The Broken Crown

Chapter 17

Asha

 Asha sat in the cold breeze wearing a thick cloak, which had been a gift from the Kahari. It had been his when he was a boy, he’d told her when he gave it to her as they travelled north.

 The capital had been so exciting when she first came there; with feasts and coronations, not a moment had been quite. Because of her age and culture, she had heard so many rumours from people who did not know she was listening. Two handmaidens who’d whispered and giggled that the King had not yet bedded a woman, but that did not mean he had not bedded anyone. A woman and her lord husband, discussing in hushed voices whether Adrianne had been placed on the throne by a plot to move the power to the Lamarcks. A tall man who was not a lord, but whose words still seemed to weigh heavily, telling a man who was a lord, but whose words did not weigh heavily, that an uprising was on its way, trust him.

 But when the Queen and her court left the capital, not much had been left behind. Thomas had told her to stay behind. Travelling was not something for someone young like her; even the princess had been left behind. So she spent her days in the gardens where the plants’ growth was restricted to an ironic attempt at perfection.

 It was on one of those days that she had her first taste of the uprising of which the not-lord had spoken.

 She was wearing a dress which the Queen had graciously had made for her. Asha wondered why. They had never spoken, and certainly not about clothing. It was a tight dress that restricted her movement, much like the plants were restricted from growing.

 Her thoughts were on the Kahari. He’d been angry with the King and the Queen and the old Queen as well, swearing war to his closest. In his anger, he’d forgotten his rational mind. Equem had agreed there was no way they would be able to win their freedom on the battlefield. The northeners were many steps ahead, both with the amount of soldiers and the development of battle tactics. No, war was not the solution.

 As she sat there, seeking answers, a soldier entered the garden. “You should go to your room, milady,” he told her.

 Asha stood up. “What is it?”

 “A group of bandits have broken into the castle, milady.”

 Furrowing, she looked around her. The castle was so well guarded. “How is that possible?”

 “Most of the royal guard is protecting the King and Queen on their travel, milady.” He gestured to the archway from which he had come. “I have been asked to escort you safely to your chambers.”

 She bowed her head gracefully, the way Thomas had taught her. That was all that he’d taught her; courtesies and thank you’s. “Thank you,” she said before letting him lead her to her chambers. These days, the halls were always half-empty, but now there was not a single person in sight. Their steps resonated in the quiet corridor.

 Once they reached her room, the guard scoured the room for intruders before standing in front of her. “I’ll be right outside, milady.” And then he left.

 Asha went directly to the window, looking out at the courtyard. Five or so royal guardsmen stood in a cluster, debating loudly. Just then two guards came out from the buildings around them, carrying between them a fighting man. He was greasy and dirty, unshaved and tired-looking. His eyes were red-brimmed and wild.

 The cluster of men collected around the man, nodded to each other as they spoke. Asha could not make out what they were saying, not even if she opened the window and leaned out, but she could tell that the man was frightened from his eyes, which widened every now and then. Then he was carried off again.