Chapter 5

  Air Chèum Mì cheart – Off the Path

  April 25th, 66 F.A (Sienna, Gondor)

  The maid ducked just in time to avoid the cup I had thrown at her.

  “Get out of my sight! All of you, leave! I want to be alone!”

  The moment the door closed, I pressed my face into one of the soft pillows and screamed out my rage. I didn’t care whether the servants heard me or not. I had endured their foolish chatter long enough. My cousin’s coronation had been two weeks ago, and apparently the entire palace had no other topic to discuss.

  For that, I hated her.

  All of them.

  I hated those stupid maids, the guards, and my family.

  Especially my family.

  Over a month ago, the invitation to the coronation of Rohan’s new queen had arrived. From that day on, every stone in Minas Tirith had been polished as if it were a matter of life and death. Ridiculous.

  The entourage my mother had taken to Edoras had been magnificent, a display of Gondor’s strength. I should have gone with her. I should have stood beside her and shown those farmers how powerful Gondor truly was.

  What was she, anyway?

  Celebrian.

  A girl from Arnor, barely older than I was, who didn’t even speak the language of the Rohirrim. And now she sat on a throne that did not belong to her.

  Her father Elfwine had been King of Rohan, a man who had always kept his word. Well, he had made mistakes too. Grave ones. The young princess from Arnor had turned his head so thoroughly during a visit that he had taken her as his wife.

  The scandal wasn’t her rank — Arnor called itself a kingdom, but everyone in Minas Tirith knew it was merely a self?governed province of Gondor.

  No, the scandal was that through this marriage Arnor had been officially acknowledged as equal.

  And now, barely after Elfwine’s death, his only surviving child ascended the throne of Rohan.

  A girl from the farthest corner of the North.

  A girl my mother called “niece.”

  A girl I despised.

  As suddenly as the furious rage had come over me, it faded again, replaced by a plan forming in my mind without my permission. My mother wouldn’t return from Rohan for another two weeks. This unusual emptiness in the palace could be used in several ways.

  And I had nothing to lose, as long as my servants kept quiet.

  Of course they would. No one wanted to risk being dismissed.

  The first part of my plan was simple. I needed a different dress if I wanted to get out of here.

  I rang the little bell on my desk. Not ten seconds later my first maid entered and curtsied a bit awkwardly.

  “At your service, Your Highness.”

  “Rebekkah, you must help me. I need a simple dress for tonight.”

  The girl’s gaze drifted to my lavish wardrobe, then back to me.

  “Do you have something specific in mind? The dark blue gown is the quickest to lace.”

  I waved impatiently.

  “No. That’s useless to me. You have your day off tomorrow, don’t you?”

  “That’s right, my lady. Do you need me tomorrow?”

  “No. I need you now. Do you have any dress other than your maid’s uniform?”

  “Yes. We’re not allowed to wear our work clothes when we’re off duty.”

  “Good. Then fetch your dress and bring it to me.”

  Rebekkah frowned in confusion, but composed herself and disappeared after a quick curtsy.

  An hour later I followed her through the dark alleys of Minas Tirith, my hood pulled deep over my face. The clothing exchange had taken longer than expected. Rebekkah was shorter and broader than I was, and it had been a challenge to make the pale green dress sit even remotely securely over my corset.

  She now wore her maid’s uniform — though I had ordered her to remove the apron and wear her hair loose. Normally young women in the city covered their hair with a scarf, especially in the evening, but I had persuaded her to leave it off. At first glance she looked like a simple towns-woman. At second glance… it would be noticeable.

  In front of the tavern she grabbed my elbow. I turned, irritated.

  “What is it?”

  “Your Highness… are you sure you want to do this? What if someone recognises you?”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “I may live differently than you, but I am well aware of the memory?dulling effects of beer. Come on.”

  The moment I opened the door, stale air hit me. The room was larger than expected, with space for at least twenty tables. Serving girls hurried from table to table with large mugs, and the men shouted over one another.

  I was so absorbed in observing everything that I flinched when a large hand landed on my shoulder and shoved me aside like a bothersome insect.

  “Useless woman,” the man grumbled and walked on.

  Rebekkah giggled girlishly and pulled me toward an empty table.

  “There must be a performance tonight, otherwise it wouldn’t be this crowded in the middle of the week.”

  I took a deep breath.

  //I will not let this insult show.//

  “Do you come here often?”

  “When my family had a good month, we sometimes ate here. My father was a regular. A hopeless drunk.”

  A serving girl set two mugs of beer on our table. I smelled it before taking a cautious sip. Bitter, but refreshing.

  “And do you expect your father to come here tonight?”

  “No. He passed away a year ago. My brother is head of the family now.”

  I had nothing to say to that.

  The music began — loud and rough. The guests roared. One of the men started the song:

  “Ah come, you beauty, bring the wine to me,

  Bring the wine to me, I’m dying of thirst,

  Ah come, you beauty, bring the wine to me,

  For I long for wine and woman!”

  //A drinking song. Why does that not surprise me?//

  A woman turned toward him and joined in:

  “I’ll pour for you only if you dance with me,

  If you dance with me, then I’ll come to you,

  I’ll pour for you only if you dance with me,

  Then you’ll have your wine and woman!”

  The men cheered wildly, even Rebekkah grinned. The singer seemed pleased with the mood and grabbed a mug of beer the indignant serving girl had clearly intended for someone else. After a hearty gulp he continued. Most of the men were now so drunk they could barely stand. So I simply hooked my arm through my maid’s and danced with her.

  “Oh come, you beauty, climb onto the table,

  Onto the table, come dance on it with me,

  Oh come, you beauty, climb onto the table,

  For everyone should see us!”

  His partner played with her long skirt and let herself fall theatrically onto the nearest chair.

  “I’ll climb up for a kiss from you,

  A kiss from you, yes that’s what I want,

  I’ll climb up for a kiss from you,

  If I’m to stand up there with you!”

  “The sin is sweet

  And the flesh is weak

  So it has always been!

  The night is young

  And the devil laughs

  Come, let’s pour ourselves another!”

  I danced.

  I laughed.

  For a moment, I forgot who I was.

  But the moment didn’t last. When the music stopped, Rebekkah hurried to our table to fetch our cloaks. I followed more slowly, the floor swaying beneath my feet. The men shouted, one swung a beer mug. I ducked just in time.

  “Watch out!” The warning came at the same moment a heavy bench crashed down in front of my feet. I stumbled, flailed for balance — and someone grabbed my arm.

  A strong hand, warm and unfamiliar.

  “You should be more careful,” a deep voice said. I looked up into a face I had never seen before.

  The strong hand held me firmly, but not roughly. I blinked, the room swaying, and only after a moment did I recognise the outline of a man in dark armour. A soldier of Gondor.

  He studied me briefly, then his gaze slid past me to Rebekkah. “Rebekkah? What are you doing here? And… dressed like that?” My maid froze. I felt her go pale even before I saw her face.

  “Captain Arthon…,” she stammered. “I… I’m just accompanying my cousin. She’s new in the city.”

  I glared at her. Cousin? But the soldier seemed satisfied with the explanation. He turned back to me.

  “You stumbled. Are you all right?”

  I nodded, though my head was pounding. “Yes… thank you.” My voice sounded strangely thin.

  He examined me again, this time more closely. I held my breath. But apparently he didn’t recognise me. The dress, the hood, the noise, the alcohol — all of it worked in my favour.

  “You should be careful,” he said. “It’s late, and the men have had too much to drink.”

  “I can see that,” I muttered.

  He didn’t react, but his eyes flicked briefly to Rebekkah — a silent reprimand.

  “I’ll escort you both back to the palace,” he said.

  “That’s not necessary,” I snapped.

  “It is,” he replied calmly. “It’s my duty. And I won’t allow a palace servant and her… cousin… to walk around this district alone.”

  Rebekkah nodded quickly. “That would be… very kind, Captain.”

  I wanted to scream at her, but kept quiet.

  Outside, the air was cool and clear. I pulled the hood deeper over my face while Arthon led us through the alleys. Rebekkah walked close beside me, her hands nervously clasped.

  “My lady…,” she whispered. “Please don’t say anything…”

  “Be quiet,” I hissed.

  Arthon was only a few steps ahead, but he didn’t seem to pay attention to us. Or he pretended not to.

  We reached the second gate of the city. Two guards stood there, and I held my breath. But Arthon simply nodded to them.

  “All in order. I’m bringing these two back.”

  The guards let us pass.

  Rebekkah exhaled audibly.

  When we reached the lower courtyard of the palace, Arthon stopped.

  “You shouldn’t come here again,” he said quietly. “It’s dangerous. And… unwise.”

  His gaze rested on Rebekkah, but I knew the words were meant for me.

  “We won’t return,” I said with an innocent expression.

  He nodded, bowed briefly, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Rebekkah and I slipped in through the side entrance used by the servants. The corridor was empty, only a single oil lamp burning. I tore the hood from my head; the dress clung unpleasantly to my skin.

  “Your Highness…,” Rebekkah began timidly.

  I spun around.

  “You betrayed me.”

  “No! I saved you! If he had recognised you—”

  “He would not have recognised me!” I hissed.

  Rebekkah flinched. I saw her eyes glisten.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  I wanted to reply, but didn’t.

  “Go,” I said quietly. “I’ll need you again the day after tomorrow.”

  She curtsied and disappeared.

  I remained alone in the corridor, my heart pounding, my hands trembling. And for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t thinking of Celebrian.

  I was thinking of the soldier who hadn’t recognised me.

  Of the freedom I had felt for a single moment.

  It was still early when a firm, unmistakable knock sounded at my door. A knock one could not ignore.

  “Your Highness? The housekeeper requests entry.”

  I stiffened. She was not someone who came without reason.

  “Enter,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

  The door opened, and the housekeeper stepped inside. She bowed briefly. Her posture was flawless, her eyes sharp and assessing as always.

  “Your Highness,” she began, “I am here regarding an incident that occurred last night.”

  I crossed my arms. “What incident?”

  “A uniform is missing. Your maid Rebekkah’s uniform.”

  My heartbeat quickened, but I forced myself to remain calm.

  “And?”

  “She was seen wearing it outside the palace,” she continued. “And Rebekkah lied when confronted.”

  I lifted my chin. “I ordered her to accompany me.”

  The housekeeper blinked slowly, as if she needed to confirm she had heard correctly.

  “Your Highness… the staff is not permitted to obey commands that violate palace regulations. The maid’s uniform may not be worn off duty. And it may not be lent out.”

  Heat rose to my face.

  “She is not at fault,” I said sharply.

  “Your Highness,” the housekeeper replied evenly, “she should have refused your order. She did not. That is a serious offence.”

  I crossed my arms tighter.

  “I forbid you to dismiss her.”

  The housekeeper inclined her head, but her voice remained firm.

  “As you wish. I will not dismiss her, but she will be demoted. And the king must be informed.”

  My breath caught.

  “The king?”

  “It is my duty, Your Highness.”

  She bowed again, deeper this time, and left the room with the same calm determination with which she had entered.