CHAPTER THREE
“Tristan.”
He stood on a balcony overlooking the mountainside and the valley below. The awe of its stunning splendor was almost too much to register. His head jerked around to see the queen standing behind him. “Yes, ma’am…queen…my lady? I apologize. My customs are a bit different, and I don’t know what the proper way to address you is.”
She wore a dress similar in style to her daughter’s, but it was a pale yellow. She wore no sash over her shoulder as the princess and king had. Her hair was in a tight bun at the back of her head with a few long strands released around her face. A necklace with a rich blue stone hung around her neck.
She smiled. “You may call me Rhea.”
“Oh, no,” he took a step in retreat. “I may not know a lot about kings and queens and castles, but I do know that you don’t address a queen by her name. Not someone like me.”
Her eyes flashed with an edge of amusement. “You do if she grants you that permission.” Her smile slowly lowered. “When you save a woman’s daughter, Tristan, you earn the right to call her whatever you choose.”
“I didn’t—"
“You may call it whatever you wish,” she interrupted him. “But I was there, and I saw what you did. Saying it wasn’t bravery or courage only makes it a braver act.”
He frowned. Her smile returned. “I wish to introduce you to my family…properly.”
He followed her inside from the balcony. Lined up and ready for introductions stood her children. Rhea stepped to the end of the line and placed her hand on the young man’s arm. “This is Quin, my son.” He bowed at the waist.
His light brown hair was longer than Tristan’s and brushed straight back from his face. He wore a white linen tunic with a thin golden belt at his waist. A short, royal blue cape clenched at one shoulder fell down his back. Tristan guessed him to be a couple years younger than his own twenty three.
Rhea moved down the line to the teenage girl who had embraced her earlier in distress. “My youngest daughter Kyra.”
Kyra fashioned a dark green dress that fell straight to her ankles. She bore no sash either. Her chocolate brown hair fell loosely down her back and over one shoulder. She smiled and gave him a slight bow of her head. “Greetings, brave Tristan.”
Rhea stopped at the other end of the line. “You’ve not formally met my other daughter. She is Shaylin.”
Shaylin gave the same small bow of her head as her sister but without the smile. Then her eyes rose and met his. “I offer you my immeasurable gratitude for your actions.”
“My husband is unfortunately handling…matters,” Rhea told him. “But he is Darius.”
Tristan shifted his weight uncomfortably and cleared his throat. Rhea moved back to his side. She laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Please do not be anxious here. No one will harm you. I give you my word.”
He glanced around the room at the back of the castle that he’d been told was the royal hall. “It’s very nice of you to…”
He trailed off as Rhea removed her hand with a deep frown. She stared blankly at the blood that smeared her fingers before her eyes snapped up to his. “You are injured.”
Tristan glanced down at his arm. “Oh, no. It’s okay. His knife got me a little. I looked at it. It’s not bad.”
“Why did you not speak of this?” Rhea asked in distress. “I will have our physician see to your wound immediately.”
“Oh, uh…” Tristan started to stop her, but she was already hurrying from the room. Kyra moved to his side instantly and parted the slit in his sleeve to examine the cut herself. “It’s not that bad. He barely got me,” he told her.
Kyra’s eyes lifted to his. “But he did get you,” was her only soft reply.
He sighed and shrugged. “My own fault. Don’t tackle a man with a knife if you don’t want to be cut.”
His eyes wandered the hall and landed on a flag that had been hung on the far wall. He hadn’t seen it when he’d entered because it was over the door and had been at his back. He took a weak step forward and pointed at the symbol in its center as he paled. “What does that mean? That symbol?”
Kyra and Shaylin exchanged a look at his strange reaction. Kyra answered, “This is the symbol of Barico. It is our royal crest.”
“I…” he took another step forward. “I found a medallion with this symbol on it. It was my father’s.”
“Perhaps your father was Baricoan,” Kyra suggested.
Tristan shook his head weakly. “No. That’s not possible.”
“Do you still have this medallion you speak of?” she asked.
“No, but the last thing I remember before I blacked out and woke up here…” he looked at her. “Was holding that medallion.”
Kyra glanced at the crest over the door. “Well, that’s a curious thing, isn’t it?” She offered him a kind smile. “Once you are mended, perhaps you will allow me to present our home to you with a tour of the grounds.”
• • •
With a fresh, linen bandage around his arm, Tristan strolled slowly alongside Kyra. She led him out of the royal hall. “As my mother mentioned, this is the royal wing, where we live. It has the royal hall,” she gestured behind them, encompassing the room they’d left behind.
“And the royal library,” she continued. “Castle Lochlain boasts quite a collection of books as Lochlain is known for its grand storytellers.”
His brow rose. “Really?”
“Oh, yes,” she smiled. “You’ll not find a finer library in all of Barico.” She led him down the three steps of the entrance to the royal wing. They stepped outside into an enclosed square within the castle walls. “This is the inner courtyard, mostly a safe place for us to enjoy a beautiful day…or for Quin to house his sparring sessions with Kale.”
“General Kale?”
She nodded. “He is the general of the king’s personal guard. We call them the Royal Guard. They are solely responsible for the safety of the king and his family.”
The courtyard was a large patch of green grass and a few trees for shade. A bench here and there for a peaceful perch. Kyra motioned to her right. “The chief advisor’s tower, the chapel along with the chaplain’s quarters.” She moved down the line, pointing each out.
“The smaller tower is the physician’s work space and quarters. The servant’s wing. The second level holds their quarters. If you have need of anything, you may present any of them with your request. They will see to it.”
Tristan pursed his lips. “The chief advisor gets his own tower?” he asked, backtracking.
She laughed. “When you advise a king, you get your own tower,” she confirmed. “Whereas the commander of arms, the man who commands the entire Baricoan army,” she added at his blank look. “Is the king’s right hand, the chief advisor is the king’s left. He advises the king in all matters regarding the kingdom. He is also trusted to oversee certain political matters within Lochlain.”
“I see,” Tristan glanced one last time at the tower.
“Penley is father’s chief advisor.” She hesitated. “He is a bit surly and will not welcome a stranger into the castle easily, but I like to think he means well.”
He chuckled. “I see,” he repeated.
She gave him an amused grin and continued, moving to her left side. “Here you will find the commander’s tower and his general’s quarters. The armory.” Then she pointed toward the front of the castle. “And of course, the main hall and the formal dining hall.”
“The formal dining hall?” he questioned.
“Unless we are having a formal feast or have a special guest that requires more formality, my family and I dine in our wing.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care for the formal dining hall. Whenever we are required to dine there, it is…a bit rigid, and dare I say, a tad pompous.”
Tristan laughed. “Is that where I have to eat?”
Appreciating his good humor, she chuckled. “No. You will be allowed to dine with us in the royal wing, I am
sure. You seem very concerned with food, Tristan.”
Confusion crossed his face. “I do?”
“You request only a meal as your reward,” she stated. “And now you concern yourself with where you will eat rather than where you will sleep.” Humor put a twinkle in her eyes.
He thought about it, then grinned. “I suppose I do. I told you I was hungry.”
She laughed. “Hopefully you will not be required to wait much longer for your reward.”
• • •
Tristan stepped into the royal dining hall a bit hesitantly. When he heard the sound of familiar laughter and saw Shaylin sharing a private moment with her father, he very nearly stepped out again. But King Darius spotted him over his daughter’s shoulder.
“Tristan!” his name boomed across the room. “My good man, please come and join us.”
Shaylin turned and studied him with a quiet but intent gaze. Tristan wavered between retreat and fascination. “I don’t mean to interrupt, your majesty.”
“Nonsense,” the king declared. He strode across the room and pulled Tristan into the room. Then he confided, “I actually do not care to be called your majesty in the privacy of my quarters. When it’s just you and my family, please call me Darius.”
“King Darius?” Tristan asked.
Darius laughed. “No, just Darius. So few call me by my given name. I find it at times a bit…taxing.”
“Oh, Tristan,” Rhea swept into the room with her youngest daughter. “There you are.”
“I’m sorry. Have you been looking for me?” Tristan instantly apologized.
She gave him a warm smile. “Only to tell you that your feast is ready. But you must already know that since you found your way here. Kyra told me you are quite hungry.”
As if to confirm that, his stomach growled noisily. Tristan chuckled nervously. “I am, yes. Thank you. A, uh, lady told me that the, uh…meal was ready.”
“Please, sit,” Rhea requested as she and her husband took their seats at each end of the table.
Kyra stepped forward and snagged his hand. “Would you mind terribly sitting next to me? I’m very curious. I held back all my questions on our walk so as not to bombard you.”
Tristan looked at her and couldn’t help but smile. “It would be my honor, Princess Kyra.”
She laughed. “That sounds very pretentious, but I rather like the way you say it. However, please simply call me Kyra.”
He grinned. “You may call me whatever you like.”
“I would very much like to call you Tristan,” she requested with a chuckle.
“Tristan it is,” he agreed easily.
Quin strode into the room. “I apologize for my lateness.” He pulled up short at Tristan’s presence but continued to the table after a moment.
Once they were all seated, servants ushered in trays of food. He noticed they were all thanked by name. The servant who set his plate in front of him did so with a smile and a head bow.
“Thank you,” he mumbled.
“So, Tristan,” Kyra started once the servants left the room. “May I bombard you with my questions now?”
Rhea spared her daughter a look. “Kyra, Tristan is a guest at our table. He is already anxious and uncomfortable.”
Tristan held up a finger to halt her lecture. “Actually if I may…her frankness is kind of nice. I kind of like it.” When Rhea’s lips curved, he shifted his attention back to Kyra. “Ask and I will do my best to answer.”
Kyra gave him a bright smile. “What is your station? In your land.”
“Oh, well actually, I’m a student. Or I was,” he told her. “Is that what you mean?”
“A student of what?” Darius asked with a curious frown.
Tristan paused to taste the meat that had been served. He hummed in his throat as the flavors hit his tongue and pointed at his plate. “Okay, that’s delicious. Really, really delicious.” Then he gave Darius his attention again. “An…academic student. I go to an academic institution to learn…various things.”
Rhea beamed at him. “You’re a scholar.”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” he chuckled. “I guess I am, yes. I’m a scholar.”
“Do you study a trade?” Darius asked.
Tristan took a moment to try to figure out how he could explain it. “I, um…yeah, I guess so. I…design and construct…equipment that helps accomplish tasks with greater ease.”
“That sounds very prestigious. Your parents must be very proud,” Rhea guessed.
Tristan’s smile froze. “Oh, um. I…wouldn’t really know. My mother passed away before my tenth birthday, and my father left my brother and me two years later.”
“Left?” Kyra asked blankly.
Tristan shrugged. “Yes. He disappeared. Left us. We’re not sure where he went.”
A look of pained regret crossed Rhea’s face. “Tristan, I’m so sorry.”
He held up a hand to wave it away and gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago. My grandmother took us in and raised us the rest of the way. She was a…an amazing woman.”
Kyra touched his arm. “Was?”
Tristan glanced at her. “Oh, yeah. She passed away last year.” Before she could verbalize her sympathy, he cleared his throat. “You know, family isn’t really my strong suit. Next question please.”
Kyra and Rhea shared a quiet look of unspoken pity. Quin spoke up to break the silence. “Do you spar, Tristan?”
Tristan’s brow lowered in confusion. “Spar?”
Quin grinned. “Barico boasts some of the most feared soldiers in all the lands. General Kale has been working with me personally to train me in the art of combat. Do the scholars of your land know combat?”
“Oh,” Tristan’s brow shot back up in surprise. “That kind of sparring. Um, no, not really.”
“General Kale says that his guards told him you were quite forceful with the assassin,” Quin relayed. “I find it hard to believe a scholar with no training could take down an assassin.”
Darius’s eyes narrowed on his son. “You insult our guest at my table?”
Quin shot his father a quick look. “No, father.” His eyes slid back to Tristan. “I was merely inquiring of Tristan’s training.”
“I don’t have any,” Tristan answered him. “But I have a brother.” He glanced at Darius. “Brothers fight.”
Darius smiled. “That they do.”
Quin grinned. “I always wished I’d had a brother.” He gave his sisters a pointed look. “Girls are boring.”
Tristan’s eyes met Shaylin’s with amusement. “Sisters aren’t that bad. My brother’s wife is pretty cool. She always patches me up after my brother finishes beating up on me.” He grinned. “Brothers will ride into battle with you, but sisters will talk you out of the battle completely and back into reason.”
Darius let out a booming laugh and lifted his glass in toast. “Well said.”
“Maybe I can show you a few moves later,” Quin offered. “Might come in handy with your brother.”
“Sure,” Tristan agreed easily.