The Queen's Guard

Chapter 5

           

Two days later, the court was gathered for another performance, this one of new paintings, and Ryder was going out of his mind with boredom.

    As a child, when he imagined being a guard, this wasn't what he'd had in mind. He'd imagined daring fights, exciting rescues. Not hours upon hours of standing silently against the wall, watching a fat woman chatter about the plants she was growing at home. He would have preferred to do anything else at that moment.

    Ryder leashed the thought, reminding himself that it was an honor to serve in the royal palace.

    The words didn't do anything to convince him. He sighed again.

    Shouts suddenly echoed up from the stairwell, and a servant burst in through the door, red faced and sweaty. "Fire!" He shouted, waving at the gathered court. "There's a fire, get out, get out!"

    The court started shrieking and rushing for the door, and as one, the guards moved.

    Each of them swooped forward to grab the arm of their assigned lord or lady—Commander Broce grabbed the queen regent—and move them out of the door. Lady Bevile was blubbering as Ryder briskly marched her down the stairs, but he ignored her and inhaled sharply through his nose. He didn't detect any smoke—it likely was in another end of the building, far from them.

    Commander Broce lead the way to the back of the palace, out onto the grass a safe distance from the fire. It was a secluded spot reserved for the royals, and, as Ryder scanned the gathered court, a sick feeling of dread rose in his stomach.

    He stepped around a pair of ladies, still pulling Lady Bevile, to stop by his commander.

    "Where's the queen?" He asked quietly, trying to keep the anger thrumming through his body quiet. 

    The Commander leveled him a hard gaze. "Not your concern, Lord Tate."

    "Is she safe?" Lady Bevile whimpered as he accidentally squeezed her arm, and he released her. "She doesn't have a guard, Commander—who got her out?"

     A flicker in the Commander's face, but he only glanced at the queen regent before turning back to the palace. "You have your orders, Ryder. I suggest you stick to them."

    Something inside Ryder snapped at the dismissal in the Commander's words, and he clenched his fists. "Bullshit," He snarled, spinning on his heel and sprinting away from the group. He could see the flames now—on the other end of the castle, the kitchen and servant's quarters, but spreading. He ducked in through the door he'd just come through and ran up the nearest stairs, heading for the royals' quarters. Smoke was thick up here, and he cursed, crouching low to navigate. The fire had spread faster than he'd thought it could.

    A servant darted past him, and he reached out, grabbing her arm. "The queen!" He shouted, coughing from the thick smoke. "Where is she?"

    The servant pointed at a shut door at the end of the hall and Ryder released her, spinning and darting for the door.

    He shoved it open with his shoulder, the doorknob burning his hand, and burst into the room.

    Flames were everywhere—the walls, the bed, the dresser—and the wood beside him was groaning like it was about to give out. He shielded his eyes as he looked around.

    "Your Majesty?" He shouted, daring a step into the room. "Where are you?" No answer. "Queen Juliet!"

    A quiet whimper in reply. Ryder spun to the sound, spotting the queen tucked in the corner beside the bookcase that was inches away from catching fire.

    He hurtled for her, jumping over a burning couch and landing in a crouch in front of her.

    "Come on," He panted, grabbing her hands and yanking her up. "We've got to get out of here—"

    One of the ceiling beams crashed down in front of them, making both of them jump. Ryder wrapped an arm around the queen's shuddering form and guided her past it, holding his hand over her her head to keep her from standing up straight.

    His cape caught on the edge of the beam, immediately catching fire. Ryder ripped it off of his shoulders and left it hanging there, pulling the queen with him.

    She coughed as they ran through the smoke but didn't slow, and he kept his grip around her shoulders firm as he lead the way down the stairs. The walls were groaning, but by now the fire guards would have arrived from the city, bearing huge buckets of water and a pump. 

    The queen and Ryder burst out of the back door together, both of them choking now, and headed straight for the court standing petrified where Ryder had left them.

    As soon as he let go of the queen she collapsed to the ground, coughing. Her dress was dirty, her hair unbound, and an angry scrape highlighted her cheekbone. But she was alive.

    Ryder braced his hands on his knees as he coughed. His lungs felt dirty from the smoke he'd inhaled, and he tried to ignore the glare of the queen regent as she stared a hole through the back of his head. She could go to hell, for abandoning her queen.

    The entire court was staring at them—mostly at him. The fire guard arrived, and soon the sounds of water splashing filled the area.

    Ryder finally looked up to see Clarisse standing feet from him, Commander Broce at her side. The rest of the lords, ladies, and guards had moved over so the four of them were alone.

    Ryder glanced down at the queen. She was laying in the grass now, her eyes closed as if she was trying to soak up the sun. 

    "You disobeyed a direct order from your commander," Broce said quietly, fury radiating from him. "I told you to hold stay with Lady Bevile, and you ignored me. I don't know what it's like where you're from, boy, but here, we listen to our betters when they give us an order. We do not abandon our charges—"

    "The queen was going to die!" Ryder burst out. Broce glared at him, and Ryder tossed his hands in the air. "Did you want me to abandon her? She would have died if I hadn't—"

    "You do not get to make that call," Broce snapped. "Next time, if you're told to stay behind, you will stay behind. Understand?"

    "Nope." Ryder had to be high off of smoke to be taking such a tone with his commander, but he'd stopped caring a while ago. "I don't understand how some fat old Lady is more important than the queen of Trilea. Gods, she doesn't even have a personal guard!"

    Broce opened his mouth, his face red with anger, but Clarisse held up a hand. His mouth closed.

    "That's enough, Lord Tate." Her mouth was a harsh red line as she leveled a glare at him. "You're right, she doesn't have a personal guard, and now Commander Broce is very uninclined to work with you. So, I'm reassigning you: you're now the queen's personal guard. You go where she goes. You sleep when she sleeps. Her life is now totally in your hands."

    Ryder opened his mouth and then closed it. This hadn't been what he had in mind—not guarding the raving queen at his feet. "Your Majesty, I don't—"

    "You either guard the queen or you get the hell out of Amidia," Clarisse snapped, taking a step forward. "I'm done with this shit. Get out of my way."

    Ryder stepped to the side, still gaping, and watched Clarisse storm off towards the castle. The fire guard had managed to put the fires out in record time, although smoke was still spiraling off of the roof. 

    Commander Broce stalked past him with barely contained rage to follow the queen regent. Alone now, Ryder glanced down at the queen. She'd opened her eyes, and gave him a small smile.

    He scowled and turned his attention to the palace. This was just great.

Things have finally started happening, yeet! Thanks all for reading!