his army and ride to Montak, where
he would squash any thoughts of
rebellion once and for all. While there,
Vulcan would also have a much-
needed discussion with the current
boy-king, who’d only retained his rule
because Vulcan was merciful and did
not see need to remove a king willing
to swear loyalty to him.
He and his generals had already
observed the squires and soldiers and
were now observing those men skilled
in different weapons. They walked
through the ranks, eyeing potential
soldiers who would leave for the
skirmish in Montak. Vulcan was
currently observing a swordfight
between two of his soldiers. He was
particularly drawn to the fight because
one soldier was smaller and, from
what he could see of his legs through
the leathers, shorter than the other.
Still, the man held his ground, using
cunning and skill to outwit his
opponent more so than brute strength.
Vulcan saw the smaller man feint to
the
right
and
anticipated
his
opponent’s mistake even before it was
made. The bigger man attacked
swiftly,
intent
on
bringing
his
broadsword down hard on the smaller
man’s shield, and unbalancing him for
a quick surrender. Instead, his
broadsword cut through air, he
himself was off-balanced and when
next he spun around, the smaller man
had the tip of his sword, which looked
smaller than any broadsword Vulcan
had seen, near the man’s neck.
“Yield?” the smaller man called in a
voice that sounded familiar. Perhaps
he knew the soldier beneath the
helmet. From his size, the boy could
easily have been a former squire.
“I yield!” the man on the ground
called and the smaller stepped away,
lowering his sword. The bigger man
removed his helmet, clapped him
heartily on the back and went about
finding another partner to practice his
skill.
Vulcan held up a hand, signaling to
the squire who followed behind him to
take the names of the men he was
enlisting for Montak, and approached
the man.
His helmet was still upon his head
and he seemed unaware of his king’s
approach until Vulcan stood directly
before him. He was quite short,
Vulcan recognized. Shorter than he’d
expected. Vulcan towered over him
by almost a full hands-length.
“You are skilled, soldier. Cunning,”
he acknowledged. The soldier dipped
his head in respect but said nothing.
Vulcan continued, “What are you
called?”
“Jamie, Majesty,” was the quick
reply.
Vulcan nodded. Jamie. He surveyed
the
smaller
man
again
before
beckoning his squire close.
“My helmet and shield,” Vulcan told
the young boy, who immediately
handed Vulcan the items he’d been
holding proudly. Vulcan pulled his
sword from his scabbard and flashed
the soldier a smile that revealed clean
white teeth.
“Have you energy for another
fight?” he asked, slipping his helmet
into place. He’d yet to practice for the
day and having a fight with a cunning
soldier seemed the right thing to do.
He especially felt the need to test the
soldier, as he was considering him for
Montak.
The soldier hesitated for a long time
and Vulcan was about to begin
barking commands when the man
spoke up in a low voice. “Yes, liege.”
From the moment that Vulcan had
put on his helmet, eyes had turned his
way. Warriors, soldiers, and squires
alike were aware of their king’s
prowess and whenever it could be
watched, were his loyal audience.
They did not know whom he faced
and soon murmurs about the soldier’s
identity began circulating through the
growing crowd.
They circled slowly. Vulcan waited
for the attack he knew would soon
come and was not disappointed. He
blocked easily, lying in wait for
another
attack,
while
analyzing
Jamie’s footing and stance. The
soldier attacked again and Vulcan
blocked once more and spun away to
avoid the follow-up attack he’d not
expected. The man was quick. He
smiled under his helmet. Small or no,
he would have his squire enlist Jamie
for Montak.
As if sensing he was being
evaluated, Jamie suddenly began to
pull back. He circled, he paced, he
feinted, but he did not attack. Vulcan
launched his attack, forcing the
smaller man back until, in a dangerous
move, he slipped under Vulcan’s arm
and launched an attack of his own.
Vulcan barely turned to ward off the
sword with his shield before the
smaller man began an impressive
assault that was so quick, many of the
soldiers
gathered
blinked
twice,
wondering if they were seeing
correctly. Using his shield and his
weight,
Vulcan
threw
Jamie
backwards and advanced at the same
time. Off-balance from the throw,
Jamie fought hard to keep his footing
as Vulcan’s sword rained down
attacks on his shield. His footing off,
he tripped and went down. Vulcan
was over him instantly, the tip of his
sword barely a hair’s breadth from his
neck.
“Do you yield?” Vulcan asked
loudly.
The soldier’s voice came, strong and
breathy. “I yield!”
Vulcan sheathed his sword and gave
the soldier his arm, pulling him up
easily. In truth, he weighed little.
A cheer went up around them
before the men went back to their
individual trainings.
“Good fight, Jamie,” Vulcan said
gruffly, taking his helmet off and
waiting for the soldier to do the same.
He did no such thing. In fact, he
didn’t seem intent on removing it at
all. Vulcan’s eyes narrowed.
“Thank
you,
Majesty,”
Jamie
replied again, and once more Vulcan
asked himself where he’d heard that
voice, or one similar to it. His eyes
narrowed on the soldier’s helmet.
Was that a Lytherian helmet? He
believed so. So Jamie was Lytherian.
“Is your helmet not stifling you,
Jamie?” Vulcan found himself asking.
And then it happened.
A soldier suddenly approached him,
asking Vulcan to demonstrate a
technique with a sword that he sought
to learn. The soldier’s helmet was in
his hand and it bore a similarity to the
helmet on Jamie’s head. He stared at
the soldier: gold hair cropped short
and golden eyes. Lytherian. The
soldier seemed desperate to have him
demonstrate the technique and Vulcan
was about to ask which technique he
referred to, when from the side, he
saw Jamie moving away. His steps
were quick; he was heading from the
courtyard.
“Halt!” Vulcan roared, and many
men stopped and stared at their liege.
Jamie stopped as well. Vulcan
approached Jamie, who seemed to be
running away from something, and
making Vulcan very suspicious of his
identity. Another soldier stepped into
his path. Golden skin, golden hair.
Lytherian. This one wanted to know
where the soldiers were to meet
tomorrow before they set out for
Montak. Vulcan barely gave him five
seconds of his time but when he
looked up, Jamie was on the move
again, heading swiftly for the entrance
to the castle.
Vulcan pushed the Lytherian soldier
aside and stopped Jamie once more.
By this time, the Morden soldiers
close enough to see what was going
on had gone on the alert. Many were
reaching for their weapons, wondering
what had their king walking so swiftly
through the crowd of men.
“Turn around!” Vulcan ordered
Jamie, angry now and more than
curious to know who was under the
helmet. He remembered the night that
his wife had breached his camp with
the intent to kill him. The Lytherian
soldiers had created a diversion to
keep her safe. He had a feeling that
they were trying to do it now, but for
whom this time?
Jamie pivoted slowly and lifted his
head to Vulcan. All Vulcan saw was
helmet and a small patch of golden
skin.
“Remove your helmet,” he ordered.
“I do not think that—” Jamie began,
only to have Vulcan cut him off by
taking the liberties of removing the
offending piece with his own hands.
No amount of soot and dirt could
have changed her face enough to
make her unrecognizable to him.
From the moment that helmet was off
and he stared into those fiery golden
eyes, he knew that Jamie was Jaisyn.
His wife. His queen. A woman! The
soldier he’d admired, whom he’d
complimented on his skill, whom he’d
considered enlisting for battle, was his
wife
. A range of emotions tore
through him: shock, disbelief, anger,
fear.
He took in her appearance again.
Her hair had been plaited and tucked
under and a meshy black cloth that
covered her head. Her face was
covered in dirt and grime and she
looked more like a dirty street urchin
than a queen. No one would
recognize her except for her soldiers,
whom he would deal with later! He
quickly surveyed the men around him.
None of his soldiers looked mortified,
horrified, or shocked. They only saw
a dirty young boy… the exact image
she and whoever had dressed her had
striven for. He handed her the helmet
immediately. Without a word, she
donned it.
Vulcan leaned his head closer to her
and said bitingly, “Leave now.”
I will
deal with you later.
He did not have
to say it. It was written in his eyes and
across his face.
She turned and walked swiftly from
the courtyard. He immediately spun
on his heel and searched out the two
Lytherian soldiers who’d thrown
themselves in his path to save their
queen. His eyes found them almost
immediately.
“You two… come with me!” He
headed for the stables with the
Lytherian soldiers following behind
him. His squire followed them all.
Deciding that their king was in no
imminent danger, the soldiers went
back to their sparring. Many had been
alerted of the journey to Montak and
were using their time to refine skills
that had not been truly tested for
months.
***
A bath had been waiting for Jaisyn
when she stepped into her room.
Madga helped her remove the armor
she’d borrowed from a smaller
Lytherian soldier while Asha unpinned
her hair. As they helped her remove
her disguise, Jaisyn’s mind whirled.
She’d been caught. And not only
caught… she’d been found out by
Vulcan. Her ears were sensitive to
any sounds coming from outside of
her bedroom. At any moment, she
expected him to walk into the room,
dismiss her ladies and positively tear
her from limb to limb. He was no
doubt angry but she knew that he was
also shocked that a woman had put up
a good fight against him.
She did not allow herself long in her
bath. Asha washed her hair as Magda
scrubbed the grime from her body and
gently washed her face. Lavender had
been added to the water to give it
scent and as soon as Jaisyn believed
that she was clean enough, she stood.
Magda sent her a curious glance but
didn’t hesitate wrapping the robe
around her queen.
She allowed them to dry her skin,
and untangle her wet hair. When