The Queen's Guard

Chapter 12

           

There was a light knock to his bedroom door the next morning, and Ryder shoved his book under the pillow as the door opened and Juliet came in. She'd been about to say something, but stopped, raising her eyebrows when she saw his guilty expression. Her eyes flicked to the crumpled pillow, then to the nightstand. There was only one book there.

     "Not judging," She said, grinning as he sat up.

     "I have no idea what you're talking about," He replied hastily, rubbing the back of his neck.

     "Right. Well, I just woke up, and if we hurry, we can catch leftover breakfast before going to the library. Okay? So, hurry up, is what I'm saying." She grinned at him again before breezing out of the room to let him dress.   

     They went to the library every day in the next three weeks, and Juliet only missed her morning medication twelve times, which pissed off everyone else that had to catch her to give her the bedtime pills. She reasoned that if she managed to take her evening meds every day, and her morning ones most of the time, they'd let her off.

     It worked, and the next three weeks were wonderful—reading all day, bantering with the queen, who was clearheaded and yelled at Ryder whenever he threw a book at her, which was often. She even gave him a shelf on her bookcase—the very top one, where he put the two books that she'd given him and a few others that he'd found in the library and enjoyed. She was a fast reader, tearing through stories faster than anyone he'd seen, and read almost four a day. He read slowly, making it through four large books and starting another by the end of the third week. She didn't mind, simply told him that everyone read at their own pace and whatever helped him absorb the material better was fine, as long as he didn't damage the books.

     There was a stack of books outside of his bedroom door that was as tall as his knees—books she'd found and thought that he'd enjoy. Apparently she'd put in a request for another bookcase, since hers was completely full—save for his shelf—and she was running out of room.

     When her eyes hurt from reading all day, they'd take out a deck of cards and play a game or build a card tower on one of the library tables. They'd been working on one for six days now, and it was using three decks of cards, so tall that they had to stand on chairs to extend it. Juliet told him that if he knocked it over on purpose, she'd throw him in the dungeons for the rest of his miserable life. He replied that he had no plans to knock it over, as he was too emotionally invested in it now.

     She threw a book at him.

     When Juliet had to take medication that made her drowsy—she hadn't had a full sedative since the first night—she'd lay in bed, and Ryder would sit in a chair next to her bed and read to her until she fell asleep. Most of the time she ended up interrupting him, demanding that he do better voices to capture the essence of the story. Ryder found himself obliging.

     It wasn't what he'd expected, he reflected as he pulled on a clean shirt one morning and buckled his sword to his waist as the queen impatiently bounced outside his door, but he didn't mind it, not one bit. He cared about Juliet, having spent every waking moment with her for the past five weeks, and he had to admit it was more exciting than standing behind Lady Bevile's chair for hours on end.

     "Are you ready now?" Juliet asked impatiently when he emerged from his small room. He shot her a look but nodded, and she shoved her feet in shoes to lead the way down the stairs. Her hair was tied back again, some loose strands floating around her face, and her ponytail spilled on the shoulders of her light purple shirt. She had a very similar wardrobe—leggings, casual top, and flats. He'd peeked in her closet, just once, and had immediately shut the door for fear the gowns and dresses inside would spill into her room. When he'd asked about them, she'd merely shrugged and said she didn't get many chances to dress up.