After My Knight Chose Another Woman

When the storm came, my knight chose another woman. By the time he returned, my little brother was dead. I will never forget his first choice. I was oiling my husband's sword when I found it. A dried white rose petal. Pressed flat into the lining of the leather sheath. The kind Bianca always wore in her hair. He walked in from the training yard then, sweat on his brow, and saw what I was holding. "Court audience yesterday," he said, not missing a beat. "Royal Choir performed afterward. She handed it to me on the steps. I didn't want to be rude." "Mm," I said. "It's fine." I dropped the petal into the hearth and watched it curl into ash. Lorenzo Castellani. My husband. Knight Commander of the Sun Kingdom. Commander of every sword and lance under King Leo's banner. They said the Crown Prince of Tide Kingdom would take a three-day detour just to avoid crossing his path. A man like that had no shortage of women trailing perfume through his audience hall. But only Bianca Conti could make him sit through an entire performance with a petal hidden in his sheath. Later, on the battlefield, I threw myself between him and death. I nearly bled out digging a Tide arrowhead from his chest. By the time the healers arrived, I was the one slipping away. But he was the one who shattered. He knelt at my bedside and swore on his Knight Commander's blade. "I, Lorenzo Castellani, swear by my sword. Outside the duties of the crown, I will never see Bianca Conti alone again." That was five years ago. He saw me turn back to the medicine chest. Watched me sort dried yarrow and willow bark like nothing had happened. Something flickered behind his green eyes. He crossed the room in three strides and caught my wrist. "Sera." His voice was too careful. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked up at him. At the man I had bled for. At the man who had promised me the world on the steps of King Leo's throne room. I twisted my wrist out of his grip. Once, I would have torn his audience hall apart over a single white petal. Not tonight. I picked up the willow bark and went back to work. Lorenzo wasn't letting it go. He stood behind me, voice pitched low. "Sera. It was one petal." I kept sorting. "Bianca's father gave his life for me at Westmark Strait. Marco Conti took five arrows meant for my chest. She is the last of his blood. As Knight Commander, watching over her is my duty." I closed the medicine chest. Set the willow bark on the shelf. Wiped my hands on my apron and went to fetch water from the well. He followed me. "What is this really about? Talk to me." I drew the bucket. Carried it in. Washed my hands at the basin. The herb stains under my nails wouldn't come out. They never came out. He hated my hands. He had told me, once, after too much wine, that Bianca's hands were like fresh-peeled pearls. Mine were too rough. I dried my hands. Reached into the cedar drawer where I kept my work. Pulled out the bound manuscript I'd been writing for three months. A hundred and sixty pages. Coastal herbs. Tide-poison antidotes. Field amputation procedures. Things my old master had taught me with his last breath. Things I'd discovered on my own pulling soldiers back from the brink. Last week, Master Klaus — the man who ran the Royal Academy of Healing — had ridden all the way from the capital to read it. He'd turned the last page in silence. Then he'd told me, eyes wet, that I was his pick. It was the highest training a healer could receive in the Sun Kingdom. The dream of every coastal apothecary. I had been twelve years old when I first heard the name Royal Academy. I had whispered it into my pillow like a prayer. I handed the manuscript to Lorenzo. He flipped through it. Barely looked. He set it on the corner of the table, on top of yesterday's correspondence. "I'll have it forwarded when I have a free morning." I didn't answer. I went to the kitchen to start supper. He didn't speak again until I set the bread down. Then, very lightly: "There's only one apprentice spot." The ladle paused over the soup. "I know." "Sera, you're already the best healer on this coast. You'll be respected here whether you go to the Academy or not." I looked up. "But Bianca," he said, "is different. Her health is failing. Dancing in the Royal Choir is killing her. The Academy is her only path out." I set the ladle down. "Her father took five arrows for me. I owe him that life until the day I die." A pause. "So I submitted her application alongside yours." The blood drained out of my hands. "Lorenzo. Master Klaus told me, with his own mouth, that the spot was mine." "Nobody promises anything in this life. Best candidate gets it." His voice hardened. "And Bianca's record is stronger than yours. A martyr's daughter. Lead dancer of the Royal Choir. Her file's stronger than yours. Yours started in a fishing village." He saw my face. Tried to soften. "Don't be small about this, Sera. My stipend can keep you in silks for ten lifetimes. If you stay at the village clinic forever, no one will think less of you." "But Bianca can't go back to the Choir. That world will eat her alive. The Academy is her only way out." I didn't say anything. I set down my spoon. I couldn't eat another bite. In bed that night, he huged for me from behind. I pushed him away. He went still. "Now what?" "I'm tired." "Sera Russo." His voice cooled by ten degrees. "You're becoming difficult." He rolled onto his back and faced the wall. I lay in the dark with my eyes open. The wind off the harbor rattled the shutters. Somewhere in the village, a dog was barking. I thought about the first time I'd ever seen his face. A boy of twenty-two, half-dead on a horse blanket, blood foaming at his lips. He'd opened his eyes when I cut the leather of his cuirass. Green eyes. The color of the sea after a storm. He'd looked at me and tried to smile. "Are you," he'd whispered, "the Healer?" A month later, in the audience chamber, on his knees before King Leo, he'd taken my scarred hand in both of his. "This hand," he had said to the entire court, "saved the Knight Commander of the Sun Kingdom. I will spend my life trying to deserve it." I'd believed him. What a fool I'd been. That girl in the white silk gown — nineteen years old, the scar on her finger still pink — she had believed every word. That girl, I realized, had been dying for a long time. Tonight she was finally done.

It was late afternoon when I passed the Choir's practice hall on my way to the apothecary. Bianca was on the steps with a half-dozen other girls. Pale silks. Ribbons in their hair. Voices light as glass. She saw me. I knew she saw me. Her voice rose half an octave. "Oh, Renzo is too honorable. I told him I wasn't strong enough for the Academy. But he insisted. For my father's honor, he said. He even drafted the application himself." A girl beside her giggled. "Bianca. You and the Knight Commander are made for each other. A hero and a beauty. Whereas Lady Castellani—" Bianca lifted her fan to her mouth. "Stop. If Sera hears you, she'll think I'm bullying her again. You know how she is. Fishing village girl. Such a temper." I tightened my grip on the apothecary basket and kept walking. I didn't stop to confront her. There was no point. I went to Lady Cass's. Wife of Duke Bell. The King's oldest friend. The gentlest man in the Sun Kingdom court. Three years ago, the Duke had taken a Tide bolt while inspecting border defenses. I had ridden through the night from Castellammare and pulled the barb out of his thigh by lantern light. He had lived. Lady Cass opened her own door for me. She always did. She'd looked at me like her own daughter from the first day I rode through her gate. "Sera." She read my face. "You and him fighting again?" I followed her inside. I shook my head. "Lady Cass. I need to ask about the Academy." She exhaled, long and slow. "That husband of yours." Her eyes were tired. "Sera, the spot was yours. Master Klaus chose you himself. Renzo went over his head. Submitted Bianca's name alongside. Used the old Knight Commander's name." "Vittorio Castellani has been retired five years. But his old students are scattered across the royal council, the King's Guard, the Academy review board. When the Castellani name asks for a favor — even now — people listen." My stomach dropped. So it wasn't just an application. He fought for it. Against me. For her. That was the moment I knew. I left the Duke's manor as the sun was setting. The sea wind off the harbor was harder than usual. It scraped at my face. I pulled my hood up. I heard the footsteps before I heard the voice. "Sera." I turned. My little brother. Matteo. Fifteen years old. Half a head taller than me. Squire's leathers. A short blade at his hip. A face still soft with boyhood. He came at a run. "Sera, what happened. What did he do." "Nothing, Teo." "Don't lie to me. I saw Lady Cass's groom. I saw your face." I tried to smile. He grabbed my sleeve. "Tell me." I told him. Just the Academy. Just the application. His face went red. Then white. "That lying little—" "Matteo. Don't." "No, Sera, listen to me. You nearly died pulling that arrow out of his chest. You took a barb through your hand for him. Your hand still doesn't close properly. And he—" "Stop." "He forgot. That's what he did. He forgot." His voice cracked. "Eight years and he forgot. And now he's giving your spot to that—" "Teo. We don't say that here." I clamped my hand over his mouth. That was the rule. Lorenzo had told me himself, a month into our marriage. Sera. A Knight Commander does not owe his life to his wife. Anyone who hears that — anyone — will think less of me. So I'd buried it. For eight years. Matteo tore my hand off his mouth. His eyes were wet. "I'm going to make her say it to my face." "Matteo—" He was already running. ...... By the time I caught up, it was too late. Two of the King's Guard had Matteo face-down on the steps of the Choir hall. His cheek was pressed against the stone. There was blood on his lip. Bianca was sobbing into Lorenzo's chest. Her hands were trembling on his cuirass. Tears streamed down her face. "Renzo," she whispered. "I only wanted to explain, her brother — he came up the steps and he — he put his hands on me—" "I never touched her!" Matteo thrashed under their hands. "She's lying through her teeth!" Lorenzo's boot came down on his back. "Quiet." Then again. Harder. "You think the royal court is your tavern, boy?" I shoved through the guards and threw myself between them. "Lorenzo. Stop." He looked up at me. I had seen those green eyes on a battlefield. I had seen them across a dying soldier. I had seen them on our wedding night. I had never seen them like this. His eyes were ice. "Sera. Move." "He put hands on a daughter of the Royal Choir. Two witnesses. He'll be tried in the morning. Move, or you'll be charged as an accomplice." I didn't move. He looked past me. At the Captain of the Guard. "Take him." They dragged Matteo off the steps. His leathers scraped the stone. He was crying — not from the pain, I realized. From the look on my face. They hauled him through the archway and he was gone. Bianca raised her tear-streaked face from Lorenzo's chest. And in that heartbeat, I saw her flicker of triumph. Then she was sobbing again. His hand came up and cupped the back of her head. Voice softer than he'd ever used on me. "It's okay. I've got you." I stood three steps away from them. A woman watching her own funeral. ...... I went to his study that night to beg. He was at his desk, polishing the gold lion brooch King Leo had pinned to his cloak three years ago. The Golden Lion Cross. Three men in the kingdom had been granted one. He was the youngest. He didn't look up. "It's discipline, Sera. He put hands on a court woman. The law's the law." "He didn't touch her." "Two witnesses say he did." "They're Choir girls. They'd say the sky was green if she told them to." "And you have nothing but a brother's word." He set the brooch down. I stared at him. "He is the only family I have left." His mouth tightened. "I told you to manage him." He stood. Walked around the desk. His voice was very quiet. "You want me to break the law of the court — for your family. After everything I have done for you." The words tasted like iron. "I expected better from you." He picked the brooch back up. "The Academy spot has been confirmed. It's Bianca. The announcement goes out Monday." He polished the gold lion's eye. "I'll do what I can for your brother. No formal record. But he serves his confinement, and he takes the reprimand. That's the most I can give you." The most he could give me. Like he was sliding a copper coin across a table to a beggar. I turned around and walked out. The door clicked shut behind me. In the dark corridor, with my back against the cold stone, I finally understood. The world I had built for the last eight years had been a painted curtain. And tonight, somewhere behind it, the whole world went black.

The coast guard hoisted the red banner before dawn. A storm. The worst they'd seen in a hundred years. Bearing down on Castellammare within twenty-four hours. And under cover of the storm, Tide Kingdom's fleet had been spotted off the western shore. The largest raiding force in a century. Coming to crack open the Sun Kingdom's eastern coast like an egg. The whole harbor went to first-level war footing. Lorenzo took command from the war room in the keep. Every banner of the Knight Commander's office spread across the long oak table. Couriers running in and out at full sprint. The whole apparatus of the realm under his hand. I had my own war. The clinic by the harbor was the only one for forty miles. I cleared the cots. I pulled down every shelf. I had two apprentices boiling linen at the hearth and counting tinctures by the lamp. Matteo's company had drawn the worst post on the line. The eastern bulwark. B Outpost. The breakwater that ran straight into the teeth of the storm. The most likely point where the Tide raiders would try to land. If it fell, the eastern shore went with it. Before Matteo marched out, he sent a folded note up through a stable boy. I unfolded it on the clinic counter. Three lines, in his sloppy careful hand. > Sera. Don't worry. I'm fine. When the storm passes I'll come and stay with you. Love you, Sis. — Teo I read it twice. Then I folded it small. Tucked it inside the leather pouch at my breast, against the skin. Then I went back to boiling linen. ...... The storm came in at midnight. Black wind. Walls of rain. The whole keep shook on its foundation. Slate tiles ripped from the roofs and went sailing through the dark like knives. And under that cover — exactly as the scouts had warned — the Tide ships came in. Low, dark hulls riding the swells. Sails reefed. Bowmen at the rails. They threaded the breakers in the dark and beached on the eastern shingle while the storm pinned every coastal patrol in their barracks. By the time anyone on the cliffs saw them, they were already coming up the rocks. The wounded came in one after another. Some were soldiers. Most were villagers — fishermen pulled half-drowned from collapsed roofs, an old woman with her arm split open by flying tin, a child with a scalp wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. I stitched. I poured. I bandaged. I didn't have time to drink water. At three in the morning, the first messenger bird struck the war room shutter. I was passing through with an armful of linen when I heard the clerk read it aloud. The hand belonged to Giorgio. Captain of the Seventh. > Knight Commander. Enemy on the eastern shore. They came in under the storm. We're holding the wall but they keep landing. We need reinforcement. Now. The ink had run with the rain. Giorgio's neat hand had gone ragged. You could almost hear him over the wind. Lorenzo's voice was steady as stone. "Hold the line. Reinforcements are coming." Then a second bird hit the shutter. The clerk pulled it inside. Read the scrap of vellum. Ran for the war room. He read it out loud. > Renzo. The rehearsal hall in the choir wing collapsed. Bianca tried to save the ceremonial regalia. A roof beam fell on her. She's bleeding. We can't dig her out. Please send someone. She cannot die here. Lorenzo's breath caught. I heard it from three steps away. "Is she alive?" "They don't know, my lord. They can't reach her." The clerk's voice was shaking. In my hand, the iron clamp I'd been holding hit the floor with a clean bright sound. A third bird from the Seventh slammed into the shutter. The clerk barely got it inside before it tore loose. Giorgio again. His handwriting was extremely messy. Like it had been scrawled in the middle of dying. > Knight Commander. The wall is going. The men are buying every breath with their bodies. They've landed three ships and another four are coming in behind. I beg you. Send the two reserve companies. Let us hold long enough to evacuate the villagers. Knight Commander — > Matteo's bleeding. He's your wife's brother. He's Sera's brother. Please. The war room went still. Every man around that oak table understood the math. The Knight Commander had two reserve companies under his personal seal. Two. The only forces he could move on the spot, without sending up the chain. Send them one place, the other place was being told to die. I stared at Lorenzo. I didn't run forward. I didn't drop to my knees. I just stood in the doorway, holding a roll of bloody linen, and I waited for him to do the right thing. For a moment — just a moment — I thought he would. His eyes flicked to me. They flicked back to the war table. He closed his eyes. And then he opened them. His voice was a stranger's. Cold as a sword laid in snow. "First reserve, full ride to the choir wing. Get Lady Bianca out alive. That is the order." A pause. "B Outpost holds. That's an order."

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