The Queen's Game

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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BURST

www.burstbooks.ca

A Division of Champagne Books

Copyright 2016 by R. J. Hore

ISBN 978-1-77155-244-8

August 2016

Cover Art by Ellie Smith

Produced in Canada

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Champagne Book Group

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Other Books By R. J. Hore

The Dark Lady

Dark Days

Dark Knights

Knight’s Bridge

The Queen’s Pawn

The Queen’s Man

Housetrap

Dial M For Mudder

House On Hollow Hill

Hounds Of Basalt Ville

Murder In The Rouge Mort

The Treasure Of The Sarah Madder

Alex In Wanderland

Menagerie A Trois

Dedication

Dedicated to my wife Barbara who believes in me, my children and grandchildren who tolerate my quirks, and the Freelancers Workshop for their critiquing. A special thanks to my beta reader Leia who marks up the first drafts and my editor, who has the unfortunate job of making sense out of the manuscript.

One

How can I ever trust you again? Princess Desiree-Rose wrenched the ring off her finger, the signet with the green stone, and flung it at him. I don’t think I can ever wed you now. I’m so confused. I hate you. I hate you. She spun around and fled on bare feet, a slender figure disappearing down the dim castle hallway.

Harow stood there, mouth wide open, blinking. Bending down, he picked up the ring. It was the one the dying Duke Rickard gave to him what seemed a lifetime ago when this whole mad adventure began. The ring Princess Desiree-Rose took from his hand when they reached the safety of Duke Owaine’s border castle last year.

You should have swept her up in your arms, kissed her, told her you loved her, and begged forgiveness, said a soft voice from behind him.

He turned around slowly. The young girl Annae stood there, hands clasped together in front of her blue dress.

You are thinking of leaving us, she said. Please don’t.

But... He noticed for the first time the pale pink marks on her wrists and the ring of red around her bare throat. A peasant child he rescued last winter from her burning homestead, Annae almost died after long weeks in bed until a village sorceress cured her using the bones of the long-dead girl, Annabelle. Since then, a touch of strangeness appeared to possess her.

We need you here, Annae whispered, smiled sadly, curtsied, and backed away. We must go. Gerrard will be searching for us. Don’t leave. She faded back into the depths of the noisy crowd inside the Great Hall. The celebration of Queen Reginee’s wedding to Duke Owaine Montagne was going full roar with music and dancing and much loud laughter.

Gerrard, his squire aged twelve, and the same age as Annae, was fascinated with the girl. He would be sad to leave Gerrard behind today.

Harow stood still for a moment. Leaning back against the cold stone wall, he shook his head trying to clear the growing cobwebs. Him married? To the princess! The insanity of such an idea never crossed his mind. What dirt-poor farm boy would even think of wedding so far above his station, and to the daughter of the high queen of the kingdom, no less? Well, Reginee was the high queen, before the revolution where her usurper husband was slain and they set off on their cross-country odyssey. Today she married her mountain duke. The way Reginee spoke, she held no desire to recover the throne.

True, on the long road here she named Harow a duke for saving the royal family, and tonight even granted him a small castle. He was not cut out for this life.

Far better I escape south to the family farm and the simpler ways. But...

The image of Desiree-Rose standing in front of him on the dais burned before his eyes. Today, for the wedding of her mother, her long black hair was piled up high on her head and interwoven with tiny chains of gold and silver. Tiny jeweled daggers hung from her ears. The plunging silver gown she wore clung like a second skin. A high necklace of gold and pearls decorated her throat. Her back, bared almost to the waist, displayed a rigid backbone that would have done a royal guardsman proud.

Harow thought he’d never seen a sight so...lovely. She appeared much older than he remembered. A pity she owned a temper to match that of a hungry mountain lioness.

"I was probably fortunate she didn’t use her sword on me moments ago. I was a dense fool. Why should I ever suspect she spoke of marrying me in all her wedding chattering? He shook his head again. Can I picture staying here playing the part of brow-beaten consort, or worse, taking her home to introduce to my family and our mud-soaked farm? Two fish far from water."

The hour was getting late if he was going to make a break for his distant home and escape the insanity of royalty and kingdoms. He glanced at a high window set in the castle wall, afternoon already. There was a cough. A servant waited nearby in the corridor.

Duke Harow, there are some people asking to see you. Say it’s important. They are waiting just inside the front castle gates. Will you follow me?

Yes. He slipped the ring into his pocket. The interruption would give him a good excuse to go out into the courtyard and be near the stables. Perhaps this fury from Desiree-Rose was a sign from the bloody indifferent and uncaring saints he should leave High Vale. Harow followed the servant out to the courtyard and hoped the fresh air might help clear his head. He’d get rid of this nuisance, mount up and break for home before anyone inside was the wiser.

Two men and a woman stood in the shadows beside a loaded wagon hitched to a pair of tired horses. Harow approached the group frowning. They seemed almost familiar. The woman stared at him for a moment, ran forward and flung her arms around his neck. She crushed him to her breast.

I was afraid you were dead. Had to take the chance. Why didn’t you write?

Your mother’s been driving us crazy, said his older brother Plou. He stood back, arms crossed over his chest. Should be ashamed of yourself. Never think of others, do you.

Look like you’re doing well, said his Uncle Wil, grinning and examining the fabric of Harow’s shirt. Pretty fancy garb for a servant. He poked Harow in the ribs and raised one eyebrow. Filled out a bit and grown taller, too, eh lad.

You’ll have to tell us everything that’s happened to you, his mother Mareon said, clinging tight to him. She began to weep.

What, what are you all doing here? Harow managed to get out through a mouthful of her hair. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Glad to see you too. His brother sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Well, after the city fell, the country went straight into the hands of the Twenty Deadly Devils, so to speak. Madness and vicious outlaws everywhere. Had to fight or hide to stay alive. Farm almost burned down twice toward the end of winter. By then we’d heard rumors you were living the high life way up north, so we packed up everything we had left, and here we are.

So, Wil said, gazing up at the castle, a broad grin on his face, got any room for homeless relatives?

Figure it’s the least you can do to make up for abandoning your mother, Plou spit out, glaring at Harow. We had to take the long bloody way to get here. Just about died several times.

We do have some old dried salt pork left to sell, Wil said. Know anyone around here might be interested?

Harow blinked. His head spun. His family stood right here in front of him. They’d abandoned the family farm. He was trapped in High Vale, with a royal princess who hated him, her mother who would not accept insults to her daughter lightly, and the queen’s new husband, the Duke of Montagne, who would take a grim view of any affronts to his family. He didn’t even want to think about the evil magician who appeared to have returned tonight seeking revenge.

You don’t look well. His mother felt his brow. Are you ill?

I take it you are some kind of a servant here, Plou said, glancing up at the castle towers turning blood red in the late-day sun. I don’t suppose you can arrange for decent accommodation until we are settled."

We’ve heard rumors he is more than a servant. Wil grinned. Well lad, what can you do for your family? Find us a barn to bunk down in for the night? I should take care of the horses and wagon. This has been a long hard day.

Harow freed himself from his mother’s embrace, although she still clutched on to one hand. He glanced at the manservant standing in the background. Have someone look after the wagon and horses. See they are safe. He ground his teeth. Can you find accommodation tonight for...these three travelers, on the castle grounds?

The man shrugged. That may prove difficult, Duke Harow. The castle and stables are full. The wedding guests, you know. He held his palms out for emphasis. Inside the town of High Vale even all the inns are overflowing. Not an empty room anywhere. Everyone came in from the countryside for the celebrations.

Duke? Both Wil’s eyebrows went up.

Plou snorted. Obviously the man is blind as well as slow-witted.

Harow’s mother squeezed his hand. Where we must sleep doesn’t matter. I’m used to bunking down beneath our wagon.

Harow pointed at the servant. You take care of the horses and wagon, I’ll see to the sleeping arrangements.

Since he was now unable to flee for home, he might as well make use of his chambers in the castle. Bring what you will need for tonight. You can stay in my rooms. Tomorrow we will leave for my holding. Although he had no idea what property the queen gifted him at today’s ceremony. By the brief description, his new castle might well be an ancient ruin.

He led the way across the courtyard, Mareon clinging tight to his hand and Plou and Wil following.

Nothing much here to compare with the palace of the high king back in the city, Plou commented.

True, Wil said. This castle does not appear to have been looted and burned.

Harow offered silent prayers to Good Saint Anxious they would make their way through the corridors without meeting anyone. He shared the temporary quarters with his friend, Captain Daneld, and Daneld’s wife Gwendolyn, as well as Gerrard. He counted beds in his head and knew they were short. They rounded a corner and came face-to-face with Queen Reginee and Duke Owaine, walking arm-in-arm, and who appeared to be sneaking away from their wedding feast.

Owaine looked guilty; Reginee giggled and held a handkerchief up to her mouth.

Who have we here? Reginee leaned against her husband.

Ah, some visitors. Come t-t-to s-s-see me. Harow stuttered and wished he could disappear.

Welcome. I’m the new duchess, Reginee said. She winked at him.

Owaine’s face turned red. Her majesty is feeling a wee bit unwell. She is going to lie down for a few minutes. We will be returning to the festivities shortly.

We are both going to lie down. Reginee winked at Harow again. I cannot guarantee how long this may take. She grinned up at Owaine and rolled her eyes.

Yes. Of course. Excuse me while I escort these guests to their quarters. Harow made herding motions toward his visitors.

His relatives glanced at the couple, wide-eyed.

Hurry back to the hall, Reginee called out as Owaine shepherded her away toward their chambers. I expect to have at least one dance with you tonight and... She whirled around in the middle of the corridor and pointed at Harow. You track down Desiree-Rose and find out what is bothering her. That’s an order. They disappeared around a corner, followed by four guards at a discreet distance.

Who are they? His mother had a firm grip on his arm.

The High Queen and the Duke of Montagne, Harow mumbled. Keep moving. We’re almost there.

I suspect the lady was tipsy, Wil said, grinning broadly.

Disgusting. Plou shook his head. No sense of decency.

Who? Mareon stared up at her son.

She said she was a duchess. Wil slowed to admire a painting.

I suppose she is that now too. Harow led them to a door. These are my temporary quarters. Everyone inside.

My but you have a lot of space in here. Mareon stared around the rooms. There was a small antechamber and two bedrooms.

You three can have this room. The other is occupied. Harow motioned toward the chamber he shared with Gerrard. I will go down to the kitchen and bring back something to eat.

I can go with you, Wil volunteered. Give you a hand.

No, stay here and rest, I’ll be right back. Harow escaped into the corridor. He frowned. He wasn’t ashamed of his family. Of course not, but probably best to keep them out of the way, what with all the celebrations going on, and strangers wandering through the castle.

By the beards of the Seven Saints, what am I going to do with them? He set off down the hallway.

When he returned several minutes later carrying a jug of wine and a platter of meat and cheese he found Daneld and Gwendolyn had come in and were thick into a conversation with his family. The young couple brought their own flask of wine and a whole roast chicken. A party was in progress. Harow sighed, gazed at the ceiling, and joined in.

The hour was late by the time everyone settled into their respective rooms. Over his mother’s protest, Harow stretched out in the antechamber, his back against the wall. Mareon warranted the bed, Plou and Wil lay down on the floor near her. Harow was still awake when Gerrard slipped into the front room.

Harow, sir, what are you doing out here?

He peered up at his squire and frowned. "All the beds are taken. What are you doing, wandering the castle this late? The sun will be up in a few hours."

Gerrard grinned and flopped down on the floor beside Harow. The dancing went on until after the midnight hour. Being a courtly gentleman, I must therefore walk Annae back to the princess’ chambers.

Harow raised an eyebrow. You, a gentleman? His squire’s speech had certainly improved in these last months from his rough hill-talk to civilized, when he wished.

Gerrard yawned. He closed his eyes. Do you think Annae’s gone strange sometimes?

Since she spent most of her time with us at Grey Crag unconscious in her bed, I didn’t get to know her. What do you mean, strange? Besides the fact she sees things others don’t, and stands up to ghostly magicians?

She said tonight she was changing her name. The ill-tempered princess told her she approved.

Desiree-Rose is not ill-tempered. Well, that might be an exaggeration. She has had a difficult childhood.

Do you consider growing up in a palace full of servants with everything you wish for, difficult?

Harow changed the subject. What name has Annae chosen?

Annabelle, that’s strange eh?

Harow straightened up and stared at Gerrard. The youth was almost asleep, a smile on his lips.

Gerrard covered his head with his jacket. She did let me kiss her though.

Annabelle was the name of the ghost who haunted their tower back in the border fortress of Grey Crag. She was the ghost of a young girl executed by her own father three hundred years ago. More important, Annabelle’s bones were used by a sorceress in a ceremony to save the life of the dying farm-girl, Annae. Harow couldn’t recall seeing the ghost after that ceremony. He found it difficult to get to sleep, and tossed and turned until dawn.

Two

Harow’s original idea was to leave for Upper High Vale, his new estate, at first dawn’s light. Unfortunately, as things seemed to be going for him lately, his plans were delayed.

We’re leaving the comforts of Duke Owaine’s castle for a pile of rocks out in the country? Gerrard gaped at his master. Why would we want to do that? Besides, your noisy princess will never let you go. Jacket still covering his head, he rolled over and groaned. By the Pilgrim’s Bloodied Feet, I think it’s still dark out.

Go to the kitchen and see about some food for my guests.

Think of all the supplies we will need. I’ll take a week to gather everything up.

We are leaving today. This is my final word to you. Harow peered in on his family. They were all still sound asleep.

Gerrard stepped out into the corridor, grumbling. Old Cerdic, the queen’s servant was waiting.

Here’s another one never sleeps, Gerrard said, starting for the kitchen.

Harow sighed. Yes?

Her majesty and the duke wish to speak with you this morning. Cerdic allowed a faint smile. She said you are to attend to the royal chambers in the half hour before high noon, no earlier.

Couldn’t this wait for another day? I’m certain they are both too busy. Probably too tired and suffering from lack of sleep and over-use of wine to be bothered with the likes of me.

They were both quite insistent. The newly-weds are aware you are anxious to leave High Vale for your new lands.

The narrowed gaze Cerdic gave Harow indicated his hosts might know he wished to leave, and not necessarily to stay in Montagne.

The queen must read minds, and by the Five Hundred useless Saints, she sees right inside my skull. He shook his head. Unfortunately Gerrard is correct. We’ll be lucky to get out of here today.

~ * ~

The castle was unusually quiet as Harow made his way toward the chambers occupied by Queen Reginee and Duke Owaine. The few folk he met in the hallways seemed to be walking on tip-toe, or suffering from severe headaches, by the grimaces he received in passing. He did feel fortunate. None of the particular court ladies he wished to avoid, or the royal princess, appeared to be moving about at this hour.

He nodded to the six guards and knocked. Mathilde, the queen’s large personal maid and bodyguard, opened the door.

Well, aren’t you a fine sight. She towered over him and motioned to enter. I searched everywhere for you last night. You owed me a dance at least. Eyebrows raised, she looked him up and down. You must have had a good time. Slept in your clothes last night, did you?

Harow sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for dangerous idle talk with the small giantess. The duke and...the queen are expecting me. He was still uncertain of the proper address for Reginee now the queen had gone and married the duke. In his mind she was still the queen.

They are having breakfast. You may go in. Mathilde gestured toward a closed inner door.

Duke Owaine and Queen Reginee sat at a small table. They were wrapped in their robes. An untouched roasted chicken and a pile of cheese almost filled the table. A steaming pot of tea and two cups completed the ensemble.

She insisted we had to see you before you left. The duke didn’t look up. He yawned.

Reginee smiled and held out her hand for Harow to kiss. Please be seated, my gallant duke. She indicated a third chair.

He sat straight-backed and stiff.

I know you are anxious to ride out and examine your new home. She poured him a cup of the tea. There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you first, and Owaine wants to tell you about your new holding of Upper High Vale." She patted her husband’s hand.

Yes. Of course. Owaine glanced over at Harow. His eyes were bleary-red and his voice hoarse. The place is not a complete ruin. You will need a carpenter and some workers to make it livable.

You will take an escort with you, Reginee said. At least a half-dozen good men.

I don’t need... Harow began.

"That is a Royal Command, she said, smiling. You may take more if you think you will need them. Up to a dozen. I recommend you pick from the men who followed you here."

Don’t argue with her, Owaine said. Completely useless.

Now dear. She squeezed his hand and glanced at Harow, winking. Please continue, Owaine dear.

The duke sipped his tea. The place consists of a stone keep and an attached hall. Used to be the fortress guarding the eastern road coming in here from Caritas. My grandfather built a larger border castle a few leagues farther east after the last war. You should be safe enough. The keep is on a high bluff overlooking the road. You may have to fix the roof and clean the place up. Last I heard someone kept sheep in the hall.

There is another matter I wish to discuss. Reginee set her cup on the table and nibbled on a piece of cheese. She frowned. Her eyes held a glint of cold steel. "I suspect you recognized the face of the demon who dared to try and disrupt my wedding."

Most of our guests believe it was a magic show we arranged for their entertainment, Owaine said.

I’m not sure. I don’t know. Everything happened so fast. In truth, his gaze had been diverted, first by the sight of the young girl Annae shrieking Be gone! and flinging a bouquet of flowers into the column of smoke and flame, followed immediately by Desiree-Rose charging forward, sword drawn. Before the princess could leap from the dais and attack the glaring face materializing in the swirling pillar the column fell apart and dissolved. He remembered the vague image of a skull, nothing more.

That was the work of the magician, the evil Machia. You do remember him, don’t you?

Machia! But he is dead. We saw him die when his castle was destroyed.

We saw the castle fall into the gorge. We did not see what happened to his body.

Harow shuddered.

We suspect his appearance is linked to the attack on Grey Crag. Owaine glanced up. I understand you are familiar with the barbarians known as the Blue Azurae. They harassed the countryside around Grey Crag for a week. By the Pilgrim’s Bloodied Feet, they were no match for men in armor. We drove them away. I sent reinforcements but they should not be needed.

You see how this all fits together, she said. "My nightmares, the attempted kidnapping, the seizing of my daughter. The Azurae could not