Loyalty Fallen Hub

Chapter 2

Far away in the Iridalys capital, everyone was in an uproar. The new king was already seeking a bride, and it seemed he had already chosen one! Trista Amana had been seen with the king everywhere, showing up to social events and parties, and reportedly taking her meals and walks with him. Rumors even said that her chamber had been placed next to his!

Trista was rather uncomfortable with the last arrangement. There was only a single door between them, and when Illian told her about it, she said, “My goodness; one would think you had bad intentions.”

Illian cocked his head with a little smile. “You needn’t worry about that,” he assured her, which only made her feel worse. “It’s simply to keep up appearances, and also for your safety. After all, should someone attempt to get to you, I would prefer to be nearby where I can be responsible for you myself.”

General Valen was not at all sure about the arrangement either. He had protected Illian for years, on and off the battlefield, and he’d never seen his king hide from a fight. But here he was, using a young woman as bait. It was unfathomable to the general. Luckily, no one had taken the bait just yet, and Trista was beginning to think no one ever would. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or a bit offended by that fact.

Trista noticed that Illian looked drawn and tired most of the time. He seemed preoccupied with something, and she couldn’t imagine what. She had no idea that he’d received a message from Chance. It was very small, since it needed to be light enough to strap to the leg of one of the many messenger birds Illian had provided for his informants throughout the kingdom.

“Lovely to chat with you again, your majesty, and to congratulate you for your kingship. I’m afraid I must report I have already been discovered. I am still safe; however, it seems your dear sister still has some ambitions remaining. You may expect to see her and our dear former General Ren at the Contest of Champions in Tephraya in two months’ time.” Illian crumpled the paper without meaning to as his fists instinctively clenched.

The note finished, “Whatever you do, your majesty, I suggest you do it quickly. As ever, your servant.”

The note kept Illian awake at night. It flooded his mind when he ate or drank. At times he would sit staring into the fire in his bedroom morosely. And those few nights when he slept, he could see the letter in his dreams.

Kathryn still had ambitions. Despite the mercy he’d shown her, despite the fact he’d allowed her to live and even to escape with Ren relatively unharmed, she was still a threat. And then of course there was Lenore. She was staying at the academy and seemed obedient enough for the moment, but how long would it be before she joined her sister in thwarting Illian’s intentions?

It was one of those nights, two weeks after the coronation, that Trista was awakened by the sound of a man’s voice crying out. She stumbled blearily out of bed and put her hand on the bell Illian had installed to allow her to call the guards. It was a cold night, and as she stood there shivering, her mind cleared a little and she realized the voice was not threatening, but rather mournful.

A second later she could recognize it as that of Illian. She put her ear to the door separating their chambers. She could hear him crying out, “Why? We’ve been friends our whole lives! How could you do this? No, stop!”

Bewildered, Trista instinctively tried the handle, and then remembered that it was locked and only Illian could open it. She quickly tossed on her robe and went out into the hall to find General Valen apparently waiting for her there.

The hall was dark except for the light of a single lamp, which cast a dim glow across Valen’s serious face. “My lady,” Valen said. “Return to your room.”

“Wha–what’s happening? Is Illian sick?” she asked quickly. Valen’s fist bunched at his side, and she flinched.

“No, my lady,” he said calmly. “But I must ask you not to share anything you hear or see tonight with anyone else. If I find out that this has gotten out by some means, it will be most unfortunate for you.” Her heart thudded in her chest at the words.

Trista refused to give into the fear clutching her heart. She stood as tall as she could and looked up at the giant man hulking over her. “Is that a threat?” she asked coldly.

“It is, my lady. His majesty, the king, has ordered that no one should know about this. And if those orders are violated, I cannot be responsible for the consequences,” Valen replied quietly.

Trista hesitated. Illian’s voice was growing louder and he seemed to be in pain. Suddenly her fears vanished in pure concern. “I already know, so let me go to him,” she said impulsively. “Maybe I can help!”

“The physician is visiting him at the moment, my lady. It will be quiet soon. Please return to your chambers. I would prefer not to have to move you there by force,” he said quietly.

The girl wasn’t sure what to do, but in another second, the voice quieted. There was no more shouting, only the occasional broken sob that tore at her. “Very well,” she murmured. “But General, please make Illian – his majesty, I mean – aware that I wish to help him, and that I am happy to talk with him if he should be willing to do so.”

“I will make him aware, my lady,” Valen said with a face that utterly contradicted his words. “But I suggest you do not bring it up to him yourself. His majesty can become quite angry if his orders are violated.”

Trista nodded and turned to go back into her room. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she couldn’t have noticed the shadowy figure who had been at the window quickly taking a position behind one of the curtains as she closed the door behind her.

The girl was feeling overwhelmingly tired once again, perhaps in part due to the emotions and fear of the last few minutes. Hanging her robe on its hook, she crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. Whatever was happening with Illian, as deeply concerning as it might be to her, he did not want her help yet, she told herself. But hopefully, one day, he would.

As her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep, she didn’t hear the very slight sound of the curtain being drawn aside. Trista was totally unaware of the shadowy figure that approached her bed, and she didn’t see the gleaming knife it held up or the murderous look in its eyes.

She did, however, hear the resounding “clang” as a sword blocked the knife and threw her assailant back several steps. Jerking upright with a gasp, she saw the vague outlines of two men in her room. For some reason, the scream caught in her throat, and she could only watch in disbelief. A shaft of moonlight through the window fell on the man with the sword, and she realized it was Illian.

Perhaps it was the moonlight that made him look like some pale, tragic hero out of a storybook. But as he raised his sword and cut down the assassin with a look of brutal rage, Trista’s hand flew to her mouth and she felt rather sick.

There was blood on the floor and on Illian as he turned to her with the stained sword in his hand. “Are you all right, Trista?” he asked tiredly.

Trista could barely force the words out. Her mind was reeling and she was trembling violently. “Y-yes, I’m fine,” she stammered. “But how d-did you…”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Illian glanced down contemptuously at the dead man on the floor. “What a shame. I should have kept him alive to find out where he came from. I suppose I’ve forgotten how to restrain myself.”

Valen and his men burst into the room. The loud noise was the last straw for Trista, who clapped her hands over her ears with a cry of fear.

Illian dropped his sword and hastened to her side as the other men swarmed to the windows and to the dead assassin. Trista barely heard his voice say sharply, “You fools; what are you trying to do? Kill her with fear?” He lifted the slip of a girl in his arms, snapping over his shoulder, “Get rid of that filth on the floor. Valen, I wish to see you outside my room in a moment.” And while his men watched in astonishment, he calmly carried Trista into his own room, laid her in his bed, and patted her hair gently as she cried.

“It’s all right,” he said kindly. “Cry all you want. I’ll have the physician here in a moment to make sure you are all right. You did very well, Trista; there is nothing to be afraid of. Shh…”

Valen said, “You heard the king. Get rid of the assassin and search for accomplices.” He closed the door between the two rooms to give the king and Trista their privacy. He muttered to himself, “What a strange night this has been.”

The next morning, Trista woke up in an unfamiliar room. It was as spacious as her own, but strangely, there wasn’t an opal or other jewel in sight. The curtains were dark, heavy, and plain, and the bed she was on was rather hard. She shifted uncomfortably and sat up, trying to remember what had happened to her and why she was there.

The events from the previous night flooded in, and she felt her heart begin to pound again. The thing she remembered most, strangely, was Illian’s calming voice saying, “You did very well.”

Then she yelped as Illian himself entered the room with a determined stride. She pulled the blankets up to cover her nightdress and exclaimed, “Could you knock, please, your majesty?”

Illian paused, then smiled. It was a real smile; not the bitter, unhappy expression that sometimes twisted itself into something like a smirk. He sat down in the chair next to the bed. “How do you feel?” he asked kindly.

Trista shrugged, then realized she was sore all over. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Her heart was fluttering oddly. “I feel fine,” she said.

“I hope that’s true. An experience like that can be disturbing. .” He patted her hand and she flinched at the touch as he went on, “I am most impressed at how well you handle the whole thing.”

She blushed awkwardly, remembering how she’d panicked when Valen and the others burst into the room. She wasn’t sure what to say. Illian stood up. “I will have a new handmaiden help you starting today,” he told her. “She’s a bit more capable than your current maids, and she will stay by your side constantly. Should something like this happen again, I would like to know you are with someone who can help protect you, if even just a little.”

Trista clutched the blanket a little tighter. “All right,” she said. That wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wanted to say she couldn’t go through something like that again. She still felt ill as she remembered the sight of the blood and of the dead man on the floor. But she couldn’t get the words out.

Illian studied her face. At last he said, “You are very valuable to me, Trista. Be assured that I will protect you, come what may. No one will be able to harm you.”

Strangely, relief flooded her, and she no longer felt quite so afraid. Her body relaxed, and she was surprised to realize her heart was no longer pounding. She said, “Thank you, Illian. I’ll trust you.”

He smiled. “Good. Then I’ll send your handmaiden in, and you can get dressed. For a few nights, I will take your chamber, and you will take mine. It seems to me that they are after you at the moment and not me, so I think that will be the safest.”

Trista nodded, not sure what else to say. She didn’t want to step foot in that bloody place one more time anyway.

As Illian turned to go, he suddenly remembered something and paused. “By the way,” he said, “I can have the bed replaced if you wish.”

Trista was relieved. She hadn’t wanted to complain, but neither did she like sleeping on a board. “Yes, please,” she said, with a little more life in her voice. She even smiled. “And Illian…thank you for saving me.”

He shrugged. “I promised you I would protect you. I will always keep my promises. And…I value your loyalty. There are so few loyal people to depend on here.” She could hear the wistfulness in his voice, but before she could respond, he left.

Trista hummed a little as she got out of bed and waited for her handmaiden to appear. Despite the abject terror of the previous night, she was quite happy that Illian had shown her so much interest and kindness.

In a moment, the handmaiden arrived. She looked to be just a year younger than Trista, but there was something about her sharp little face and intent black eyes that made Trista a bit nervous. She was very thin, but wiry, and her hair was chopped short around her shoulders. It was rather tangled, and despite her proper outfit, she didn’t look a bit like a noble’s servant, Trista thought. More like a tough little farm girl.

Trista asked, “What’s your name?”

She was quite startled when the girl held up a piece of paper. Trista took it from her and read the words scrawled on it. “My name is Carrie. I’ll be your handmaid.”

Trista frowned. “You can’t speak?” she asked.

Carrie shook her head.

“But you can hear me?”

The girl nodded emphatically. She wrote rapidly across the page. “Yes, I can hear.”

Trista wasn’t quite sure what to think of her new maid. The girl wasn’t particularly good at brushing hair or cleaning rooms. She was a bit sloppy, and her manner was abrupt. Her eyes were constantly darting around with curiosity and something akin to suspicion.

When Trista sat down to eat breakfast with Illian, he asked, “What do you think of Carrie?”

“I…don’t really know.” Trista didn’t want to speak ill of the girl, especially since she was standing just a few feet away glancing curiously around the breakfast room.

Illian smiled. “She’s a bit rough around the edges. She’s only been here a year. Still, she’s improved vastly. I thought you could help her to improve still more. She’s not a regular servant, you see. She’s the sister of a friend of mine. My assigning her to you is just further evidence of the fact I intend to protect you from any further danger, as I have promised to protect her as well. But the truth is, should you find yourself in any sort of awkward situation, you will find her surprisingly capable.”

“Really? She knows how to fight?” Trista hoped her face wasn’t terribly disapproving. In her mind, such a thing would be terribly unladylike.

“You could say that. Not a properly trained style of fighting, but she’s what you might call a bit of a scrapper. She’s had to survive on her own as a slave for a good many years.”

Trista was quite horrified. “A slave?” she exclaimed.

Carrie tapped her on the shoulder and wrote rapidly on the note paper, “Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t like it.”

Trista glanced at Illian, who only shrugged. Then Trista said, “Well, if you don’t like it, I’ll try not to. It’s best this way, anyway. I’ve been a bit lonely here. Lenore is always away at the academy, and Illian has tried to make me feel at home I’m sure, but he’s entirely too absorbed in his own affairs.”

Illian raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interject as Trista went on, “I hope you and I shall be friends.”

Carrie frowned, and for a moment Trista thought she didn’t like the idea, but the frown gave way to a smile in a moment and she wrote, “All right. Friends.”

“I’m glad to see you’re getting on so well,” Illian said wryly, “As I do have some of my own affairs to attend to in the next hour.” He glanced at Carrie. “Thanks for your help with this,” he told her.

She wrote in the notebook, “When is my brother coming home?” She was looking at him with an expression that was filled with distrust and perhaps even dislike, which confused Trista.

Illian sighed. “Not for a while, I told you. Don’t make a fuss, now.”

“Don’t treat me like a child. I know you are putting him in danger again.” Carrie finished writing the words and threw the notebook down on the table before folding her arms defiantly.

Illian rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this. I’ll see you later, Trista.” With that, he left.

Trista wanted to ask Carrie why she seemed to dislike Illian so much when he had saved her from being a slave, but it was rather awkward. So instead, she decided to take a walk in the garden. Carrie followed her, with her eyes darting around constantly. Trista began, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want-”

Carrie put a finger to her lips. Trista stopped talking, tensing up. She whispered, “What is it?” Carrie cocked her head with an exasperated look, drew out another notebook from her pockets that seemed to contain an endless supply, and wrote, “Don’t say silly things. The King said to stay with you, so I’m going to.”

“Well…all right.” Trista really wasn’t sure what to do with her new companion. Until, that is, Carrie started writing down all of the names of the different flowers they were looking at. Apparently, she loved flowers, and before she knew it, Trista was fully engaged in trying to guess what types of flora she was looking at, and Carrie was laughing at her mistakes. Trista felt more relaxed than she had since she came.

Chapter 3

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