promise was how he convinced himself that breathing was still a good thing.
Reuben liked to think that one day he would hold Arista in his arms and that he would feel her trembling stop because he was there. That one day, when they were both older, he would know what it was like to kiss her lips.
Reuben sighed.
He liked to think a lot of things, just nothing useful.
He waited until no one was watching and slipped down the steps into the lower corridors that led to the dungeon. Panic seized him as he noticed the bales of straw. The party decorations were all over the castle: bales of straw, bundles of corn stalks, pumpkins, and squash.
But why would someone put them down here? Maybe they had too much? More importantly, had they found Rose?
He raced to the last cell and, pulling a lantern from the ceiling, yanked open the door and peered in. He held his breath and his heart raced until he saw movement in the corner. He stepped in, raising the lantern higher. Two big brown eyes blinked at him.
“Reuben?” Rose said anxiously. “Is it time? Can I go now?”
He relaxed and breathed again. “No, not yet. How are you?”
“Scared.” She was kneeling on the stone, her arms pulled in tight. One side of her hair was out of place, pushed up with bits of straw in it. “Did you tell your father yet?”
“Yes, and he’s going to take care of everything. He said it was actually good you stayed here.” Reuben paused. “Anyway, my dad will clear it all up.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes were red and deep with shadows. She had been crying.
“I told you—my father is a member of the king’s bodyguard. It’s his job to protect the royal family. Trust me, he’ll take care of this.”
“I don’t like it in here. It’s cold and the floor is hard and I haven’t done anything.” She looked at the floor. “I was just here for a party. Just doing what I was asked.” She glanced toward the exit and gestured with her hand. “Earlier someone came down. I saw a light outside the door and heard some men. I was terrified.”
“I know.” Reuben smiled, then hung the lantern from the claw in the ceiling and went back into the corridor. He grabbed a couple bales of straw and hauled them in. “There, you can sit on these or spread them out and lie down. Straw is plenty soft and it will make you warmer by keeping you off the stone. I’m about to go on duty, so I can’t stay long. You’ll probably only have to spend one more night.” He said this as gently as he could.
She moved to sit on the straw bale and nodded. What else could she do? Cry, he supposed, maybe scream. He was glad she didn’t. “I wish I had a light at least. It’s frightening not to see anything. I try to sleep, but you can only sleep so much, you know?”
“I could get you a candle, but it really would be best if you stayed in the dark. No one is supposed to be down here, and if you’d had a light earlier, those men who brought the straw bales would have seen it. I know this must be awful for you, but it’s just another day—just a night really, and it’s better to be safe, don’t you think?”
She sucked in her lower lip and nodded, looking defeated.
He felt terrible.
“Hey, what do you think of my new uniform? Handsome, aren’t I?” He meant it as a joke—anything to lighten the mood, to cheer her up. Anyone else would have picked up on his insincerity. Reuben’s humor was almost always self-deprecating.
“You look nice,” she said. “Even more dashing than usual.”
Reuben was stunned. She thought he was serious. The urge to correct her flared—no one had ever called Reuben dashing before, and he had certainly never felt that way. He straightened his back a tad. As he did, he noticed again the extremely tight waist of her bodice and her breasts shining bright and smooth in the flicker of the lantern light.
“I just took my oath to serve the king a few minutes ago.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Reuben realized she was the first person to tell him that—ever. Imagining the path his life would likely take, he guessed she would be the only one. “Well, I should get going. I just wanted to stop in before my shift and let you know I talked to my father.”
“Do you have to leave?” she asked. “Or can you sit and keep me company awhile? You’d be surprised how unexciting it is to sit in a dark cell. All I do is listen to myself breathe.”
He smiled, thinking she was making a joke, then felt self-conscious after realizing it wasn’t. He cringed, but she smiled back. She had such big eyes—large and dark. They reminded him of the horses in the stable—friendly eyes.
He sat down and she immediately moved next to him, shifting her hips until she pressed against his side. “Cold,” she said.
“Maybe I should see if I can get you another blanket. I could—”
“Don’t go.” She grabbed hold of his arm and hugged.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just don’t want to be alone anymore.” He felt her rubbing his arm, petting it. “Tell me what it’s like to live in a castle?”
Reuben laughed. “I don’t know. I live in a tiny room in the barracks with my father and a bunch of other grumpy men. I’m only in the castle when delivering wood or buckets of water or hauling out ash. I spend most of my time in the courtyard.”
“You’re not out there when it rains, are you?”