Iola plucked another primrose between her thumb and forefinger, twirling it until it crumpled. Matilda had been chattering for nigh on half an hour about borrowing a dress for the festival, but try as she might, Iola couldn't pay attention.
'Iola,' Matilda said, pulling the flower crown from her hands. 'You'll never finish in time.'
'Oh,' she said, turning to look out one of the glass windows from the Queen's rooms.
'Shall I do it for you? I think it would look lovely with a few of these yellow poppies and some of these darling little white blossoms here,' Matilda hummed as she took over the work.
'Do you ever…' Iola suddenly burst. 'Do you ever wish there was more to our days than this?'
'Than what?' asked Matilda, holding up her flower crown, smoothing down a few stray leaves.
'Never mind,' Iola huffed, going back to starting out the window.
Matilda had been poor company lately, throwing herself into every aspect of planning and preening. Every time Iola attempted to broach the subject of her father's letter, her friend would change the subject or say she did not want to speak on it. Iola was sympathetic, but Matilda's insistence at burying her own disappointment had only served to feed the growing boredom and restlessness brewing within Iola for quite some time.
She could not blame her mother and father for wanting her to be safe and cocooned within the walls of Caer Dathyl. The fever that had struck when she was little left her prone to sickness, and her lungs had never fully recovered. She often needed to pause after a few flights of stairs to catch her breath. Riding and running and vigorous exercise had never agreed with her either, leaving the adventuring and heroism to the rest of her family.
Luckily, Matilda was never interested in those things anyway. But Iola often wondered if things had been different, if the fever hadn't weakened her body, what her life would have looked like.
She sighed to herself, listening to the inane chatter of the court ladies. It would be so much easier, she mused, if there wasn't a huge aching pit in her chest; that longing she felt for something more.
Sometimes she imagined cutting it out of her breast with a knife. Then she could place it on the mantelpiece, or hang it on a wall, or even lend it out to someone else for a time. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much if she could look at it from a distance.
The ache had gotten so bad this week she even offered to help the steward go over his account books, just for a chance to escape the heady scent of florals. Of course, she didn't mean to stumble upon the boys in the library. Queen Teleria would have given her an earful about eavesdropping-
'See? The colour brings out the blue in your eyes. Coppers and golds, you'll look so beautiful!' Matilda was beaming at her own handiwork. 'You should let me pick your dress for you as well.'
'You should,' Iola said, forcing a smile.
Matilda's brown eyes shone. When she was happy, Iola reckoned she looked like a doe; thick lashes and wet, round eyes with a smattering of freckles across her nose. She remembered the first day she met Tilly; a proud, stubborn girl who wouldn't let anyone see her cry. Iola stumbled upon her a week later huddled behind a curtain in a window well, the heels of her hands pressed to her eyes, as if she could have forced the tears back in.
The memory squeezed Iola's heart. She couldn't imagine a parent willingly abandoning their child. Suddenly, she felt ashamed for her rather uncharitable thoughts toward Matilda earlier.
'Really! Oh I can't wait! I had an excellent idea for trimming the dress you'll be lending me. Here, let me show you!' Her friend said, waving her arms about as she spoke.
Iola smiled, watching Matilda, letting her thoughts wander again. At least, she thought, her idleness was making someone happy.
Eventually afternoon turn to evening and Matilda went to see about mending a pair of slippers. Iola was happy to be left alone, admiring the view from the tower as the sun stained the sky purple and red. Running a finger along the delicately wrought panes of glass, she watched as clouds gathered over the Eagle Mountains.
A red dragon, a white mare, her brother, galloping atop his horse. But there had been more; a wall of darkness waiting for him. Waiting for all of them.
The hall was covered in boughs of ivy and holly and juniper. Soft candlelight flickered off the stone walls and warmed the reds and golds of the tapestries, giving everything a golden hue. The musicians tuned their instruments as people began to gather in the great hall. Matilda watched from an alcove, holding her flower crown in her hands, admiring the scene.
Two yeomen were arguing about how to hang one of the larger boughs over a doorway. After five minutes of manoeuvring it was still crooked. Matilda jammed the crown on her head and fisted her hands in her skirts, readying to march over to them and explain how it should be done.
'There won't be a wildflower left in Prydain after tonight.'
'Rhys!' Matilda jumped a little when she heard his voice. 'You shouldn't skulk about like that!'
Rhys just smiled his crooked smile and leaned forward. For a wild moment, Matilda thought he was going to kiss her. She stood stock still, unsure whether to be frightened or thrilled.
He plucked a field rose out of the flowers about her head and held it to his nose.
'You and Iola are opening the dancing,' she said, gesturing to his plain jerkin and trousers. 'You're dressed… you look like you're about to go out on patrol.'
'There's more to being a prince than handsome garments,' Rhys said. He tucked the rose back into Matilda's crown. 'You look very well.'
In the corner of her vision, Matilda could see a gaggle of court ladies staring at them. She suddenly realized that the two of them were in a shaded alcove, apart from the rest of the gathering crowds.
With growing consternation, she gripped his hand. It was calloused from hard work. 'Come, we shouldn't be-'
Rhys tugged her back into the shadows. 'Save me a dance, will you?'
Matilda was sure she was red from the top of her head down to her toes. 'Very well.'
'Good,' he said, placing a kiss on the inside of her wrist.
He walked out into the hall after that, leaving Matilda pressing the backs of her hands to her cheeks, trying to bring down some of her flushed skin. This won't do, she scolded herself, this won't do at all. Pull yourself together.
'Is everything alright?' It was Iola.
Matilda whirled around. 'Of course! Why wouldn't it be?'
Iola was biting her lip, her eyes flicked back to the hall. Her brow furrowed when she turned back to Matilda.
'Are you feeling well?' Matilda asked, taking a step toward her.
Iola looked like a nymph in the candlelight, her thick brown hair fell to the middle of her back and a few petals had caught in the strands. Matilda usually knew when Iola had taken ill, but tonight she looked the picture of good health.
'I fear I am not,' she replied. Her mouth turned down in a frown. 'My body is chilled, I am worried a fever is coming on.'
'Let me see you to the apartments.' Matilda reached for Iola's arm, but she shrugged her off.
'No, please,' she said. 'You've worked so hard, enjoy the dancing. And the gloating, Gwendolyn looked positively green with envy.'
'If you insist,' Matilda said. 'It will be difficult to face those clucking hens without you.'
Iola laughed before she took her leave, 'Oh I am sorry I'll miss the verbal sparring. Would you tell my mother I have turned in for the night? No need for her to come to me. I'll be exhausted enough without her prodding.'
'Alright,' Matilda said with a smile.
After Iola left, Matilda found the Queen speaking to a cantrev lord. She was laughing at something he'd said.
'Matilda, come meet Lord Iwan.' The Queen said, beckoning her over. Matilda had known the High Queen long enough to see when she required rescuing from a blowhard lordling.
'I apologize Lord Iwan,' Matilda said with a deep curtesy. 'May I beg a moment of her Majesty's time?'
Lord Iwan took the moment to say one last things about a land dispute with another lord before bowing and kissing the Queen's hand. The High Queen smiled until he was out of sight.
'Llyr save me from these men and their fence lines,' she muttered. 'Now, do you really need me for anything?'
'Just to tell you that Iola is abed, feeling unwell,' Matilda reported. When concern flashed across the Queen's eyes, she decided to fib. 'It's nothing a few days and a bit of sweet cakes won't solve. Her courses have come on strong.'
The High Queen softened, 'Oh very well. The plights of you princesses! I never had such luxury growing up. At Caer Dallben-'
'Oh yes, Caer Dallben, where you walked barefoot and had twigs in your hair,' Queen Teleria, plump face shining, had joined them. 'Thank goodness you gave me the charge of your girls. Angharad is incorrigible, but Iola and Matilda,' she raised a hand to the decor, 'have done very well indeed at princess duties. Though your knitting leaves something to be desired, eh Matilda. Where is Iola? We should get the dancing started, a good feast is quickly forgotten without dancing, mind you.'
Matilda reported the news to Queen Teleria. 'But then who will open the dancing?' she asked, colour rising in her cheeks. 'These things must be observed properly. We do not any new brides have we? Any visiting lords have brought daughters with them?'
'Tilly,' the Queen said. 'Why don't you dance with Rhys?'
Both Queen Teleria and Matilda shrank back in something akin to horror. The Queen narrowed her eyes, 'Oh what is it now?'
'Highly improper!' Queen Teleria admonished. 'An unmarried girl and the prince of the realm,' she shook her head vigorously. 'No, no, I could certainly not allow it.'
Matilda knew the High Queen had lost her patience when she grabbed a goblet off a large silver platter and took two large gulps. 'Geese, the lot of you,' she said, pointing her sloshing goblet at both Matilda and Queen Teleria. 'Good Llyr also save me from court ladies and these insipid customs! Taran!'
The Queen snagged the High King by the arm as he was walking by. Leading him through the considerable crowd, the High Queen clapped her hands and gestured to the musicians. 'Play a lively tune!'
A shout went up from the guests as other couples flocked to the middle of the room to join the High King and Queen. Matilda watched the two of them in admiration as they smiled at one another. The King said something that made the Queen laugh heartily. Matilda sighed, wondering how the Queen was so easily able to make people like her.
She did not have long to think before someone grabbed her hand and was dragging her onto the dance floor.
'This isn't-'
'Yes I know,' Rhys said. The dancing had already begun and he swung her into the throng of other couples.
After a few moments she forgot to be upset with him. The dance was quick and full of spins, with one section where Rhys lifted her high in the air. Matilda found she couldn't suppress her smile.
There was a loud round of applause at the end for the musicians, and before Matilda could speak to him, Rhys was gone. Her mood was too joyous to care. She was asked to dance for another two songs, and the danced a third with Lord Iwan, who only wanted to put in a good word with the royal family.
Finally she was able to slip away for a cup of wine. Feeling flushed from all the dancing she fanned herself, tugging on the neckline of her dress. Gwendolyn had caught herself a handsome dancing partner, and a few other of the Queen's ladies were making eyes at eligible bachelors. She suddenly wished Iola was there so they could have a laugh about some inane bit of gossip, or make fun of the drunk cantrev lords.
Matilda found herself looking for Rhys, but couldn't spy him amongst the young men. In fact, she'd not seen Owain or Gareth or any other members of the royal household. Deciding to go off to find Iola, she placed her cup of wine down on a long table and discreetly slipped out of the hall.
Walking down a long corridor, Matilda followed the drafts of night air coming through the windows until she was out in the courtyard. The sounds of merrymaking were muffled as she leaned against the cool, rough stone of the castle and drew in a deep breath. It was not full dark out yet; the sky was a very deep blue and the moon seemed nothing more than a bright pearl nestled in dark velvet.
It was difficult to believe her family might be looking at the same moon, as far away as they were. And who among them would be wondering after her?
She was the youngest of five brothers. Her mother had died giving birth to her, but her grandmother, stern old bear she was, had raised her up. Was she still alive? The sparse letters she received every few years from her father would have her believe so.
The great well of sadness was just starting to crack open within her when Matilda noticed something strange. Blinking her eyes she saw the King's horse, Melynlas, walking out toward the entrance of the keep. The stallion had been fully tacked up, with bulging saddle bags lashed over his hindquarters.
Taking a step forward, she also saw that there was a rider beside him, dressed in plain clothes. They were certainly not the King, and though she knew Rhys borrowed the horse from time to time, the person leading the stallion was far too small and fine-boned to be mistaken for the prince.
Matilda pushed off the wall and made ready to run inside, but the echo of her slippers on the flagstones made the thief turn to face her.
The two stopped and stared at one another for a moment.
'Iola?' Matilda asked, almost afraid to believe her own eyes. 'What are you doing?'
Iola held an index finger to her lips. 'The boys have gone out somewhere,' she explained in a low voice, 'I'm going to go after them.'
'Going to go after them!' Matilda repeated. 'But you're unwell!'
She shook her head. 'No, I'm feeling very well actually.'
Matilda turned to go back into the hall, shaking her head. 'You should be-'
'No,' Iola said, gripping Matilda's arm. 'No please don't tell my mother.'
'But-'
'But nothing.' Matilda had never seen her friend so insistent. Her blue eyes pleaded with her silently.
Matilda shook her head, thinking of a long ago promise she'd made the Queen. 'I am sorry,' she whispered, turning back to the torches of the great hall.
Before she could, Matilda heard a muffled gasp. Melynlas whinnied. Spinning around, she saw that Iola had been dragged away from the stallion, a thick arm around her neck.
'Don't move,' the man said, in Matilda's own language. 'Where is the map?'
Her heart stopped. It was one of the men from the farm. Matilda felt her shaking muscles bunch beneath her skin, but she couldn't make them move. 'Run!' Iola gasped out. The man clapped a gloved hand over her friend's mouth.
Before she could move she felt a hand grip her waist. Then a hand was covering her face. It stunk of sweat and earth. Matilda's heart was pounding. She struggled against her captor. Melynlas whinnied again, ears pinned against his head.
'Get that horse!' her captor hissed.
Matilda stopped her writhing for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Dragging her closer to the horse, the man used his other free hand to reach for the white stallion's reins.
When in engaged in battle with a rapscallion, The Queen's voice rang in her head, a stamp to the foot does more damage than one may think.
'This damned thing is a demon!' The assailant was failing to calm to horse, who was now snorting and pawing at the ground.
Matilda reared back, bringing her foot down as hard as she could on the man's boot. He shouted in surprise. Before he could tighten his grip, Matilda slammed her elbow as hard as she could into his ribs. She was met with nothing but hard bulk, but the force of the blow was enough to loosen his hold on her for just long enough. With a shout she sprang forward, landing on Melynlas' neck.
The great stallion was done being trifled with. Swinging his hindquarters around, the horse knocked Iola and her captor to the hard ground. The man groaned. Iola hurried to stand.
'Go!' Matilda shouted, hauling her friend to her feet.
Melynlas delivered a swift kick to one of the men. The other went to help him. 'More!' he shouted. 'We need more men!'
Matilda could see another few shadows entering the courtyard. 'Come on!' Iola shouted, gripping Matilda's forearm. Melynlas already started galloping as Matilda pulled herself onto his back. Wrapping her arms around Iola's middle, she buried her face in her boy's tunic, not daring to look at the chaos around them.
'Fly!' Iola yelped, leaning forward. 'Fly Melynlas!'
Author's Note: Hi everyone, thanks for the sweet DM's. Looking forward to continuing this one on. Apologies if you're catching typos- I'm on a deadline with another project so trying to get these out as quickly as possible.
