Chapter 4: Slit throats

It was one of those dreadful days. The queen was locked up in her study and no one would dare to knock (or on some occasions even walk past) her door. These days were frequent the past two years. She would be in a fit if anyone would come to show their face. The reason of this volatile characteristic? Is unknown.

Riona had sent two lords home. Perceive it as an elimination of some kind. Lord Humphrey and Leonard had been turned away. She had seen no reason to keep them around. To her convenience, they had seen no point in staying either.

That left 9 more lords to face. Nine lords that could stir trouble.

"Your highness?" called a — certainly brave — voice. The queen frowned as she lifted her gaze from her papers. Could she not have a day to herself? Her eyes glared at the door with the most disdain they could possibly ever portray. May the Lord be with you, she thought, restraining from murderous intentions.

Even though a minute had passed, she did not reply. The unfortunate soul knocked once more, certainly hitting the curb. Riona lifted her bare feet from her desk. She had not dressed properly that day and was in a simple comfortable gown. She straightened and leaned her head to the side as she opened the door, challenging the person who provoked her silence.

Caspian. Of course she should have expected the bloke to visit after their tea. Her eyes looked him up and down with the most annoyance. "Can I assist with something perhaps?" she asked blandly.

"Oh... you're still in your nightgown?"

Livid. Any other sane person would have advised the man to walk away but unfortunately, Riona was relishing in this much needed opportunity to relieve her vexation. She gritted her teeth in a tight smile that did not reach her eyes.

"And you're not in your funeral wear? How terribly inappropriate, don't you think?" she mused dangerously. Her hand slipped from the door handle and she pushed it farther open. Her eyes pierced at his — now regretful — gaze. The lady folded her arms and took a step forward. Her eyes grazing his choice of wardrobe. "I will hand you the chance to change your attire. It will certainly make it more helpful for the undertaker."

Caspian frowned. "I am not anywhere near my death."

Her observation flicked back to his. Was that a threat? No, relax, she said to herself. "Not anywhere near? Well, now it is clear what I can assist with."

The man had no chance for now he was slammed against the floor. Her bare foot pressed to his throat. He flinched in pain. The queen smiled. "Oh look. You're already laying. Just not in your grave," she mocked, "My my, how out of place you are, Lord Caspian. Maybe you should look at yourself before you comment on others. It will definitely serve you good."

He stared at her with wide eyes. "I'll be s-sure to do so, your Highness," he muttered. A gulp followed and Riona removed her foot with grace. "Now if you don't mind, I have better things to occupy myself with," she stated, turning and strolling back to her den. As if nothing had happened, she casually closed her door and left the Lord on the floor, completely abandoning the thought of friendship.

Caspian sat up, his focus never leaving the door. His jumbled mind still processing what had just happened. A hand moved to his neck to rub the ache. His back was in pain, thankfully his head didn't hit the tiles. She had caught him off guard and swiped his feet from under him. "What an odd woman, right?" chuckled a deep voice from behind him. Caspian craned his neck to see the person.

"You're not mocking me?" queries Caspian, openly taken aback. Vally shrugged and offered a helpful hand. Caspian took it and was hauled up. Once on his feet stood steadily he dusted himself off and peeked towards Vally, curiously prompting, "Why?"

"I've seen many humbled by her majesty. It is no surprise because it was bound to happen," explained Vally.

"Your name is Vally, correct? What name is that for a Lord?"

"It's Valleric. I just prefer my nickname. It sounds more... sweet."

"Sweet?" laughs Caspian.

"Why yes, more soft and short — easier to call out."

"Well then," chuckled Caspian, "You are clearly something else. Have you been humbled by the queen?"

Vally bursted out with a laugh as if it were the most obvious thing. "Multiple times! I just can't get enough, to be quite frank with you."

Suddenly, the study door swung open. "Was that not enough of a warning? Or should I... You. Of course."

Both men glanced at her apologetically. "Terribly sorry," apologized Vally, sending the largest of grins in her direction. Caspian looked at him then back towards the queen, uttering a quick, "Terribly."

She rolled her eyes at both men and both men simply stared back; one nervous and the other thrilled. Vally bowed his head teasingly as he divulged flirtatiously, "You look absolutely extraordinary today. You should wear this outfit more often."

Caspian gasped, elbowing Vally hard in the ribs. Though the audacious Lord simply smiled at her royal highness with the most admiration. Caspian gritted with a whisper, "May your grave still stay empty."

Caspian looked back towards the queen, only to find her mouth left open. Though she was swift to recollect herself and better her posture. "W-why that is unquestionably the oddest thing I've come to hear this early."

"Just say the words and you can hear it every morning." Winked Vally, earning an "Ugh" in return.

As expected she vanished from the conversation again.

Vally sighed and swiped a hand through his hanging hair, exposing his face fully for Caspian to inspect. Caspian leaned his head to the side, asking curiously, "What happened to your eye?"

Vally glanced back stiffly before he relaxed his frame and waved it off. "An accident, nothing serious."

"The scar says otherwise."

"Scars are quite mysterious possessions. They remind you of your mistakes. This one I'd rather not be reminded of."

Caspian looked him straight in the eye before dropping the subject, yet he was suspicious of this Lord. Lord Vally wasn't known amongst the others. A clear sign he wasn't necessarily of this kingdom because Caspian knew more than he would let on. Every face that fit to a reputation and Vally had no reputation that was openly known.

Caspian nodded and turned. "I'll be seeing you around," he said over his shoulder with a wave, "Steer clear of Riona."

Vally's lips pulled into a smirk as he watched the lord leave and turn towards the next hallway. He was left standing alone. His arms folded as he mused to himself, "Never." And like a shadow he disappeared in the shadows of the hallway.

Back in the study, Riona sat with her face in her palms. Frustration was prickling her nerves and frankly, of all the thousands of nerves she had, Vally managed to irk ever single one of them. Was it even annoyance? Or was it perhaps the fact that she was actually catching herself hoping to see him?

Either way, she groaned loudly, knotting fists in her already untidy hair. She stayed like that for a moment, contemplating what to do.

As if the day wasn't already eventful enough, another soft knock diverted her attention towards the door. "Enter," she hollered tiredly. At least this time it was no lord that had decided to bother her. Thank goodness. She sighed and leaned on her elbows. "With what can I help, Ulric?"

The old butler smiled warmly as he held out a letter. "A message for you. Could I perhaps bring you something? Biscuits?" he offered kindly.

Riona gently took the letter and set it down. A hopeless sigh left her lungs as she ushered him to sit and he did so without hesitation. Immediately Ulric's fatherly senses took action and he instantly prompted her to talk.

Riona sent him a look that was a brew of hurt, bother and to sprinkle it on, frustration. "I am conflicted, Ulric," she started rather hushed, "And I have no plan of action."

Ulric leaned back. The gears in his head turning; yet, he easily asked, "Is a plan of action always needed? Can you not simply sit back for once to see where the flow takes you?"

A wise man truly. A man of knowledge and plenty of unsaid stories. Riona knew, therefore listened for once. A sign of her desperate plea for help; that was clear enough. The butler bowed his head as he dismissed himself. Satisfied that he could be of service to her majesty on a more personal level.

The lady returned a tilt of her head, though her mind still wandered to her growing conflict: Vally.

The man seemed to have crept into her mind without permission nor warning. He had definitely snatched her attention and she allows him with his mysterious ways. Oh what an ache a mind truly is, she thought, her fingers pressing at her temples.

As per usual, she turned towards the outside view for comfort. The gardens were beautiful as expected. No matter what season, the royal gardener never came to ever disappoint the queen. He made sure to always complement the castle with a dash of colour.

Beyond the garden towards the gates, something had caught her attention. A darkly dressed individual wandering the grounds. The lady squinted her eyes. "Great," she sighs, "There he is again. That man is everywhere! Ugh... I have work." With that she tears her eyes from him only to return to her stack of papers and the letter.

Vally was heading towards the stables, careful not to be seen (so he thought). The gates opened and he turned towards the paddocks and barns. There, he trudged quietly. (Why you may ask? Well, let us say that he had a hunch that a certain someone wasn't very honest from the start.)

He walked innocently even though he was there with purpose. His ears perked at low voices from the grooming area. A devilish glint in his eyes and a slight victorious smirk had taken over his calm expression. He had found them.

"You sure no'ne will suspect me?"

"Of course I am."

"Just askin', I wouldn't fancy a hangin'."

"Pull yourself together. A fish with its mouth shut won't get caught."

"Well then, just keep me hands clean and yurs. That poison is very rare, I tell you that. Only men such as me-self know where to ask."

Vally's brows knitted together. Poison? His blood was rushing through his veins and his heart hammering against his ribs. Poison was never easy to work with and proved to be difficult to trace. One never knew where it could be used or for whom it would be used for.

"No need to fret, Dan, you know me. I will not cause you any trouble, but here is your payment. I won't be seeing you again to keep you irrelevant."

"Oh thank you, me Lord."

The ground crunched under the wrongdoers feet as they broke their meet up. Vally had to vacate the area right away. Being caught had certainly taught him valuable lessons in the past and that past was not one to be repeated.

He sped towards a distant barn. Just in time he swiveled around the shelter when the one crook left the area. Vally peeked with a careful eye around the barn door. A hard look replaced his already disgruntled one. He was right to have kept an eye out and trust his gut feeling.

Once the person had disappeared from sight, Vally turned to inspect and reveal the other one's identity. No one will come to harm on his watch. He straightened up and calmly strolled past the stalls. Calmly petting an occasional muzzle which was friendly enough to welcome his hand. His gaze traveled with false serenity.

At last, there brushing a noble grey steed stood a tall imposing groomer. Call him giant if you must, for he was much too large to blend in with any ordinary crowd. His hair dark and his face covered with a beard much like one that fishermen and blacksmiths find to their trend. Vally traveled towards him with a fake grin, "My, what a handsome devil this one is. Must take a dedicated groomer to keep him this neat. It must certainly take quite a while, I should know, because my hair needs effort to look this good."

The groomer's focus flicked towards Vally, who was short in comparison to his gargantuan frame. "Blowing ye own horn, ey?" denoted the groomer with a low voice, void of any amusement.

"Always," laughed Vally, casually leaning an arm on the post. "I won't keep it a secret."

The groomer visibly grew uncomfortable. His attention back to brushing the coat of the horse spotless. Vally cocked his head, not accepting the clear disregard, "Your name?"

"Dan, Dan Bert," he quickly replied, "With what can I offer my assistance? The stable boys would gladly saddle up a—"

"I'm not here to go for a ride, Dan."

Vally pushed himself from the post, dropping the facade, and proceeded towards the guilty groomer, who reluctantly took a step back. "To be honest, I hold the reins when it comes to a certain someone's safety and I find that a threat had come to my attention," he started, his eyes lowering in warning, "And threats don't do well in this kingdom."

Dan frowned. "What could ye possible be on about? Her majesty would have a criminal's head."

"She doesn't have yours yet, now does she? I tell you what, you leave quietly and I won't slit your throat. Nothing personally directed but do heed my words. I don't play nicely with racketeers."

Dan eyed the man with suspicion. "Who are you to threaten me?"

"A humbled protector of the queen."