Chapter 5 #2
“And I am a firm believer in jumping right into the water, rather than dipping my toes,” Angharad bantered, leading me from the safety of the room.
Winnie followed behind at a distance, keeping within earshot.
“Before I arrived, the ladies of court were a reserved bunch. Don’t mistake that for politeness, however; they were at each other’s throats in a long-lasting war of defamation.
I find that putting everything out on the table keeps us from weaponizing secrets. Your Grace!”
I flinched at the shout. We crossed paths with the Duke of Greene, whose habitual nervousness was an ever-present characteristic; as he spotted us, he offered a polite acknowledgement.
Angharad patted me on the hand. “My lady, this is our Royal Scientific Advisor, Duke Minnick of Greene.”
I curtsied. Of course I had encountered the man before, but not once had we stopped for conversation. We couldn’t.
“Lady Alana Chastain,” Duke Minnick replied with a smile. My eyes widened at the recognition of my surname as he turned to Angharad for explanation. “As fate would have it, the Chastains were once a well-established pair of apothecaries in Finn’s Hollow.”
“You don’t say?” replied Angharad. I furrowed my brow, wondering how he’d come by such information.
“Our prince made the clarification in the Lord’s Chamber. ‘Of the Woods’ is only a cheeky subtitle.”
So the prince had decided to remedy his mistake, after all? I couldn’t deny the reflex to smile.
“Please excuse me, ladies; I am needed in the library,” the duke said, walking past us and exchanging a brief, polite greeting with Winnie on the way.
Angharad pulled me close and whispered. “As of yet, the duke remains unmarried, though he fancied your Winnie for the longest time, the poor dear. I suppose now that you’ve seen to the restoration of her title, such a union is possible, should he wish for it.”
I shifted my gaze to Winnie, who appeared indifferent to any unusual treatment she might be receiving from the duke.
“His cock’s got a curve to it, but he’s got some length going for him and a set of plump bollocks,” Angharad added with a wink.
I swiftly cupped my mouth to hold back a scream, sharply returning my attention to my new acquaintance. How could she possibly know that about him? Why did she think I’d want to know?
“A girl hears such things.”
“From where?!” I hissed, but I received no answer.
Angharad continued to make introductions to the various lords and noblemen, always with the quiet addendum of how they looked beneath their clothes. It became less shocking after three or four men, merely another trifle of information.
We went out into the yard, where others were taking time to enjoy the pleasant fall weather. Angharad only bothered to introduce the higher nobility, so we didn’t make too many stops…yet she seemed to walk with a specific destination in mind, the pace breakneck in my uncomfortable slippers.
A number of guardsmen gathered around a training arena in observation.
They erupted with sudden applause, parting for us as we came nearer to the source of entertainment.
In the center of a fenced-in ring, two men rehearsed swordplay.
Their linen shirts were sweat-dampened and clinging, partially tucked into their dark training breeches.
The men paused their duel, then turned and bowed to us. Now I recognized one of them; the exertion brought color to Lord Quinn’s olive skin, and his shirt, barely there, revealed a lean, muscled frame.
“Oh, no, by all means, please continue,” said Angharad. The viscount caught his breath, just as severe without his armor or finery.
“How’s a man supposed to perform with you gawking at us?” his opponent asked, pouting with indignation. He was a plain but well-shaped fellow, with short, militaristic hair and a chiseled face. “Begone, Angharad!”
“My brother, Russel,” she introduced, then added without whisper: “His cock is tiny and sad.”
“What madness are you whispering over there, she-devil?”
The viscount shook his head, adjusting the tie that pulled a mane of dark hair from his face. “Ease up, Rus. There’s a princess among us.”
Russel’s eyes went straight to me, and then he dropped onto one knee. “Your Highness.”
“Not yet, but good practice.” Lord Quinn smiled, crossing the arena to be closer. I bristled. “What brings you to us, Angharad?”
There was an immediate familiarity between the pair of them, a lowered guard and loosened formality. It was disconcerting to see him smile. I wondered just what the lady had done to turn this bloodhound into a lap dog.
“I have the honor of escorting Lady Alana on a stroll about the castle. We’re making introductions…though I suppose, from the look in her eye, the two of you have met?”
“That would be correct. I am the one who abducted her for Nic.”
I might not have been a master of courtly manners, but surely the shortening of the prince’s given name counted as impudence.
Angharad sensed my hesitation and rested a hand on the small of my back. “Long before I was engaged to my darling husband, my family took our winter holiday in Hadria. It was there I first met the viscount…and we had a bit of romance, didn’t we?”
Startled out of his cockiness, the viscount rubbed his neck. “More than a bit.”
“A tumble here and there.”
My face scorched as I struggled to comprehend the rules of propriety here.
It felt as though every warning Winnie had given me about how to conduct myself was defied by Angharad.
Not only that, but in all the stories of noble intrigue, not once had I ever encountered a woman like her.
Yet, she was not judged harshly, so far as I could tell, nor was her position reduced.
“You were my first love, Angharad. How you wound me.”
I shifted my weight. Angharad looked between the viscount and me, then put her hands on her hips.
“You must have done a number on her; she’s utterly speechless.”
“She’s a mute, you fool,” replied Lord Quinn.
Angharad huffed, crossing her arms. “Perhaps around men like yourself. Our lady is an adept conversationalist.”
Lord Quinn raised a brow, and I sneered. It was as good an excuse as any not to speak with him; even if I could, I wouldn’t.
“Gracious me,” Angharad muttered, then took my arm into her own. “Come, my lady. Gods be with you, Quinn Navarro; perhaps you ought to work on reconciliation. She’s to be our queen one day.”
It didn’t take long for the fighting to pick back up, once we made our distance. Angharad looked over her shoulder at the cluster of guards.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing, just…” Angharad trailed off, then returned her attention to me. She trembled, as though whatever secret she kept might combust at any minute. Then she took a deep breath and exploded. “He’s huge!”
The blood left my face. “Gods!”
I covered my eyes. How common was it for ladies of the court to have such experiences with the men? It all sounded rather scandalous.
Peeking from between my fingers, I managed a sheepish glance at my acquaintance.
She’d introduced me to nearly every penis in the castle, except for the only one that I’d inevitably be faced with, should the queen decide not to evict me from the premises.
I battled my thoughts until my sanity forfeited.
“What… What of the prince?” I asked quietly.
Angharad whistled, clapping slowly, and I immediately regretted my decision to speak. “There we go. You’re blossoming.”
“Lady Angharad!”
“No, no, let me think… Honestly, not many could speak to it, and the whores know to keep their secrets. I will say, the mistress I saw leaving his bedchambers certainly appeared satisfied.”
Uncertainty and interest swirled within me. It was enough to keep me silent for the remainder of our walk.
We returned to the Lady’s Chambers in due time, arriving as one of the servant girls concluded her performance on a harp. The other ladies clapped in approval while I took my seat; Angharad reclaimed her spot, then poured herself a drink.
“Oh! Lady Winnie should perform for us next,” Angharad suggested, turning her attention to the lady-in-waiting as she made her way back to the alcove. Winnie froze in place.
“I wouldn’t know what to do,” she said, turning toward the building audience. “I’m ungifted with any instruments, and I can hardly sing.”
“Come now!” Lady Diamond belted out, her next words slurred and somewhat unclear. “Y-belch-you’re a lady-in-waiting! You must have some entertainment value!”
“What’s this about?” I asked.
“All ladies-in-waiting are trained in some manner of music, poetry, or art,” explained Lady Maeve, her voice light as a feather. She hiccupped.
Winnie’s apparent discomfort dampened my spirits. “Actually, my new friends, I grow faint with hunger. It is my own fault for coming straight here and skipping breakfast.”
Relief visibly washed over Winnie. “Oh, my lady, I should have noticed! Come, I shall arrange for a meal straightaway.”
She hurried to my side, bidding farewell before retreating into the safety of the corridor. Winnie was pensive on our return, hardly uttering a word until we’d descended to the lower floor.
“My lady.” She squared her shoulders. “I shall begin lessons in my spare time. Perhaps the violin would please you?”
“Oh, please, don’t trouble yourself with such things,” I replied, taking Winnie’s hand. “You do more than enough for me as a mentor.”
Winnie looked at our hands with surprise. “Then I shall do better as a mentor to account for my worthlessness as a musician. By the gods, I almost sang today! What an embarrassment that would have been! You do not want to hear me sing, my lady. It’s like the shrieking of a rusted hinge.”
Just as she said it, the chamber door creaked audibly beneath the weight of her palm. She grimaced, no doubt making a mental note to come back and oil it.
“I rather like singing,” I mused. After all, I’d sung my whole life, for no audience beyond my mother.
There was something freeing in the act. It felt like speaking another language, communicating feelings through pitch and harmonics.
“Perhaps I could sing for them sometime? Would that be appropriate?”
Winnie’s lips twitched into a grin. “Just about anything goes in the Lady’s Chamber.”