Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (8 page)

“Definitely.” He tore into the stew with abandon as his stomach urged him onward.

With her hand propped under her chin, she leaned forward and sat transfixed on Ronan as he inhaled the stew.

He finished the last bite, set the empty bowl on the serving tray, and eased back relaxing against the headboard.

She stood, crossed to the bed, and took Ronan’s empty bowl. “It’s a good sign that you have an appetite. I’ll get you some more.” She moved to the iron stove and grabbed the ladle.

“Thank you,” he said. “Do you mind if I ask your name?”

She refilled the bowl and placed it on Ronan’s serving tray.

“How rude of me. I’m Rika Finn.” She extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Her skin felt warm and supple beneath his fingertips, and her handshake firm and in control. The set of calluses raised on her palm gave him pause, and he found himself wanting to know her better.

“This is the part where you tell me your name,” Rika said.

His belly fluttered. “My name?”

“You do have a name don’t you?”

“Of course.” His mind scrambled. Could he give her his real name? Could he trust her? “Peter. My name is Pete Latimer.” The stew sat like a lump in his stomach, and his appetite vanished. He regretted the lie as soon as it left his mouth.

“The same last name as the royal family. It’s a shame what happened to them.” Her eyes drifted away from him. She returned to the table, plopped onto the bench, and pushed away her beef stew.

Her demeanor had changed, and a frigid distance settled between them. Had he done something wrong? “What happened?”

“You wouldn’t know. How could you? Four nights ago, someone assassinated the queen and kidnapped Prince Ronan. Later that night…” Her lips flattened, and she crossed her arms.

“Later?”

She sighed. “Later that night the prince died in a house fire.”

“Did they catch the killer?” He held his breath.

“Not yet. The king has offered a hundred crown reward for his capture.”

Ronan leaned his head back with relief. “Who’s the king?”

“Merric Pride.” She spit out the words.

“He became king the moment the prince died. He led the funeral procession himself just yesterday.” Her eyes turned to ice. “He gave a speech in front of the church. Something about a return to a stronger Meranthia or some such nonsense.”

“You don’t sound like you’re a fan of the archbishop.”

“I don’t suppose I am.” She rose. “Can you roll over? I need to check your bandages.” She moved to his side. “I looked you over while you were sleeping. I think you have a couple of broken ribs. Also, there’s a large cut on your back. I’ve done my best to keep it clean, but I have to change the bandages or it’ll become infected.”

“I think I can manage.” He rolled to his side, and she moved in behind him. As she leaned over, her hair brushed against his side raising goose bumps along his back. With her presence, came the scent of lavender combined with cinnamon, and a warm flush spread through his body. He inhaled her sweet scent and relaxed as her hands went to work on the old bandage. “Why are you doing this for me? It would’ve been easier to leave me in that alley.”

“You saved my life. Those boys would’ve killed me if you hadn’t come along. I would never leave you like that.”

She could’ve left him to die or killed him any time over the past three days. He owed her the truth.

As she concentrated on Ronan’s bandage, she didn’t speak for the next several minutes.

“Rika, can I ask you a personal question?”

She froze behind him. “It depends on the question. What do you want to ask?”

“Where’s your family? You can’t be much older than me.”

She returned to cleaning his wounded back. Several minutes went by before she answered. “It’s a long and sordid story. And, anyway, I could ask the same of you.” She applied the fresh bandage. “I turned fifteen last week. I’m old enough to look after myself.”

He understood secrets and let it go.

“There you go. Your cut looks much better today.” She placed a few medical supplies in the table drawer next to the bed.

Ronan eased over, found his fluffy pillow, and settled against the headboard. “I had my mother. Now, it’s just me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“That fire you mentioned earlier. The one that killed the prince. Was it in the laborer’s district?” Ronan said.

“Yes. It happened the same night you saved me in the alley.”

“My mother and I lived in one of the houses that caught fire. I woke to the smell of smoke. When I got out of bed, flames had engulfed my room, and I couldn’t reach my mother. I ran for help, and that’s when I came on you.”

Rika offered a blank emotionless stare. “I can’t keep listening to these lies. I’m sorry. Let’s drop the act shall we?” She returned to her seat at the table. “I understand you’ve been through a hard stretch, but if you want any more help from me, I’ll not be lied to any longer.”

His face flushed. “Rika, What’re you talking about. I-”

“You never stepped foot in the laborer’s district before that night,” she said.

“How would you know that?”

She held up her index finger. “One. You carried a ridiculous amount of coin with you. That means you either stole it, or you’re lying about who you are.”

She raised her middle finger. “Two. You ran across the district for help. Your neighbors were right outside carrying buckets working hard to save the other houses. You could’ve just asked them.”

She added her ring finger. “Three. You told that bully you’d call the city guard. If you’d spent one day in this district, you’d know the guard doesn’t ever send a patrol there. Shall I go on?”

“I think I’ve got-”

Ignoring him she held up her pinky finger. “Four. Your hands are callused like someone trained with the sword. Nobody in the laborer’s district has ever held a sword let alone trained with one.”

She held up her thumb. “And five, you don’t speak like any commoner I’ve heard since coming to Freehold.”

Ronan’s heart raced. “You’ve got me all figured out. Don’t you?”

She folded her arms and glared at him.

He extended his hand. “Let’s start over. I’m Ronan. Ronan Latimer. And contrary to public opinion, I’m very much alive.”

She smiled and shook his hand. “I sort of figured that out.”

“Now that you know who I am. Can I ask you something?” Ronan said.

“Another question?”

“Why is a pretty girl like you running around a rough place like the laborer’s district dressed like a boy and carrying a knife? And,” he held up a finger, “a knife you use quite well.”

Her brow furrowed. “That’ll require some explanation.” She fingered the knife that sat next to her wood carving. “About six months ago my father came to Freehold. He was sent on a mission by the Ayralen government. He never gives me the details, but, for him to travel all the way to Freehold, it must have been important.”

“And he brought you with him?”

“Yes. My brother joined Lora’s Guard about a year ago, and my mother died when I was eight.”

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Ronan said.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry about your mother too Ronan. Truly sorry.”

His chest tightened. “Thank you, but I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please continue.”

She let out a deep breath and nodded. “When we arrived in Freehold, my father went to the palace to request a meeting with your mother. A secretary of some sort told him he needed to meet with the archbishop first.”

Ronan’s brow furrowed. “Who told him that? My mother would never turn away an Ayralen emissary.”

“He didn’t say, I’m afraid. My father refused to meet with Pride. He said the information was sensitive and meant for the queen’s ears alone.”

Ronan nodded. “Did he ever meet with my mother?”

“No. He never did. He tried for weeks to secure a meeting with the queen, but the same secretary denied him every time. Months went by, and he decided to take the meeting with the archbishop. He thought he could persuade the archbishop to arrange a meeting with the queen.”

“I never heard a word of this. As the first person in line for the throne, Sir Alcott kept me well informed on matters of state. He would’ve told me.”

“It’s not your fault. I know that. Anyway, the morning he left for the meeting was the last time I saw him.” Her voice trembled over the last few words and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry about your father Rika. Have you told anyone in Ayralen?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know who to tell. The Prime Guardian might be able to help. Even if I could get him to listen to me, I can’t leave him here alone. It’d take months to travel to Ayralen and back.” She wiped the tears from her face. “Despite the months I’ve spent searching for him, I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve followed the archbishop, but I didn’t learn anything. I even followed the queen looking for the right time to approach her for help.”

“You’re lucky to be alive. I’m surprised one of the knights didn’t have you arrested,” Ronan said.

“I followed you too when I couldn’t find her.”

“Why didn’t you approach me?” Ronan said.

“You’re always surrounded by guards. I was afraid.” She held his gaze for a moment before continuing. “The morning you found me in the alley wasn’t by accident.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Rika stood and opened the dish cabinet, grabbed two mugs, a bag of tea, and a shiny porcelain teapot. She filled the teapot with hot water from the iron kettle, loaded the tray, and placed it atop the long table. “I was following you when those boys attacked me. I was there at the palace the night your mother died, and I saw the man jump out the window. You were with him. He saved you didn’t he?”

“That was Master Tyrell. Yes. He saved me, and he tried to save my mother. The story Pride’s telling isn’t true,” Ronan said.

“I tracked you back to the old townhouse, and watched the guards set it on fire. After they left, I tried to find a way into the house to save you. It surprised me when I saw you come out of the house next door.”

“The guards didn’t know about a cellar passage connecting the houses. When I came across you in the alley that morning, I was on my way to meet Master Tyrell. He wanted to flee to Ayralen. He said he had contacts there.”

Rika’s eyes widened. “Did he say who? Was it my father?”

“He didn’t say.”

Rika sagged. “Can we reach him somehow?”

“He thinks I died in that fire, and he’s a wanted man. He has no reason to stay in Meranthia. Even if he didn’t leave, I don’t know how to find him.”

Rika poured the tea, sat on the bed, and handed Ronan a mug.

Ronan took the mug. “How did you manage to follow the archbishop, the queen, and me without getting caught?” He sipped at the tea.

“I had some training in Ayralen. I’m good at tracking,” Rika said.

“If you managed to avoid detection by the queen’s personal guard then you are a little more than good.”

Rika shrugged. “I suppose.”

“I’m glad you didn’t approach Pride,” Ronan said

“My father somehow knew how the archbishop felt about Ayralens. He knew he was dangerous, but he never thought his life was in jeopardy. I’ve got a horrible feeling he did something to my father.”

“I’m sorry Rika. You’ve reason to worry. I watched him kill my mother in cold blood. He tried to kill me too.”

“I’m so sorry Ronan.”

“If he knew I was still alive, he’d come after me.”

“Do you have any idea where he might have taken my father?”

“Pride has many friends. He could be hiding him anywhere.”

“I don’t know what to do. If I leave, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“I won’t stop until I see him dead for what he did to my mother,” Ronan said. “Maybe we could help each other.”

“Like a partnership?” Rika took a sip from her mug. “How would that work?”

“If you help me get to Pride. I’ll help you find your father.”

“But, we’re just kids. I’m fifteen years old,” Rika said.

“I didn’t say it would be easy or quick, but it’d be easier to work together than alone. And, a lot less lonely,” Ronan said.

“I have one condition,” she said “We’re friends and partners only. Nothing more. That’s a complication we can’t afford.”

“Agreed.” He held out his hand. “Shake on it?”

Rika shook Ronan’s hand and sealed the pact.

House Randal

A steady flow of guests made their way through the high gates of House Randal. The four-story mansion laid on the outskirts of the Lord’s District where the power center had transferred since Queen Arianne’s assassination five years ago. Those new lords, who’d received their appointments during King Pride’s reign, flocked to the evening’s shard ceremony hosted by the right hand of the king, Lord Niles Randal himself.

Ronan despised the banner flying above the gated entrance. Its insignia, an eye within a circle, flew on white banners above homes embracing a firm belief in pure Meranthian society. Every home inside Freehold’s walls had adopted the banner during Pride’s reign. Citizens not flying Pride’s banner invited a visit from the Ministry of Culture.