2A

Jacinta decided to follow Gunnar’s train of thought Begins

Jacinta shook her head, unable to hold Teague’s amused look for very long. It seemed impossible that someone so close, someone she knew would do this. Her father was not perfect but he was not a tyrant.

“Gunnar is right. You don’t know these people Teague, not like we do.” She paused as she noticed Gunnar’s mouth flick into a momentary smirk. Only for a moment did he allow himself the satisfaction.

“This is very true.” Teague conceded. “But, I will find out about them. With your permission.”

“Please.” Jacinta made a dismissive gesture towards the door. “If you find anything you must come and tell us.”

“Oh. Us.” Teague’s interest returned, his voice rising momentarily as he continued. “I didn’t realise there was an us present.”

Jacinta wasn’t entirely sure what Teague was implying but Gunnar’s cheeks flushed and he took a step away from Jacinta. A more respectable distance than before. This seemed odd to her, and though she wouldn’t admit it, it stung to see him create space between them so readily.

“He is my guard. He is always present.”

“A guard.” Teague’s tone became richer, fed by Gunnar’s flustered expression, “Of course.”

“Yes, a guard.” Jacinta replied with increasing annoyance. Gunnar’s behaviour was beginning to concern her. What exactly was Teague doing to him to make him so uncomfortable? “You must know what a guard is, correct? They have those where you come from?”

Jacinta’s tone was more biting than before, and Teague blinked as he looked at her. Momentarily taken aback, one hand to his chest.

“Of course. Forgive me but in my understanding guards are normally seen and not heard. A silent, comforting presence. Gunnar behaves much more like a…companion in my eye.” Teague’s words seemed odd and carefully placed, a gentle hand pressing game pieces onto a board that only he could see.

Jacinta considered what it would mean to press Teague for more, but she recalled the words in her grandmother’s journal. Everything important was always an exchange, an agreement. She had little to offer him at the moment. Instead she sat by the window, noting Gunnar’s stiff demeanour. Strange.

Teague’s room was made ready in the same southern wing of the palace as the rest of the living quarters. He went to bed for the evening with a polite bow, leaving Jacinta and Gunnar to their own devices.

It had hardly been two days since her father’s death. The strain of it was beginning to pull at the edges of her mind. Things were not going to be the same ever again. She considered this, and tried to engage Gunnar in conversation, get his opinions on Teague, but only received non-committal grunts in response.

When she pressed him, trying to pin him with a firm gaze he simply did his best impression of a wall. He stared between her furrowed brows and excused himself.

“Good evening, your highness.”

And he was gone. Jacinta stared at his retreating back and then the closed door. He had been told over a year ago to not use her formal title. It was so tiresome to hear it so often, it had lost all meaning. The uncertainty of it all tugged at her mind until she couldn’t concentrate on it any longer. Bed welcomed her like an old friend, and she fell into its embrace half dressed and fully weary.

Morning was a rather subdued affair, with no one waking her as she had requested she rose when she was able. She found food waiting for her, which she considered a kindness. If she could avoid the breakfast table she would.

Having to sit there while the silent, accusatory stares bored into her would be close to torture. As she finished dressing herself she thought about where those accusations had come from. Staff had said they had seen her leaving her father’s rooms in a hurry the night he died, but she was certain she hadn’t seen him at all since dinner that evening.

Jacinta folded her arms in the heavy air of her room, trying to occupy it as she normally would. It had always felt like her space, but now she could see how without support, she could be easily forced out. Her mind immediately jumped to Gunnar. He had only been in her employ a few years but he’d made his loyalty very clear. He would help her get to the bottom of this.

Add to that Teague’s strange cunning and Jacinta smiled to herself. She had a means to break these lies now, and she intended to with all the swiftness she could manage.

Still, she didn’t want to meet Teague alone as that might cause more rumours to fly about. She fetched Gunnar from his post outside in the halls, where he bowed awkwardly and said nothing.

Teague answered the door to his rooms with a quick smile and invited them inside.

“The night was terribly dull.” Teague informed her as she took a quick glance about the room to assure that he was being treated well. Nothing was out of place and the fire had been made. Good.

“Dull? What were you expecting?” Jacinta said with a slightly cocked brow.

“Well, I’m not really sure. But something at least. But everyone just slept and dreamt away until the sun rose.”

Jacinta pressed her lips together for a moment. She hoped that didn’t mean that Teague had been wandering about the palace at night staring at people while they slept.

“You…don’t enjoy sleeping?” She ventured.

“It is fine. Dreaming is pleasant. I just expected a palace to be more of a hive of activity.”

Jacinta and Gunnar shared a brief look, a one shouldered shrug before she replied.

“Hm. We are in mourning, I’m afraid. Not much will be happening here.”

“Oh!” Teague laughed and clapped his hands together, making the sleeves of his fine shirt wave away from him. A flurry of movement that seemed unnatural for clothing to Jacinta. “Of course! Mourning! What is expected of us then?”

“To wear black.” She gestured to herself and to Gunnar who had slipped on a black band of cloth over his upper arm. “To be modest. To…remember the one who has passed.”

“Ah, well I only ever knew the man as a child, so I will skip that part.”

Another ripple moved over Teague, like a stone had been carelessly thrown into a pond to disturb the mirror like surface. His clothing of deep green shifted into a much more muted, dark hue. Jacinta pressed a hand to her eyes. There was too much to Teague.

“Th…that is good of you.” Jacinta caught herself, giving Teague a brief and polite smile as he smoothed down the chest of his shirt. He preened for a moment, teasing away an imagined mote of dust and spreading his arms wide.

The cut of his clothing seemed to fit him effortlessly, like a second skin. It accentuated the elegant lines of his neck, making his arms seem more slender and the curve of his wrist more delicate. He was a strange bird.

Gunnar blinked for a moment, rubbed at his eyes as Jacinta had and carried on as if nothing had occurred.

“I will speak with all I find.” Teague promised, and Jacinta watched the curve of his smile with some suspicion.

“Please, leave my family to us.” She insisted.

“Well…alright.” Teague’s tone was generous, tinged with warm curiosity. “But you must tell me all you find. These suspicions are understandable, blood culls blood after all, but you do not seem like one who would cut down someone who could still be of use.”

Jacinta felt a tremor of indignant anger pull her muscles tense. But what hurt all the more was Gunnar’s silence. All this time until now he had defended her when someone had spoken out of turn, cut people off or glared with disdain. For now Gunnar was stony and silent.

That faint unease from before bubbled up again and she did her best not to scowl.

“You are correct I would not spend the time on such things.” Jacinta sighed, feigning a wan smile. Her lips pulled tight from the momentary effort.

“Well then, go and find who would slander you!” Teague gestured to the door, then led the way with a brisk step. “Come! Come, we have much to do.”

Teague happily escorted them through the palace for a time. The usual hum of activity filtering through the halls was dulled, though the scents of life nearby were still present. Ever boiling kettles for tea to lubricate the staff, the happy clacking of heels solid against the floor and the murmur of words in the air.

Jacinta wandered for a while, letting her feet take her to the front hall, then the outer courtyard. Life certainly continued for those whose work kept the palace in order, mourning was silent and busy for them. She turned to ask Teague where he would go first but couldn’t catch sight of him. He had already gone.

Gunnar’s shoulders sagged for a moment as he realised the same thing as Jacinta. He adjusted the black band on his upper arm and cleared his throat.

“Shall we start on the grounds then, your highness?” He spoke without looking directly at Jacinta, eyes roaming the yard for observers.

“Yes. Lead on, guard.” Jacinta bit out the last word, but followed as Gunnar walked ahead.

The day was bright and brisk. Jacinta took in the scent of spring air, fresh cut leaves and new life being woken from the ground with a deep sigh. But her eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from Gunnar’s back ahead of her.

He had explained to her once that he had spent practically his whole life on his feet. There were walks for different purposes, to look like you knew what you were doing, to spend hours on patrol while your mind was elsewhere, to proceed. Where there had been the easy confidence in his stride before, now there was a sharp note of tension in his step.

She could see the dig of his heel, the weight held back in case he needed to stop swiftly. To turn. To attend to her. In her mind she knew it could be because he feared for her safety, but it still stung. This attentiveness, no matter how diligent felt like a distance.

A few steps ahead of her and yet so far.

The gardens were too well tread to really spy any obvious tracks or markings of intruders. Groundskeepers heavy steps laden with tools and tasks criss crossed over the lawn and the loam.

“We should head over to the outer walls, your highness.” Gunnar paused to inform Jacinta, gesturing along gravel paths and awaiting her approval. All he received was a stony glare which had him ducking his head to avoid it.

“The moat is being drained, perhaps there will be something there?” his tone was hopeful, even if his eyes avoided meeting hers.

“Perhaps.”

For a moment she considered stamping on his feet as she passed him, then recalled that she’d bought him new boots not a month ago. That would probably do her more harm than his toes. Instead she raised her head, trying to lift her spirits along with it and walked the pathways out past high stone walls.

The scent of damp earth permeated the outer walls. The pungent air was tinged with rot and disuse. This had been years coming, Jacinta considered as she took a look over the bank.

The earthen sides of the drained moat were still slick, thin and hopeful vegetation sticking their roots through the sides here and there. Some impressive outcroppings of tree roots supping from the moat’s waters reached their pale fingers out into the air.

They walked in silence at first, until coming to the familiar windows of their quarters. Jacinta tilted her head upwards to look on where her father’s rooms had been. Still were, but unlit and the curtains drawn.

“He was found in there wasn’t he?” Jacinta tried not to let the thin strain in her voice overtake her.

“Yes, your highness.”

Jacinta couldn’t help the small snort of disdain that escaped her. She watched Gunnar’s expression shift, his brows raising until he turned away from the outer walls, shoulders sagging.

“I don’t think anyone could climb these walls unseen.” She forged ahead, shouldering through the awkward tension in the air. Gunnar nodded and gestured between the wall and the great muddy maw that the moat had left.

“Especially with this in the way. It would take some effort.” He scratched at the back of his neck, frowning.

“There was no mud found in his rooms?”

“No, your highness.”

A terse sigh.

“No footprints of any kind? Damp or dust from climbing?”

“No, your highness.”

There was no response to that other than Jacinta’s hard stare and the faint squeak of her teeth pressing together.

The dull gnawing of annoyance had grown into an ache in her chest. With each insistence of using her title it grew until it was almost painful. She took a few steps away from him towards the bank of the moat, glaring at nothing while her mind tried to pry apart this discomfort.

“Gunnar!” She spoke sharply, and she could almost feel him flinch. He moved to stand beside her, peering into the muck thinking perhaps she’d seen something.

“I have had enough.” She began, “I know you can be forgetful at times but this is ridiculous. I would have thought that after two years you would remember my n-”

“Your highness! Look!”

The interruption stopped her mid sentence but it couldn’t dam her frustration. She swat him on the arm, an action that barely moved his body but his expression strained.

“You must listen to me!” She meant her voice to be stern but she was thinking it was beginning to sound shrill.

“I am but look!” Gunnar held onto her wrist and gestured down the sloping sides of the moat. Some piece of heavy cloth was clinging to an outcropping of sturdy roots. Relatively dry and only somewhat stained by the mud.

Together they both came to the same conclusion with a swift, knowing look to one another. This cloth had not been submerged in the moat, it had been discarded very recently.

It was obviously out of arm’s reach. Jacinta took a few timid steps closer to the slick bank and felt the earth beneath her bend. She decided it wasn’t too far, not if she had help. Not if she would let her knees become muddy.

“Take my hand and help me then.” She extended her hand out to Gunnar who hesitated. That temporary stiffness in his shoulders was like a slap in the face. Jacinta glared at him and snatched at his wrist.

“Like this then!” She had no time for whatever was upsetting him at that moment. Taking as much care as her curiosity allowed, she extended herself over the bank.

Gunnar quickly understood his part, leaning back and sticking his heels into the earth. That initial tension in his shoulders relaxed, his head tilting to watch Jacinta’s reach down towards that curious prize.

When her fingertips could only brush the edges of the thing, she hesitated. The roots holding onto it wavered under the weight of the fabric and began to shift. The subtle change in balance was making the thing slide away further out of her grasp and in a panic she lunged for it.

She yelled in triumph as her fist bunched in the fabric, only for Gunnar to respond in chorus as they both shifted down the lip of the moat. The descent was almost comically slow at first, the both of them grabbing at the unhelpful earth beneath them, offering nothing more than stained hands and damp clothes.

Gunnar tried to retain what little dignity he had left, attempting to pull Jacinta at least back up to the grass. Whatever his intention had been, it ended with Jacinta losing her footing and cursing loudly as she tried to keep her grip on the fabric.

“Jacinta!” Gunnar admonished her. Despite the situation, despite the tension in her stomach like a knot, she laughed. She supposed it must have sounded slightly mad as Gunnar just flustered and tried to somehow pull her and not touch her at the same time.

The mud offered no more purchase. It was tired of being gouged and floundered in and released them to the bottom of the moat. It was swift and unpleasant, splattering weeds and muck over both of them.

Jacinta lay where she had landed, half over Gunnar’s chest with one arm outstretched to keep the fabric from getting too dirty. Jacinta looked down at Gunnar and pursed her lips together to try and stop herself from laughing at him. She can’t have looked much better.

“What would father say if he could see us now?” She laughed again.

“Probably not what we just said on our way down here.” His voice was flat with defeat and he just watched as Jacinta burst into high, keening laughter again. Gunnar gently pat her on the back, adding more stains to her jacket.

It took her a few moments to get a hold of herself. The absurdity of it all drawing out strange feelings of restlessness that ebbed away as she felt Gunnar’s hand resting on her back. It was almost an embrace.

With that sharp realisation cutting through the shock of the fall she gingerly pulled herself up onto her feet. Looking down at herself then at Gunnar she made a feeble attempt to make herself look somewhat more presentable.

“This is absurd.” She sighed. Gunnar was already trying to judge the height of the moat, mind working away to solve another problem. Something he could do that seemed less intimidating that comforting Jacinta.

“There’s probably a slope up somewhere. A ladder near the bridge. Something.” He held out his hand towards Jacinta who took it without hesitation.

They trekked with stilted, sliding steps along the sodden path left by the moat. The damp smell now clung to them and their clothes. Jacinta was just glad that she wasn’t alone in this shameful display of foolishness.

The ladder near the back entrance to the gardens was propped up against the slick side of the moat. It seemed sturdy enough. Gunnar gave it another good shove into the ground before ushering Jacinta up ahead of him.

Back on the grass, hidden from view by the back garden wall, Jacinta felt the water seeping through her clothes. It stuck and clung in odd places, the fabric feeling ill fitting and awkward. Gunnar’s own shirt was sodden, sticking thoroughly to his skin beneath his dark leathers. He tugged at it and winced at the unpleasant sucking noise his boots made.

“I can’t let anyone see us like this.” Jacinta gestured down to herself. Knowing that the staff that had accused her were already looking for any other excuses to pile more unpleasantness onto her.

“There’s a wash house not far from here.” Gunnar offered, nodding aside to the wall. “We can get the worst of it off there at least. It’s mostly for washing the linens though. No fine baths.”

“I will survive.”

Gunnar smiled despite the circumstances. It seemed more true than ever that she would survive this. Another blow to her pride, one that he was keenly aware was already shaken. He could see the grip on the cloth she’d found was still tight.

The normally bright, keen shine to her dark eyes seemed more wary than usual. He couldn’t blame her, but he knew better than to try and comfort her. That pride was like an iron rod, it kept her upright. There was no bending, not to accusations, not to mud.

The wash house was thankfully far enough away from the palace that they weren’t noticed going inside. A wave of hot air and floral smells hit them as they entered. The wide, shining copper baths were mostly empty save for the last, tucked against the wall, harbouring fat coals beneath it like a broody hen.

Most of the bedding and clothing had already been hung out to dry, but some of the more delicate pieces were hung on the laundry pulley above their heads.

“Could you get the pulley down? Then I can have some semblance of modesty.” Jacinta made her way to the copper bath and began peeling off her boots.

“What? Oh…” Gunnar untied the knot on the cleat hook mounted on the wall, lowering it closer to the ground. It wasn’t exactly clear to him what she was asking of him until he saw her unfastening her jacket and then her belt. Hurriedly he moved the sheets lower to block his view of her and tied a quick knot to keep it steady.

He turned his back to her for good measure.

“Done. I will keep an eye on the door.”

“Well don’t go far. What if someone tried to come in? The scandal…can you imagine?” Jacinta was smirking to herself as she found one of the wash brushes nearby and started to make an attempt at her boots. She hoped the playful tone of her voice would put him at ease but it only seemed to upset him.

“That is not a laughing matter!” He insisted, almost turning to give her a firm look then catching himself.