44 Rhona
Rhona
Once in a while, the Iron Retinue sent its best knights for a shift guarding the streets of Astrad. In part, it was meant
to show the people of Astra that no one, not even the knights of the Iron Retinue, was above any sort of work guarding the
empire’s hard-working civilians. The other part was so that Rhona and her compatriots could look for witches in hiding—ones
that may have successfully hidden their abilities all this time.
Rhona felt strange about this particular duty now. Before, she’d have excitedly searched for witches in hiding, frothing at
the mouth for the praise she’d get for catching one. Now, she wondered how many of them would have actually done any harm.
Lady Maeve had been kinder to her than . . . anyone, and she was the exact thing Rhona was supposed to hate. Could she say she hated witches, still?
Rhona patrolled the busy streets, citizens quieting down as she walked past, as if they were afraid that if they spoke out
of turn that Rhona would detain them, or worse.
The mood had changed in the past few years.
People had seemed so hopeful when the Iron Empire rose and now .
. . now they seemed forlorn. Maybe it was the crops rotting and causing food shortages; maybe it was everything else.
Rhona felt like each moment she spent with people that weren’t in the Iron Retinue was showing her a new side of the Iron Empire .
. . one she didn’t particularly like the look of.
“Miss,” said a young girl as she ran up to her. “You are so so tall, how did you grow so big?”
Rhona smiled, leaning down to the little girl’s level. How did she tell her that it was because Rhona’s father was very big
and very scary? That Rhona tilled the land as she grew up. That it wasn’t because she had any sort of magic growing potion,
or even enough food growing up. The little girl also didn’t look like she had enough food; most people didn’t these days.
“I dreamed really hard about being big and strong, and big and strong I became,” Rhona stage whispered conspiratorially, as
if she was imparting a big secret. It was kinder than the truth.
“Ohh,” the little girl said, eyes widening. Her mother came running up behind her, a graying woman in her early forties with
clothes that were frayed and falling apart.
“Honey,” she said. “Leave the lady knight alone!”
Rhona stood, towering over the two. “It’s okay, madam.”
“I’m so sorry about her. You don’t see many lady knights and all she ever talks about is becoming one.” The woman scratched
her head, the exasperation clear in her voice.
“Are you two all right this evening?” Rhona asked, her plate armor clanking as she stood to her full height, towering over
the woman and her daughter. “Is there anything you need help with from a knight . . . or anything you think I should know?”
The woman watched Rhona, mistrust in her eyes. “The crop was bad this year,” she said, but Rhona could tell there was more.
There was something she didn’t want to tell Rhona.
“I have heard about the crops. Is there anything else?” Rhona asked gently, lacing kindness into each syllable. She needed
this woman to tell her what she was withholding.
“Aye, a lot of us are hungry, but that’s not what’s got everyone upset and scared.” The woman looked around, as if someone was going to hear her. “There’s something roaming the streets at night. People are frightened.”
It was the first Rhona had heard anything like that. “Something, or someone?” Rhona asked.
“A person, but not a person. They don’t speak, and they don’t react but they’ve . . . They killed my friend’s husband. They’ve
killed many . . . and others have just disappeared.”
A chill ran through Rhona, her heart beating a furious rhythm. This sounded like the creature the Corisian had talked about
before Lord General Kerrigan had killed him.
“I will bring this to my commander and the city guard,” Rhona said, a twitch in her brow starting as she tried to play off
what she’d been told. “Please, stay inside at night.” She shouldn’t have said that last part, but if the people of Astrad
were going missing then Rhona needed to do what she could to protect them without causing a riot. They’d be safe inside . . .
she hoped.
“Thank you,” the woman said before grabbing her daughter’s hand and walking away, the little girl looking back at Rhona as
she left.
Rhona’s patrol took on a methodical pace as she played the conversation with the woman repeatedly in her head, trying to figure
out how something was on a rampage in Astrad and no one had done anything to stop it yet. Had the city guard not known about
it? Or had they been directed to leave whatever it was alone to do as it pleased? As she strode past the burned-down husk
that remained of the city guard barracks, she noticed something glinting in the distance. She turned abruptly, heading through
the rubble to where the wall had caught her eye.
She’d never noticed it before; the barracks had always obscured what was behind it. Rhona had never had a reason to go to the barracks, not after she’d been rejected by the city guard. She’d have never thought to look here had the Corisians not burned the building down.
She stood facing the city wall, a stone archway with a gilded bull’s head above it leading to a path that sloped downward.
To anyone else it would seem like somewhere that the city guards could access as needed, but Rhona knew that this was what
she’d been searching for for weeks. And here it was, hidden in plain sight.
Ten minutes later she was waiting for Maeve to open her door. Rhona huffed from the sprint that had brought her to the lady’s
quarters again. The instant Maeve did, Rhona pushed into the room and closed the door behind her.
“Hello to you too,” Maeve said, looking at Rhona with concern in her eyes. “Did you leave a mark on my door with how hard
you pounded on it?”
“I found it,” Rhona said, grabbing Maeve by the shoulders.
“Oh? Oh!” Maeve gasped in recognition, placing a hand over Rhona’s.
“It was behind the city guard barracks the whole time,” Rhona said, sitting on the chair near the door that Maeve used to
pull her boots on.
“You never noticed it before?” Maeve asked, leaning against the settee closest to where Rhona sat.
“I don’t go to the city guard barracks . . . ever,” Rhona said. “They’ve never been very welcoming of me.”
“Why not?” Maeve said, tilting her head.
“You can’t be serious,” Rhona said.
“I am.”
“The De Clares weren’t very understanding of women who wished to fight, including joining the city guard.”
Maeve watched Rhona as she spoke, curiosity in her eyes. It infuriated Rhona—of course Maeve wouldn’t understand the struggles
a commoner like her had to deal with.
“I tried to join the city guard when I came to the capital . . . I escaped my damned farm life and arranged marriage, all with the plan to become a knight once I was here. But they told me a woman, no matter how big, couldn’t protect the people of Astra.
I spent years waiting and struggling on these damned streets, working with the Iron Resistance and waiting for a time where my merit was more important than my womanhood .
. . the only reason I’m here now is because of the Iron Empire,” Rhona continued.
Maeve watched her, standing up straight from her lean against the settee and looking down at Rhona. “I think that’s awful,”
Maeve finally said, “But I don’t think that was King Arthel’s choice.”
“How would you know?” Rhona scoffed.
“I was here in the capital before the uprising, when Princess Evangeline was here,” Maeve explained, leaving out the obvious
part—that the Iron Empire had executed the woman before she could become queen. “If her father had been against women protecting
the country, then why would he have agreed for his daughter to become the ultimate protector of the realm? And believe me,
that was his plan.”
Rhona watched Maeve, confusion in her eyes as she processed what Maeve said. Lord General Kerrigan had told her that the De
Clares hated women with power. Rhona hadn’t thought past it, hadn’t thought about the princess and her planned succession.
Maeve placed a hand on Rhona’s cheek. “I’m not trying to derail the discovery you made today, just trying to show you that
there’s nuance here.”
“The city guard . . . were terrible to me, though,” Rhona said.
“That doesn’t mean it was the king telling them to be.”
Years of hating King Arthel because she’d been told he was the source of her problems, but now she was being told that that hadn’t been true. Rhona needed Maeve to be wrong, or else she didn’t know what so much of her anger all these years had been for.
“You are deserving of your knighthood, Rhona. You just need to decide who truly deserves to be protected,” Maeve said, kissing
Rhona on the cheek.
All at once it hit Rhona. It was Maeve. Maeve was who Rhona wanted to protect right now.
Maeve’s lips lingered and Rhona could feel her breath on her cheek. She turned to the lady, their lips a breath apart, and
she closed the gap without thinking, touching her lips to Maeve’s before instantly pulling away.
“I’m so sorry, Lady Maeve,” Rhona said, fingers to her tingling lips as she backed toward the door, her cheeks on fire. It
was improper to kiss the lady, but Rhona was finding it harder and harder to find a reason that felt sufficient enough to
stop herself.
Maeve stepped forward, dark eyes sparkling. “You do not need to apologize.” She grinned. “I liked it.”
“I’ll let you know what happens when I go to the archway tonight,” Rhona said, panicking and running out the door.
“I will speak to you then!” Maeve called after her.