The Queen's Guard

Chapter 14

           

They did have baths ready, and they both spent over an hour soaking in the warm water. When Ryder met Juliet in the hall when they were done, both of them dripping water on the floor from their hair, she grinned at him yet again.

     "I like it here," She told him. "Let's go."

     "Go where?" She'd already set off down the hall, and he scrambled to follow her, shaking his head like a wet dog.

     "Outside."

     He faked a groan. "We've just spent five days outside, Jett. Really?"

     "Yes, really." She shot him a look over her shoulder. "If you don't like it you can stay inside."

     "Just because we've left Amidia doesn't mean I'm not your guard."

     She sighed, opening the front door of the manor. "Pity. I was hoping I could get some alone time."

     "You just had an hour of alone time, silly." He playfully shoved her shoulder and she stuck out her tongue, sitting down on the grass

     "You keep attacking your queen, lowly guard, and I'll throw you in the dungeons."

     Laughing, he plopped down beside her. "I don't think there are dungeons here."

     "I'm sure I could find somewhere to imprison you. I could just lock you in the music room."

     Ryder threaded the grass through his fingers and raised his eyebrows at her. "Then you wouldn't be able to sleep again." Her cheeks turned pink, but he wasn't finished. "I'd just play the piano until your ears bled."

     "You can play piano?"

     Her eyes had lit up. He shrugged and didn't look up at her, instead watching the blades of grass between his fingers. "Not very well."

     "You should have told me—you've got to play for me!"

     "Your ears will bleed, Jett. I don't think you'd like it."

     Rolling her eyes and laying back on the grass, she threw a handful of leaves at him. "Let me decide for myself, won't you? What can you play?"

     Ryder groaned and covered his face in his hands. "I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm not playing piano for you."

     "What if I order you to?"

     He opened his fingers a crack to glare at her. "Still no."

     Juliet sighed dramatically and rolled onto her stomach. "Suit yourself." There was a pause, and he thought she'd let it go. Then, "Will you play for my birthday?"

     "When's your birthday?"

     "In a few weeks. After we get back."

     "Doesn't Clarisse have something planned? She loves her fancy parties."

     She sighed again. "She's planning a ball this year, but I'm not invited." She gave him a lopsided grin. "Too crazy to be let out."

     "You should make her clean the stables for the rest of her life when you reclaim your throne."

     The smile on her face faded, and she didn't meet his eyes. He shifted closer to her. "What's wrong?"

     She shook her head. "Nothing. I just..." Now she looked up at him, something glittering behind her eyes that he couldn't decipher. "I don't want to talk about Clarisse."

     "Sure." He settled down so he was laying beside her. "So...what do you want to talk about?" 

     "I know better than to ask about the piano."

     "You'd better."

     She laughed. "Okay, okay."

     "I gave you the run down on my family." He chewed his lip, propped his head in his hand. "I've heard of your family, but...you don't talk about them much."

     "Really?" She raised her brows. "You want to talk about my parents?" He shrugged, and she sighed. "Where to start? My father, Leon, was huge. He had to duck to get through most doorways in the palace, and I remember I only could sit on his shoulders if we were outside, otherwise I'd hit the ceiling. And my mother, Aubrey, was the shortest person I've ever met. She only came up to my father's chest, and they had a stool in their bedroom so she could comb his hair." There was a sad, wistful smile on Juliet's face as she stared at somewhere in the distance. "Whenever a visiting royal family would come who hadn't been there before, they'd always assume that my father handled the battlefield, and ask him about it. He would just lean back, and my mother would smile at them and answer all their questions. They used to call her Aubrey the Lionheart on the battlefield—she led Trilea to victory against the neighboring countries like no one in history had ever done before. And my father...he would give the most beautiful speeches. People would be upset about something, and he'd walk in the room and start talking. Even the ones who were brandishing weapons would stop to listen." She sniffed, and Ryder touched her shoulder.

     "You don't have to..."

     "No, it's alright. I haven't spoken about them in forever." She kept her eyes on her knotted fingers. "I was about eight when I started having the nightmares. They were both worried, and we went to several different doctors to try and find out what was wrong, but they didn't want to draw too much attention. The rebels would use the information against us, and then we'd be at war again. So they kept it quiet. And then, two years later, my father got sick." Ryder knew this part—everyone in the kingdom knew this story, but Juliet was staring into the distance, lost in the memory of another time. He didn't interrupt her. "When he died a few months later, I think...everyone said that my sanity cracked, and when my mother died when I was 12, it shattered completely. So my mother's brother ruled as regent—he would have anyways, I was to have a regent until I was 17—but when the rebels killed him, Clarisse got the regent title, even though I was already queened. It didn't cross anyone's mind that I was able—I was willing, and ready, and yet none of them even glanced at me." She ripped up a fistful of grass angrily. "Like it was unfathomable that I could have gotten better."

     "But you have." Ryder frowned. "You've gotten so much better in the time I've known you, Jett—that throne would be yours again if you pushed."

     "And then what?" She asked hopelessly, looking back up at him. "I take the throne back—what if I'm not permanently better? What if I can't do it, and Clarisse has to come back?" She shook her head. "Better to just...let them take over."

     Ryder was still frowning. She was scared of failing, that was what was holding her back. "Juliet—"

     She shook her head, held up a hand to stop him. "I don't want to talk about it, Ryder."

     "But if you—"

     "No." Her mouth was a firm line, but her eyes were gleaming. "Not now."

     She got to her feet to cut off the conversation, but he scrambled up after her, dusting grass stains off of his clothes. "Then when? Because Clarisse isn't fit to be queen, not forever."

     "I can keep her in line from the shadows. I don't need to wear a crown for that."

     "You keep her in line, and at the next turn she drugs you to keep you out of the way—this can't last forever."

     "Well, this is what I've got," She snapped, crossing her arms. "If you don't like it, you can find a better queen to serve."

     Before he could open his mouth to reply, to take a step back to cool down, she'd spun on her heel and stormed inside. Ryder let out an angry breath and ran a hand through his hair. That had gone as well as he'd expected.