Fourth Point of Contact (Legends of Lobe den Herren Book 1) Page 2

  Of course, Brahms kept eating it, and, of course, Ren kept talking enough for both of them, because that was just how they’d always been. Ren laughed through dinner, feeling lighter than he had in a long time, anticipation curling through him at the thought of starting over in a new country. He wouldn’t be able to have a lover, but he’d have Brahms, and surely that would be enough.

  Five years later

  Ren always felt that the name ‘Zonhoven Palace’ fit the place perfectly. Or, at least, he’d come to that conclusion once someone had explained it meant ‘enclosed garden.’ The palace seemed made of gardens, with the rich, vibrant colors of plant beds weaving their way in and out of the building. When Ren first saw it five years ago, he’d thought it a gem of architecture, with white spires so sleek and tall they threatened to touch the sky. His opinion of it hadn’t changed in all his years of being Castle Warden. Even during the winter months, the palace grounds still displayed a wealth of colors due to the evergreens and winter flowers.

  Shiirei had winters, but not like the ones here, with snows that reached several feet deep. Ren liked spring best, though, with its warmth and gentle breezes. He walked along the outer courtyard, enjoying the sun on his face and the delicate murmurs of the fountains. Truly, the place still looked stunning to his eyes, each curve of the flower beds and the mosaic tilework under his feet a masterpiece. Aart liked bold, contrasting colors, and this hallway had a red theme weaving through it. Red, black, and white tiles, red flowers, even red marble columns in a stark contrast against the white marble of the building. Fall touched the trees outside, turning the leaves golden orange mixed in with the reds. His first few months here, the color coding of the hallways guided him, preventing him from being completely lost. Now he could just appreciate the beauty of it as he did his patrol. Ren breathed it all in with a smile on his face and hoped he never got used to it.

  Funny, how he ended up here instead of at Brahms Fortress. Brahms had had every intention of Ren either joining him in the army or making him warden at his own home, but neither had happened. Upon meeting Queen Eloise, she’d taken a shine to Ren and instead made him the warden at Zonhoven Palace in Castel-de-Haut. It wasn’t what Ren had planned, back then, but he didn’t regret his choice. It was a good place, with good people, and he enjoyed his work here. The only downside was that he only saw the Brahms family irregularly; which was a shame, as he adored the whole family.

  It was just as well he’d found work here, anyway. Since the war, the countries of the world had entered an era of peace and had little use for a discharged general. The Mongs and Zaytsevians up north still rattled about promising trouble, but they’d been doing that for centuries. Ren didn’t pay it too much attention.

  Ren had worked with the Bhodhsans, Scovians, De Contis, and Tu’is during the war, as they had all come to help protect Shiirei. He’d found the Bhodhsans to be large, dominating warriors who could cheerfully drink anyone under the table. Aart shared its eastern border with Bhodhsa, and Ren was very thankful for it, as they were a staunch ally who had no humor where either the Zaytsevians or the Mongs were concerned. The De Contis were closer to Shiirei and leaned toward the finer arts over warfare, but could be dependable in a tight spot. The Tu’is possessed the size of two men and ate like three, but the island people were cheerful and outgoing on a regular basis. And, of course, the Scovians were ambitious and ruthless. Scovians were inclined to react with commendable speed and force against any attack. Then again, they shared a direct border with the Mongs and Zaytsevians, so it was no wonder.

  Ren felt rather thankful for his experience in the war, working with all of those countries’ soldiers, as it had prepared him for his job now. A great deal of politics went into the job of warden. He had a deputy warden, of course, but he and Hartmann divvied up the duties for their mutual sanity. Hartmann dealt with change of shift, general security on the grounds, and staff problems. Ren dealt with everything else, which included insuring that his foreign guests didn’t run afoul of trouble or start any.

  Technically, walking patrol of the main buildings was more along Hartmann’s line, but Ren found it beneficial to do at least one patrol a day. It gave him a chance to spot any possible problems, for one thing. And bending another set of eyes to the general security of the palace grounds was never a bad idea, as Hartmann could only oversee so much. As Ren walked, he continued his inspection, making sure the right doors were locked as they were supposed to be, and that the lantern sconces had enough oil in them. He saw a few that were low and made note to have them filled later. Well-lit buildings were the first step to discourage intruders or petty trouble.

  “Warden!”

  Turning, he spied one of his young guardsmen sprinting toward him, flushed in the face and panting for breath. All of his guardsmen were in good shape, Ren made sure of it, so if he were this out of breath then he had been hunting for Ren for a while. “Chaz, what is it?”

  Chaz stumbled to a halt, hands on knees, and lifted a palm to wipe away sweat before it could drip into his grey eyes, making his fair hair slick into weird spikes. “Sir. The queen urgently requests your help. A magpie flew down and grabbed her signet ring.”

  That did not sound good at all, although Ren wasn’t entirely sure what he could do about it. “Where?”

  “Formal Gardens, sir.”

  Ren took off running, legs stretching out as he left the current garden and raced for the one centrally located inside the palace grounds. He didn’t bother with the stairs. Leaping up and grabbing the window sills, he hauled himself through the opening, then crossed the hallway in two bounds before exiting out the window on the other side. He repeated it twice until he’d reached the second level, bypassing multiple staircases before exiting out another window, lightly leaping onto rooftops and skidding down the sleek tiles to land on the ground again. Doing this, he shaved off ten minutes of running through packed hallways and reached the back gate to the Formal Gardens in five minutes flat.

  The queen stood facing the opposite direction, obviously agitated as she shifted from foot to foot. In front of her, two stories up and perched on the climbing vine that crawled up the exterior wall, was a magpie curiously pecking at something it grasped in its claws.

  Ren breathed out a sigh of relief. So the bird was still here. Good, that gave them a chance to do something. Not wanting to startle the bird into taking off, he slowed his pace to a normal stride. “My Queen.”

  Turning, Queen Eloise spotted him and lit up hopefully, wringing a delicate handkerchief with both hands. “Oh, Ren. You came so quickly, good. Please, the magpie has my signet ring. We tried to catch it, only it evaded us and landed up there.”

  “I will do all I can,” he assured her, sizing up the situation. Catching the bird was out of the question—it would take off as soon as he got too close. It only left one option. Turning, he spotted one of his guardsmen and directed, “Wilkes, I need a bow.”

  “Had a feeling, sir,” Wilkes answered, greying mustache tweaking up into a grin. “I sent young Fillmore for one a few minutes ago. None of us wanted to attempt it; you’re the best shot here.”

  Ren could, in all honesty, say that Wilkes was perfectly correct. “Good thinking. My Queen, how did this happen?”

  “I was eating pastries on the bench,” she answered, staring at the bird in distress, her voluminous skirts swishing as she shifted her weight back and forth, “and got a bit of jam filling smeared on it. Ada took the ring from me to clean it, and the bird swooped down and snagged it right out of her hand. It was the most alarming thing; I thought he’d scratch her head as he came in, his angle was so steep. I’ve never seen a bird so bold.”

  “Your ring is just that pretty, My Queen,” Ren responded, teasing a little, as he could tell she was truly worried about it. “Even the birds can see its beauty.”

  She cast him a glance, her upturned nose scrunching in aggravation. “I can do without their praise, if this is the form it takes. Oh, there’s Fillmore.
Slowly, man, don’t scare the bird off.”

  Ren met the guardsman halfway, as he knew you didn’t arm yourself openly while pointing a weapon at your prey. Birds were smart enough to recognize a bow and arrow and they would fly off if it looked like imminent danger. He had already memorized the position of the bird; he didn’t need to look. Taking bow and arrow, he kept his back to the bird and nocked the arrow. “Thank you, Fillmore. Step back, please.”

  Fillmore immediately did so.

  Taking in a deep breath, Ren cleared his head of all thoughts, all distractions. He’d only have one shot at this. Everyone else went perfectly still as well, holding their breaths. With a quick spin, he faced the bird, lifting the bow high and drawing the arrow back so the fletching kissed his cheek. The bird realized the silence was odd, something must be happening, and spread its wings to take flight.

  The arrow whistled through the air, striking it dead in the chest.

  Wilkes immediately trotted over to where the bird landed.

  Queen Eloise clapped, bouncing up and down in place, which looked a little odd considering she was over forty years old and had two children. She beamed at him. “Good shot!”

  “Thank you, My Queen,” he acknowledged with a small bow. Queen Eloise had welcomed him warmly in this country, so he was relieved, for her sake, to get such an important keepsake back. It was one of the few things she had left from her father. “Wilkes, is the ring down as well? I didn’t hear it hit the ground.”

  “That’s because it didn’t, sir,” Wilkes reported in aggravation. “The bird let go of it before it fell, I think. It’s still up there in the branches somewhere.”

  Queen Eloise growled, staring upwards. “Of course it wasn’t that easy.”

  “Nothing ever is,” Ren commented idly, already taking off his coat. The fall weather had some remaining heat to it, and after running frantically here, Ren wanted to doff the garment and cool down a little. “Fillmore, hold this please. Thank you. Don’t fret, My Queen, I can fetch it back again.”

  “I have no doubt, assuming it’s still up there and not fallen somewhere out of sight,” Queen Eloise responded with full confidence. “Tell me, is there anything you can’t climb?”

  “I’m sure there is,” he responded, testing the vines that clung to the wall. They had a sturdy grip in the masonry; he felt reasonably sure they would hold his weight. “I just haven’t found it yet.”

  Queen Eloise snorted, blue eyes sparkling in amusement. “So humble.”

  “Now what use is false humility?” he asked her. Grabbing a branch, he hauled himself up and paused for a moment. Not even a creak in the vine. Good, it was safe to climb. He passed hand-over-hand steadily, using foot holds if he could find one, trusting in his upper body strength if he couldn’t. He hadn’t yet done a training session this morning, and this workout warmed his muscles quickly, making him doubly glad he’d shirked his jacket.

  Two stories took him a minute to climb, cautiously testing the vine’s attachment to the stone as he went, as it looked a little flimsy to hold an adult man’s weight. It proved sturdy enough, however, allowing him to scale up to the same area the bird had perched on. Carefully, he rummaged around through the thick green leaves, not wanting to carelessly knock the ring off. Surely it was in here somewhere. He shifted a little more to the right, and by doing so, the sunlight previously blocked by his head shone through. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a gleam of metal. He had to nearly flatten his head against the vines to see it neatly tucked away underneath the leaves. “Got it!”

  “Excellent! Oh good job, my Warden.”

  Placing it in his front breast pocket, he climbed carefully down, dropping the last six feet, his knees bending to absorb the impact. Then he fished the ring out again and presented it to her on a flat palm. “At your service, My Queen.”

  “This is one of those times that I bless General Brahms for bringing you to us,” Queen Eloise informed him, replacing the signet ring on her middle finger. “Although I don’t think he expected me to keep you.”

  Ren laughed because it was completely true.

  “Here, come sit and take some refreshment. You certainly earned it. Guardsman Wilkes, Fillmore, thank you for your assistance. And please thank Guardsman Chaz for me.”

  “It was our pleasure, My Queen,” Wilkes assured her before resuming his post near the side door once more.

  Ren took his jacket back from Fillmore with thanks, shrugging into it before joining Queen Eloise on the bench. The maid, Ada, served him a cup of cool ginger tea, which he appreciated, along with an orange scone. Queen Eloise feeding him some treat was nothing new. She seemed determined to put extra flesh on him somewhere, as by this country’s standards he remained too thin. But with all of the training, patrolling, and running around he did, her efforts were thwarted. It didn’t keep her from trying, however.

  The scone dissolved in his mouth with a burst of flavors and he hummed his appreciation.

  “Divine, aren’t they?” Queen Eloise said knowingly. “Norman has a niece he brought in as an apprentice last week, and she is gifted with pastries. She’s a lovely girl, you know. Very pretty and with a great deal of charm.”

  Knowing very well what she drove at, Ren finished the bite in his mouth and eyed her wearily. “My Queen.”

  “Don’t start,” she responded, full mouth thinning into a line. “I know you keep saying you have no interest in women, not in that way, but have you even tried? What if you just haven’t met the right woman yet?”

  “My Queen.” Ren kept his patience, although he struggled to do so. It wasn’t her fault, this persistence, and he understood the root of it, why she kept trying. Queen Eloise thought of him as a nephew or a cousin—someone precious to her. She wanted him happy, hated seeing him alone, and kept encouraging him to date. But she had no concept of what same-gender attraction meant, what it was like, and couldn’t understand his refusals. Every attempt to explain it had failed, but Ren gamely tried again. “My Queen, let me ask you something. Are you attracted to cats?”

  Queen Eloise blinked, expression blank, then a little horrified. “Heavens, no!”

  “How can you be so sure? Perhaps you haven’t met the right cat yet.” He didn’t say another word, just waited.

  With her own words turned neatly against her, Queen Eloise sat for a moment, speechless, then she grew perturbed. “Is it really the same for you? The idea of being in a woman’s embrace is that odd?”

  “I’m afraid so. It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company—in fact most of the women in the palace are perfectly delightful people. But being intimate with them is unfathomable to me.” Had he finally gotten this across? She wasn’t blithely moving on, for once, but seriously pondering his words.

  Queen Eloise looked away, toward the far corner of the garden, a frown bunching her brows together. “I see. Well, no, I don’t completely understand. I suppose I never will. When I first heard of your inclinations, I thought it strange, and likely a phase of some sort. I thought you’d pass through it. I hoped so, at least. You’re such a lovely young man, Ren. I do want to see you happy.”

  “I know you do.” He decided to leave it at that.

  Worrying at her bottom lip, she pondered it another moment. “Perhaps when General Brahms returns from the border he can take over your duties here for a month or two. If we send you temporarily back to your country, do you think you can find someone?”

  Ren spluttered, grateful he hadn’t taken a sip of tea. “Are you seriously suggesting sending me back to Shiirei for an omijei?”

  “An omijei?”

  He didn’t quite know how to link it to something in Aart. As far as he knew, the tradition didn’t exist in this culture. “It’s something like a marriage meeting. Parents on both sides introduce their children with the hopes that they might be attracted to each other.”

  Queen Eloise clapped her hands together, perking up. “Splendid! So your country does have a way of introducing you to s
omeone.”

  “Wait, wait.” Ren put up a staying hand, torn between groaning and wincing. “It’s not that easy. You do remember that my parents died during the war? I don’t have anyone to make the introductions for me. Also, doing introductions for a same-sex couple is unheard of. Shiirei barely tolerates men with my orientation and marriage is illegal. That’s something for couples who can produce offspring.”

  It was a funny sight, seeing the Queen of Aart openly pout. “That won’t do at all. Shame on you, Ren, you got my hopes up for a moment. But surely even without this omijei thing, you can find someone for yourself?”

  “Do you really think I can find someone in two months who would be willing to abandon everything in Shiirei to follow me here?” he asked her dryly.

  “You’re charming,” Queen Eloise responded tartly. “You’ll manage.”

  Perhaps because Prince Charles was on the verge of being engaged, his mother had weddings on the brain. Ren decided it high time to change the subject. “If it’s all the same to you, My Queen, I’d prefer to spend time with my friend once he’s home. I haven’t seen him in over a year, after all. Did you say he’s returning soon?”

  “In the next couple of months, they’re just about finished up there,” she confirmed. “And I suppose I can’t blame you, I know how close the two of you are. He was very disappointed when I wouldn’t give you leave to serve with him.”

  This was news to Ren. Surprised, he asked, “He requested I be deployed with him?”

  “He did, quite earnestly. And I knew why—the two of you are practically inseparable—but I really can’t do without you here. You’re the best warden we’ve ever had, and with all of these preparations for Charles’ upcoming engagement, I really cannot afford any mistakes. They’d have international repercussions.” Mouth downturned, she admitted in a lower tone, “Although I did feel awful about refusing the request. He didn’t look it—you know how straight-faced he always is—but I gained the distinct impression he felt vastly disappointed.”