The Apprentice (35 page)

Chapter 31
                     
 

Rowan’s elation at his earlier
victory had not subsided in the slightest. He now walked with the weight of his
medal hanging from his neck. The sun had fallen and the daylight was fading as
it sunk beneath the horizon. The nightly feast was already well underway, with
the king leading the festivities and the sound of instruments and singers
filling the streets.

As had
become his nightly ritual, Rowan had left the festivities early to wander on
his own. He enjoyed his solitude, particularly after having been the focus of
so much attention since his victory. He had been seated at a place of honor
near the head of the table, where he could speak with Baird and the king and
the other victors for that day. Princess Eliza had been present as well, but
Rowan had avoided speaking with her. After what had happened earlier, he did
not know what to say.

Immediately
following Rowan’s match, even before Darius could officially declare him the
winner, he had been congratulated by his friends. Baird congratulated him later
on, bringing Princess Eliza with him. The young princess had also congratulated
him, but she could not keep herself from giggling and she had a devious
expression plastered on her face. Rowan asked but she refused to let him in on
the joke and Baird had little to offer.

Rowan
discovered her plan later in the day. The day’s events were coming to an end
and the king was holding the daily awards ceremony during which the victors
were brought on-stage and honored. The king went through them one by one,
parading them out for the crowd and presenting each boy with a medallion to
commemorate his victory.

When it
was Rowan’s turn, the princess chose to favor him by stepping forward and
quickly touching her lips to his brow and kissing him once on each cheek. They
were no more than pecks, but Rowan had never felt the brush of a woman’s lips
before and he blushed fiercely. The crowd loved it and the roar afterwards was
deafening.

The
thought of Eliza brought a tingling sensation to his brow, which he promptly
rubbed away. He shook her from his thoughts and continued to make his way down
the deserted, dimly lit streets. He was taking the long way around towards the
woods so that he would have more time to savor his solitude.

Rowan
walked, enjoying the bliss of being alone on such a perfect night. He gazed up
at the stars, the night sky unmarred by clouds. He was so inwardly focused that
he did not hear the footsteps coming from the alleyway behind him.

*           *           *

Byron raced away, dashing madly
through the night. His ears roared, his blood rushed, and his heart pounded in
his chest. Though he knew he was alone and the streets deserted, everyone else
off attending the nightly celebrations, he could not shake the fear that he was
being followed. The sound of his own footsteps echoed and came back to him,
fueling his paranoia.

He
glanced over his shoulder again to make sure he was not being pursued. He had
to get back to the festivities before he was missed, before someone took note
of his absence.

He
stumbled over litter left lying in the streets. Cobblestones threatened to trip
him as he ran, rising up from the paved street as if to grab at his feet. Sweat
dampened his back. Byron forced himself onwards until he staggered, struggling
for breath.

The
street lights of the festivities appeared in the distance, casting a glow upon
the empty market square up ahead. He ran towards it. The lights danced, calming
him.

He would
make it.

There
were no raised voices, no shouts or cries. No one had been there when he
ambushed Rowan, and no one had seen him leave. He was sure.

Byron
stopped running just short of the square and steadied himself using a vacant
windowsill for support, gasping for breath as he did.

“Did you
not work yourself hard enough in today’s competition? If you had extra energy,
you might have won your duel.”

The lord
commander Gannon stood in the shadows of an alleyway, calmly watching him. Fear
gripped Byron. He tried his best to slow his breathing and calm his lungs so he
might appear as though he was in control.

“What’s
wrong? Did you overexert yourself? Perhaps your evening walks should be just
that, walks. It is unseemly to appear overexerted. It makes you weak.” The lord
commander paused. “Or is it that something is bothering you? Perhaps you are
running
from
something.” Gannon took a few steps toward him.

Byron
struggled to hide his fear. The lord commander knew where Byron had gone and
what he had done. He was sure of it. Gannon was a hard man, not one to show
leniency. Trainer Darius would be against him too, and Byron could think of no
way to escape. He would be brought to justice for what he had done. Sweat
marked his brow and his face grew hot. He panted helplessly.

“I
should go,” Byron said. “I will be missed.”

“No.”

Byron stood
rooted to the spot. A cold fear gripped him now, the knowledge of his guilt
weighing heavily on him. Gannon now stood uncomfortably close, preventing Byron
from running.

“I
must—”

“You
will come with me. It would not do for you to be seen returning alone.

A strong
grip steadied him.

They
walked across the deserted square and towards the celebrations. Gannon led him
through the crowds to an empty sitting area. Everyone around them was still
celebrating the day’s events, laughing, singing, and dancing. All talk was of
the competition. No one appeared to have noticed their absence, just as no one
took note of their arrival.

“This
was a hot day, and you have exhausted yourself. Allow me to pour you a drink.”

Gannon
dipped a ladle and filled a cup with wine. He handed the drink to Byron, who
took a hesitant sip.

“I have
watched you compete.” The lord commander said calmly. “You did well to win the
wrestling competition. Your match in the swordsmanship competition the previous
day was amusing, though you lost today.”

Byron
kept silent. He did not know how to react. Was he in trouble? What did the lord
commander want from him?

“You are
nearly ready to face the Trials and take the examinations required for you to
become a proper soldier, are you not?”

Byron
nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His nervousness was beginning to fade.

“That’s
good. I could find many uses for one such as yourself.” The commander gave
Byron a look and at that moment, Byron knew. He knew that the commander could
see right through him, that he knew exactly what Byron had been up to, and that
he did not care.

Chapter 32
                     
 

The streets were deserted as Eliza
made her way back to the castle. She had left Baird and her guards back at the
festivities, where they were no doubt still searching for her. Baird was
probably in a foul mood, as he usually was whenever she managed to go missing.

Baird
had been much more irritable as of late, Eliza thought. He was stressed about
something that he refused to discuss. She had taken to spying on Baird, but her
efforts never seemed to gain her anything but trouble. Baird was a very hard
man to follow and he always knew when he was being watched.

Eliza
was particularly good at sneaking, a skill that she prided herself on very
much, particularly since it was often Baird that she was able to give the slip
to. Baird was very observant, difficult to fool. He always caught her
eventually, though, which was more than she could say of the rest of the
servants. A princess is not meant to wander around without a guardian or a caretaker,
Eliza had been told. Yet Eliza hated to be watched over all of the time, so she
did not care for or listen to such rules of courtly etiquette. She was no
child, she was a princess. She could handle herself.

On this
night, Eliza had been able to slip away using the cover of the crowd and the
excuse of having to attend to herself. Eliza had learned that every guard, no
matter how well trained, would avoid anything involving the toilet. So
naturally it had become one of her favorite ways to excuse herself when she
wanted to sneak, and she took much pleasure in making some of the men
uncomfortable.

Baird
was one of the few men that excuse would not work on. He had nearly bumped into
her as she made her escape, crawling through the crowd to avoid being seen. But
at the last moment something else had caught his attention and she had been
able to get away. She smiled to herself. Today had been a good day for fun. She
had embarrassed Rowan in front of his friends and most of the city, and now she
had fooled Baird. She probably ought to feel bad or guilty, but she was having
too much fun to care. Perhaps tomorrow she would feel her conscience. She was a
princess, so she was entitled to do as she pleased. Tonight would be for her
pleasure.

In
truth, Eliza had little knowledge of where she was or where she was going. Like
most of her endeavors, her escape had not been well planned. Rather, it was a
decision made on impulse, as so many of her decisions tended to be.

She
strode through the streets, keeping her path in the relative direction of the
castle, taking her time as she went. She knew the castle and its grounds well,
but she was not often allowed to explore the city, and never on her own. Her
restrictions annoyed her.

She
walked along, paying little attention to her surroundings. When she heard the
moaning, her imagination took over and she stiffened, suddenly aware of how
dark the night was and how far she had wandered from the celebrations. If she
screamed, would she be heard?

She took
a hesitant step backwards, ready to flee, when the sound came again. She
twisted towards the darkness of an alleyway to her right. It sounded like a
person.

Her
curiosity overpowering her fear, Eliza stepped forward. Her whole body shook as
she leaned forward and peered into the darkness, ready to run if necessary.
There was only the light of the moon to see by, which was little help. She
could make out a lumpy form on the ground. She gasped as she realized who it
was.

Laying
face down in the dirt was Rowan. Eliza rushed to his side and rolled him over.
He was bloodied and slightly bruised, some wounds fresh while others were
probably from earlier during the competition. Rowan moaned something that Eliza
could make no sense of.

“What?”

Another
moan, this one beginning to resemble speech. He stirred, propping himself up
with his arm and waving away Eliza’s steadying grasp. He promptly fell over.

With
difficulty, Eliza managed to drag Rowan to the side of the alley where he could
steady himself against the wall. He sat there for several moments with his eyes
closed, breathing heavily.

The left
side of his face was bloodied, but much of it was dried. It did not seem to be
badly injured. Eliza was glad for that. She would never admit it, but Rowan had
a decent face, with skin that was unmarred by scars or pockmarks from disease.
It was pretty, though by no means extraordinary. She took out a kerchief and
began to dab at him, trying to wipe away some of the blood and make him more
presentable.

“Ouch.”
Rowan flinched away from Eliza’s ministrations. His eyes were now open and he
appeared to be in a good deal of pain.

“What
happened? Who did this to you?” Eliza asked. When Rowan did not answer, she
asked again.

“Please
be quiet,” Rowan growled. “My head feels like it has been split in two. Loud
noises make it worse.”

Eliza
quieted, though she was a little irked that her question went unanswered.
Unable to speak, she settled for once again trying to clean the blood off of
Rowan’s face. She forced him to remain still, telling him just how unsightly he
appeared. He winced but allowed her to continue.

“Well? Are
you going to tell me what happened to you?”

Rowan
turned away from her for a moment. She couldn’t see his face but she knew that
indecision was written all over it.

“Rowan—,”
Eliza started to speak but he cut her off.

“Someone
attacked me from behind. I was ambushed, caught off-guard and knocked out.”

“Do you
know who it was? Was it more than one person?”

“It was
only one person.” A look crossed Rowan’s face, a look that told Eliza that he knew
who had harmed him but that he would not say the name. It was immediately
replaced by a grimace as Eliza drew the cloth across his cheek, cleaning a cut.
Rowan grunted. “At least
try
to be gentle.”

Eliza
ignored him and continued her work. Although still bloody, Rowan was beginning
to look better. “Don’t complain. I am being gentle, but I only have a cloth to
work with and there’s only so much I can do. We really should go and have a
healer take a look at you.”

“I would
prefer not to.”

“Why?”

“Because
I would rather not cause a scandal and become the center of attention. I can
deal with this myself, so please don’t tell anyone.”

Eliza
pouted but did not press the issue. She had made her position clear already.
She dabbed at him again and then pulled away, satisfied with her work. The
cloth in her hand was little more than a blood-soaked rag now.

“Ugh. My
handkerchief is ruined.” She tossed the bloody cloth aside. “And my dress too!
It’s all bloody and stained.” Eliza had been hoping that she could wash away
the dirt she had accumulated in her escape from Baird and save her dress, but
now it was ruined for sure. The blood had already soaked through parts of the
silk, leaving an obvious stain that would raise a lot of unwanted questions.
That meant she could not have the servants mend it for her. What would they say
if they discovered a blood-stained dress among her soiled linens?

“Oh!”
Eliza gave a little gasp as she realized how it would look if she were to
return to the castle dressed as she was. There would be an uproar once the
servants found her, and the Gods only knew what would happen if Baird or her
father were to see her.

“What is
it?” Rowan asked. He steadied himself against the wall as he stood. Eliza
noticed a small bloody stain where his head had rested. She figured that Rowan
must have a wound on the back of his head.

“My
dress is ruined,” Eliza said dumbly.

“Are you
that vain?”

Without
thinking, she punched Rowan hard on the arm. She hurt her hand doing so, but
his grunt of pain gave her a sense of satisfaction.

“I am
NOT vain. But what will be said if I am seen returning like this? I look like I
have killed somebody, or somebody tried to kill.” Her voice rose in pitch as
she became slightly hysterical, though she did not notice and would never acknowledge
such a flaw.

Rowan
suddenly appeared seriously worried. He had obviously not thought of such a
thing. Eliza watched as he looked at himself. His tunic was bloody and he
appeared a mess, though having participated in the Revel he might be able to
explain away such injuries once they were cleaned and treated. Might.

But
Eliza was the princess. She had no such excuses available to her. A princess
that was covered in blood begged many questions, questions to which she would
have no proper answer.

“Could
you sneak back inside and change?”

Eliza
considered the option.

“I
suppose I’ll have to.” It wasn’t as though there were many other options
available. She could not very well enter through the main doors and go to her
room, though she rarely did that anyways. She preferred to sneak around and she
was fairly confident that she could make her way into the castle without being
seen. But she would have to be extra cautious this time and she would need to
ditch her dress afterwards. Perhaps she could bury it or burn it.

“I must
wash myself before I return,” Eliza said. “My hands have blood on them and I do
not want the washing basin in my room to be all bloody.” In truth, Eliza could
explain the wash water away, but she preferred to avoid that conversation if at
all possible.

“There
is a water barrel over there,” Rowan pointed down the alley. “I cannot
guarantee that the water is drinkable, but it should be fit for washing.”

Together
they found the water bin and used the cold liquid to rinse and clean themselves.
They refrained from dipping their limbs in the barrel itself, instead
preferring to use the bucket that sat nearby. Rowan also insisted on tossing a
few bucketfuls of water on the street to wash away most of the blood that had
pooled.

As Eliza
made to leave, Rowan caught her by the wrist.

“Thank
you.”

The
words were sincere and Eliza was touched. Though it was a bad idea after her
wash, she stepped forward and gave Rowan a brief embrace.

“You are
welcome,” she whispered. Then without so much as another word, she hurried off
into the night, leaving the day’s champion to himself.