Coulta's shoulder ached when he moved it too much and his legs felt a bit unsteady when he got out of bed, but he was happy that he had enough strength to finally leave his room and accompany Wildas to the Grand King's morning meeting. Apparently Wildas needed to formally present him to the court, though Coulta was sure all the people he was about to meet already knew who he was after all the time he spent following Wildas around, and certainly the story of how he'd saved the prince recently had circulated quickly. He knew Anil and Myri had already been presented to the court the evening before, but Myri had encouraged Wildas to wait to present Coulta at least until he'd had one more night of rest. Wildas had even kept to his own room that night so Coulta could rest better – they couldn't put off the meeting much longer, or it would make them look questionable in some way only tradition could rationalize. Coulta didn't think he'd be very good in a fight just yet, but he didn't think he would make a fainting fool of himself if he had some moments of rest during the day.
Wildas spent the fairly short walk to the Grand King's office explaining how Coulta was expected to act in front of the court, especially his father, and when they reached the door he gave Coulta's hand a quick squeeze. Coulta gave him a reassuring nod, then followed the prince into the crowded room. As soon as they entered, Rohan closed the door. Coulta immediately felt a prickling of unease in his mind, but put it aside. Best not to consider how many powerful people were looking at him.
"Glad to see you on your feet," Rohan told Coulta quietly.
"Glad to be on them," Coulta whispered with a nod.
As he followed Wildas through the crowded room, Coulta kept his gaze on the prince's back, ignoring the people muttering. Apparently some of these nobles thought he was dreary, frightening, or plain evil. He'd tried not to be so intimidating by wearing a silver shirt over black pants, instead of all black, but he was still wearing his sword belt. He knew people with magic could feel the curse and hoped there weren't many sorcerers in the court.
Stopping before the Grand King, Wildas and Coulta bowed, Coulta bowing more deeply.
Then Wildas turned to the room at large and motioned to Coulta. "I present to you my chosen future husband, Coulta of Arren."
The room was quiet, and Coulta avoided the gaze of everyone. The unease seemed to grow as he felt the eyes of the entire court boring into him.
"I approve," Grand King Deandre stated. "He has shown his worth before he even arrived in Ryal. You may both be seated."
Coulta turned to follow Wildas to their seats near the Grand King's desk, then stopped and looked to the corner of the room. He still felt uncomfortable, and he realized it was from more than his concern about meeting the court. Something wasn't right, though it wasn't anything immediately dangerous.
"Coulta?" Wildas asked.
Coulta could hear muttering in the room, and he could practically feel the Grand King's eyes on him. He also knew that Shelton was watching him from his seat beside Queen Yvona. He searched the corner with his eyes and used a small amount of magic, until he discerned that the source of his discomfort was a table behind the Grand King's desk. It was fairly small and was stacked with books and a single unlit candle, but what caught Coulta's attention was the cloth that draped down from the tabletop to the floor.
"What is it?" Wildas questioned quietly.
"I don't know," he answered. "Don't let them kill me," he added as he stepped toward the table.
"What sort of disrespect is this?" one of the men behind him demanded.
Coulta glanced at Rohan, who was already stepping from his post by the door. He gave Coulta a nod as he started across the room. When Coulta chanced a glance at Deandre, he was relieved to see that the Grand King wasn't as angry as Coulta had expected. Shelton was saying something to him that Coulta couldn't hear.
Rohan shadowed Coulta as he slowly approached the table. The room went quiet, and Coulta hoped that meant the Grand King had signaled for everyone to stop complaining. Bending close to the table, Coulta grabbed a handful of the tablecloth in his left hand and looked up at Rohan. The Prince-General nodded, one hand on the hilt of his sword.
Coulta flipped the hanging cloth up and reached under the table with his right arm. He couldn't see, but he felt his hand close around what felt like a human arm. There was a shriek and the person struggled against him. He had to let go of the cloth to use both hands, but he managed to pull out what he quickly discovered was a young girl in the uniform of the castle servants. Rohan grabbed the sobbing girl from him as sounds of confusion and outrage swept through the room.
Only when Coulta had given the girl over to Rohan did the pain register. He sank to his knees on the rug as searing pain shot from his shoulder all the way to his fingertips and across his chest. He groaned and grabbed his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut against the agony.
Through all the chaos he heard a quiet voice ask, "Your shoulder?"
It was all he could do to nod, and it was likely the curse that made him attempt even that, because he always needed to be honest with Wildas. Someone helped him to his feet and to a chair, where he slumped with a groan, still holding his shoulder.
"We're sending for a healer," Wildas told him.
"Thank you," Coulta whispered painfully.
Wildas turned from him to explain to everyone that his condition was only because of his injury, and the room finally grew quiet, aside from the sobbing girl.
"Explain yourself," was all the Grand King said.
The girl's sobbing doubled. "They'll kill my family!"
"Who? And why?"
"I don't know who they are!" she sobbed. "My parents live in Craywell, and I was told that they would die if I didn't spy!"
"How long have you been spying on our meetings?"
"Six days," she mumbled.
"Rohan, let her sit."
The Prince-General guided the girl to a chair and released her. He remained standing behind her while she cried into her hands.
"I thought you had a spell on this room," Deandre said to Shelton.
"I do, but only to ward against those who aren't supposed to be in here," Shelton explained. "I know she stokes the hearth fires every morning before the meetings, so she has a right to be in here."
"Who told you to spy?" Deandre asked the girl. "Tell me what this person looked like."
"I don't know!" she sobbed. "He showed up one night and asked for me. He said he had a message from my parents. He was short, dressed in dark colors, and had a cloak hood up. I think he even had a mask over his face. I don't know! He made me talk to him outside in the dark!"
"What did he tell you to do?"
"Listen to the meetings and report everything I heard to an older man. I'm supposed to meet him everyday in the market. If I don't come anymore, he'll know I was caught and my parents will die!" She slumped forward, shaking with sobs.
Coulta realized suddenly that he didn't want any harm to come to her. He could sympathize with her easily, and he wished there was something he could do. But he'd already done enough to get the court to dislike him that morning – and his shoulder hurt too much for him to want to do anything.
"Your parents aren't going to die because of this," Shelton said. He stepped over to her chair and waited for her to look up before he continued, "You will continue the same routine you've had for the last six days, but you will not be in this room. Before the meeting ends I will tell you what to pass on to this person you meet with, and you will meet with him as usual."
The girl was so overcome that she slid to her knees on the rug and repeatedly thanked him.
"Come with me," he told her.
Shelton had no sooner led the girl into the adjoining bedchamber than Myri arrived. She didn't speak as she wove her way through the room, but she looked rather annoyed. Wildas supposed she had a right to be.
"What is Shelton doing with the girl?" he heard his second cousin, Princess Astrid, ask. She was a motherly middle-aged woman who had never been able to have children herself, but used her maternal instincts well when it came to managing the slew of castle servants. She was likely the most approachable and kindhearted master any servant could ask for. It was certainly the reason why servants usually stayed on until old age.
"I don't know," Deandre replied, leaning against his desk, "but he's the spymaster and I doubt she will come to any harm."
Myri pulled a chair up next to Coulta and quietly demanded, "What happened now?"
"He found a spy," Wildas explained in a hushed voice, though everyone else had broken off into their own conversations while they waited for Shelton to return. "And dragged her out from under a table."
"I didn't get a choice," Coulta added, giving Myri a pointed look that was twinged with obvious pain.
Myri sighed and nodded. She opened her small healer's pouch and removed a jar of salve. "I'd make you a tea, but we've already gotten close to the limit of what can be taken in a short amount of time before it stops having an effect."
"Thank the gods," Coulta groaned.
Shaking her head, Myri turned to Wildas, who was sitting on Coulta's other side. "Am I treating him here?" she asked quietly.
Wildas heard the inner door to the bedchamber open and looked up to see Shelton step into the office. The Second King turned to look over at Coulta and Wildas caught his eye. He motioned discretely to Coulta and Myri, then looked past the Second King to the door. As he had hoped, Shelton understood, and shook his head just enough to get his point across.
"We have to stay here," Wildas said quietly, leaning closer to Myri.
"Why?"
"Appearances," Wildas grumbled.
Myri nodded and turned back to Coulta. "Unfasten that shirt enough for me to get this on."
Coulta silently obeyed, slowly loosening the ties on his shirt so he could pull it far enough off his shoulder that Myri could put the salve on the healing wound. Wildas looked over and noticed that he no longer wore a bandage. The arrow wound was scabbed over and ringed with pink flesh, though spots of blood showed where the scab had cracked during his struggle with the girl.
His attention was drawn back to the meeting when someone asked what had become of the girl. It sounded like his uncle, Prince-General Ruairi, the commander of the army. He'd happened to hear the same voice grumble that the spy should be killed and done away with immediately.
"She is sitting with Cara, Queen Yvona's lady-in-waiting, and will do so every morning," Shelton answered, sitting down beside Queen Yvona. "I will give her false information to whomever she is reporting to. She will report back to me whenever that person tells her anything."
"And Cara will not tell her anything that she might pass on to our enemy?" Ruairi questioned.
"Of course not," Shelton replied, turning to look the man in the eye. "None of you shall speak of this incident again once the meeting ends. If the wrong person overhears, her family will die, and she will likely be killed as well. Then we will have a new spy to uncover and deal with."
"It's a good thing we now have an able spy-catcher in our midst," Prince-General Pavle of the navy said with a smile on his sun-tanned face.
"How did he know the girl was there?" Wildas's sister, Princess Sari, demanded. She was learning how to lead the army under Prince-General Ruairi, and had quickly become as sharp and commanding as her uncle. There was no mercy given to enemies in the army.
"I told you he's a sorcerer," Wildas reminded her.
"But why did he immediately search for a spy in a secure room?"
"Wildas took me on as his protector," Coulta explained, though he sounded vaguely annoyed. "I'm used to using my magic to sense danger around him. It's become a habit."
"And I certainly hope it's a habit he never gives up," Deandre declared, gazing directly at his daughter. "He has saved the life of Wildas at least twice now, proof of which can be seen in his still-healing wounds. He has also saved my own life, and for that I am just as grateful. All of our lives may rest on the smallest and most untrained spy or archer. I trust you will remember that."
Wildas was glad to see that Sari looked slightly ashamed as she bowed her head. "Forgive me, Father."
"I don't believe the apology should be given to me, daughter."
Sari looked to where Wildas sat with Myri and Coulta. Myri was wiping the salve from her hand with the hem of her healer's apron.
"Forgive me, future brother Coulta." To Wildas's surprise, she sounded honest.
Coulta nodded. "Accepted."
Myri put the lid back on the jar of salve and placed it back into her pouch. "I don't think it will bleed much more, but I can bandage it for now, if you'd like."
"I'll be fine," Coulta assured her, pulling his shirt back over his shoulder and doing up the laces. "The pain is mostly gone. Thank you."
Myri nodded. "Don't do more damage to it, if you can avoid it."
"I won't," he assured her.
Myri glanced at Wildas. "Do I just leave?" she whispered.
"Acknowledge my parents first," Wildas instructed quietly. "Stand and wait for my father to notice, then ask if he needs anything else." He gently took her hand and raised it to his lips. "Thank you."
Myri blushed slightly. "You're welcome."
Coulta squeezed her other hand and thanked her again, then she stood. The conversation that had begun as soon as Sari had apologized to Coulta grew quiet. Deandre looked at her and she curtsied deeply. "I have finished tending Coulta. Is there anything else I may be needed for?"
Deandre shook his head. "You may go."
Myri curtsied again quickly, then bowed her head to Shelton and Yvona, who both smiled at her. With that, she made her way to the door, which Rohan opened for her, and left.
"Back to where we left off at the previous meeting, then," Ruairi said, sounding bored. "We need to make sure the sailors know how to fight. Varin will not send his forces by river, and we will need all the soldiers we can get."
"My men already know how to fight," Pavle argued. "Sailors do not simply point cannons at enemy ships and call it battle. We know what close quarters are."
"But do they know what real battle is about?"
"Yes, my brother. We've been over this before."
Wildas leaned close to Coulta and murmured, "You'll realize these meetings are rarely exciting."
Coulta shifted in his chair and gave a slight nod. Wildas hoped, at least, that the rest of the meeting was as boring as usual. It certainly hadn't started that way.
