Heart of the Blood Knight

Prologue

“Watch it, girl.”

The voice came from above me, rough and slurred. One of the patrons staggered past, carrying two large cow horns filled with mead. His words barely held together on his drunken tongue.

Welme grabbed my hand as I instinctively ducked toward the wooden floor.

A few cold drops spilled down the back of my neck as we slipped between the tables.

Behind us, the man with the long, filthy beard and even filthier hair muttered a string of curses before lurching back to his seat.

The old, worn chair groaned beneath his weight as he collapsed onto it.

He dragged a hand through his tangled hair and lifted the polished horn to his lips.

When his cold, oddly vacant gaze flicked toward me, Welme tugged at the sleeve of my old dress again and whispered, eyes lowered, “Come on, princess.”

I shook my head and smiled, letting her gently pull me toward our usual table, one made of dark oak planks worn smooth by years of use. We gathered our skirts beneath us and sat.

Just then, the kitchen door creaked open.

Anne emerged with the heavy, familiar step of someone who had walked that path thousands of times before. Her once-white apron, now permanently stained, stretched across her soft, rounded stomach as she moved toward us.

In her hands, she carried a tray of roasted quail, still sizzling with scorching heat. The scent of spices followed the old woman, thick and warm, settling over the tavern and drawing a thin sheen of sweat across my brow.

“Aye, girls. Enjoy,” she said, setting the tray down with a soft clatter. “Call if you need anything… I told you not to come back.” Her head snapped toward the drunken man before either of us could reply. She waddled over to him with purpose.

“Out.”

Her accent was heavy, the same as every other peasant in Sea Port. The man grumbled but was far too drunk to resist. Anne hauled him to the door and shoved him outside, slamming it shut so hard I thought the hinges might give way. The ancient wood groaned yet withheld the abuse.

She turned back to us and brushed her hands together.

Welme, my longtime handmaiden and the only true friend I had, the one who followed me like my own shadow, choked slightly on a piece of quail and glanced at me with a grin.

“Aye, girls,” Anne said as she lowered herself onto the bench across from us. “Have y’a heard? The folks say the king is organizing a tournament. For the princess. The youngest one.”

By now, Welme and I were used to pretending.

In Anne’s eyes, we were simply two sisters, neither poor nor wealthy, and nothing alike in looks, humour, or wit.

“Aye,” I replied. “That’s what they say. For the youngest.” I flicked my head toward the air and waved a quail leg in the direction of Gold Avenue, where the wealthiest part of the city lay. “They’ve already started preparations there.”

Anne sighed deeply, rubbing her thighs and the knees she’d complained about for years before settling more comfortably onto the bench.

“As if I ever set foot there,” she muttered, her face tightening with something close to sadness.

As she sat, she brought with her the familiar smell of the kitchen, hundreds of spices mixed with cheap, watered-down mead.

“But a’ least travelers will come,” she added, glancing around her nearly empty tavern tucked into a hidden street near the harbor. “Maybe this ’ole will make a little coin for once.”

Hidden beneath the stairway that led to the upper streets, Tavern Under the Stairs had stood in the same spot for over a hundred years.

“Perhaps…” Welme said between bites, smiling, “You could even smile once in a while.”a

“Careful,” Anne warned, lifting her hand, though there was no real threat in her voice. After all, she took a liking to us.

We had been coming here for five years now, ever since I turned fifteen, and we had never gone anywhere else. It was quiet and cramped, with excellent food and the precious silence I could never find at court.

Anne stared off for a moment, then sighed again.

“I’ll have to tell me son to try catching a few rabbits. Maybe some ducks. Those sell best. Oh, but if only he could bring in a stag…” She drifted into her thoughts, already planning.

“Let me know when y’a hear more about the tournament,” she said as she pushed herself up from the bench. “If it’s truly happening this year, I’ll need to prepare.”

“What, so you can water down the mead even more?” I teased.

“Hey!” She snapped, shaking her head. “Don’t think I wouldn’t do the same to you as I did to that old hag, ungrateful little wretch.”

“You know you love us,” I called after her.

She lifted a hand without turning around and waved it off.

“Come on, princess,” Welme said softly. “It’s getting dark.”

I glanced at the single window and saw she was right. Night was settling in, and it was time to return to the castle.

A few silver coins spun on the table as we stood, shaking out our old, uncomfortable dresses.

“Next time, I’ll bring you a few pheasants,” I said toward the kitchen door.

“Aye,” came the soft reply.

Laughing, I slipped my arm through Welme’s.

She opened the door for me and bowed slightly, just enough for my eyes alone. The sharp scent of salt filled my lungs, and I closed my eyes for a moment before she tugged me forward again.

“Princess, we’re already late.”

I climbed the stone steps ahead of her, my gaze darting left and right as if I were seeing the place for the first time.

Stone houses pressed tightly together along the narrow streets, forming walls that had guarded these hidden paths for centuries.

Above us, hundreds of golden lanterns, tied together by thin cords, illuminated the stone path.

Vendors shouted prices for food and fabrics, while golden lanterns stretched overhead, lighting our way.

“Try this!”

“Feel how soft the cloth is!”

“Feathers for your cap!”

The noise echoed around us as we pushed through.

The truth was, the tournament was happening. And an even greater truth was that in a few weeks, these streets would be flooded with people fighting for space in the stands of the Arozzoeum.

All of it for me.

The youngest princess of a great king and a gentle queen. All so they could find me the strongest, finest knight as they did for all my sisters before me, one who would follow me like a dog, even when I needed to change my clothes or relieve myself.

I shook my head at my thoughts and tugged Welme along toward the castle.

By the time night fully fell and a light rain chased most people from the streets, The Tall Maiden finally rose before us.

Rain poured as we reached the small break in the wall where we pulled out our court dresses. Mine shimmered with gemstones and gold thread; hers was simpler, less adorned. We ducked into the narrow alley and changed quickly, stuffing our old clothes back into the same dusty, hidden crevice.

Welme tightened the clasps on my back with practiced hands and swept my long, golden hair over my shoulders.

With every step, the weight of the day slipped away, replaced by something familiar: duty, walls, rules.

I cast one last glance over my shoulder, back toward the tangled streets and hidden corners of the city of Sea Port.

Then I straightened my posture.

Welme fell half a step behind me, exactly where she was meant to be.

And together, we approached the enormous gates of stone.