Westfield
She looked at me with those intelligent doe brown eyes, despite her prowess I saw fragility there. Like me, she had separated herself from her work. Like me, her identity was so splintered it was difficult to catch her. Like me, she hoped that I would not lie to her.
“Who are you really?” she asked quietly, meeting my eyes.
“Justin,” I breathed, a name I had not spoken for many years. “My name was Justin Kohen, once a holy knight of the realm. I was placed here as I have a striking resemblance and slight family ties to the Westfield name.”
Saying the words made me drench up old memories, furious flashes of images coming unbidden from my mind. I recited the old incantation of peace, feeling the memories settle like dust on a road. Small incantations and mind games were all I had left of my old life.
“Who placed you here?” She asked me, her eyes watching my face. I could see concern there, though carefully held in place as though it was a domino she feared would lead to other emotions.
“I never saw her face.” I said truthfully, “I was… approached when the temple was attacked by the usurper king, met at the extraction point. I once belonged to a sect that kept the royal lineage, feats, and history protected. It is a family business you could say – many of the holy people and healers there could trace their ancestors to the first priests and sages.”
My mind traced back the memories, though seen through a haze as though something held them just out of sight. I could barely remember what my family had looked like, the tunnels we had travelled through. I remembered the feeling of weight, as though I had carried something heavy.
“Why are you here?” She asked me, snapping me into the present, “there should be… rumours.”
“Not many, nor could it be proven,” I said grimly. It was true. Many of those who remembered what the true Tomas Westfield looked like were dead or placed under heavy enchantments and mind changing. Even now I could barely remember the face of the once lord of the city. Our likeness had been so similar that even tapestries could remain as they were.
“Surely the lord had family.”
I grimaced, “yes. But I was not part of it. I was taught court duties, strategy and expected etiquette. Soon after that I was thrown into power.”
The instant acceptance of me at Westfield had been eery, as though I had always been Tomas Westfield. Even now, if I did not routinely search for memories of my parents they too would be lost to the recesses of my mind. It frightened me that in a moment I could lose who I was.
“You are a puppet.” She said not unkindly, frowning, “I do not understand why I am sent to marry an imposter. Surely my parents know of this.”
My hands moved on their own, gripping hers, “do you wish it not to be so?” My heart quaked, though used to lies and covers, this woman’s gaze cut through to my soul.
A single wave of her hair fell across her face, my hand moving to curl it behind her ear. The action had us move closer together, her eyes growing large at the contact.
“I don’t know.” She whispered, “but acting or not – you rule this city fairly and with love. I could never despise you, despite your deception.”
She moved closer, her scent lingering between us before she stood. I watched her, unable to take my eyes from her. She moved with such grace, every step a deliberate move. A queen on a chessboard. She took the teapot off the fire, using the provided rag to lift and pour the liquid into cups.
Returning to me, she placed the tea on the table.
“Everything I tell you must be kept from the king.” I said softly, suddenly fearful he could hear us – even here. Stories told of a man deathly cruel and ageless.
“Do you know why you were placed?” She murmured.
I tried, as I had before, to look into my memories. To see the purpose of my station. As before a fog drew over my eyes and I sighed, shaking my head. “No.”
What she saw on my face must have bothered her for she reached out to me. I looked down at our intertwined hands.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?” She asked quietly.
“What I just did.” I smiled ruefully. I had wanted her to know. I knew what it was to wonder how much of me was me, and how much was a ruse I was beginning to believe. But there was more. Something that had been growing inside of me, an intense need and desire that went beyond wanting to be with her.
“I know,” I said softly, collecting my thoughts, “that I am truly not the man you were led to believe. You are promised to a dead man. And now you are to marry a man who day by day forgets who he once was. Soon all I will have is my name. I have been Lord Tomas Westfield a long time. But I just... wanted you to know that I will never abandon you. That I will stand by you. That I-”
“Love me.” She whispered, smiling ruefully. “I wish I was able to give my heart as you have.” She smiled bitterly, though I knew instinctively it was not me she was angered by. I wished to reach out and take her doubts and worries, to free her from her responsibilities and fears.
“I will try.” She said, “I will learn if you show me. But I…” She shook her head, “matters of the heart have never mattered in arranged marriages.”
I pulled her to me, the heavy fabric of her gown traveling across the floor as she curled into my chest. I was reminded how light she was, though a powerful spirit resided inside her, her body was so fragile. “That is all I wish for Madelaine. I was not born a noble, I am perhaps weaker than most lords.”
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, her hair smelling of jasmine. “No, Justin.” She said, sending shivers up my spine, “perhaps it is the nobility who have forgotten the strength of kindness. And love.”
Hamish
“Hamish.” A voice called behind me, forcing me to turn. William looked down at me from his horse, stilling it with gentle tones.
“What brings you into town?” I asked him, glancing behind me at his escort.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he replied wirily, “it is out of character seeing you outside of Lady Elwood’s shadow.”
I looked at him meaningfully and his eyebrows drew together. At least someone in this place understood Lainie was more than a beautiful lady.
“Johnathan,” he called out, one of the retainers pulling forward, “take the afternoon off. Hamish will be accompanying me.”
Without a word the tall man dismounted, moving to stand in front of me. He pointed at my tunic, his green eyes smiling at me.
“Going to have to swap to the uniform if you’re going to go with the Captain.” He said cheerfully.
I looked up at William who remained unreadable, a shrug his only response.
“Very well,” I sighed, grabbing the ends of my tunic just as he did. The swap completed, the retainer gave me an open smile, clapping me on the back.
“Thankyou, sir,” Johnathan grinned, “my wife will be thanking you as well.”
“I want that back!” I called as I swung up onto the horse, watching Jonathan walk away. He rose a hand in acknowledgement before blending into the buildings.
I met William’s unreadable face, watching the twinkle in his eye grow.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Border patrol.” He said, steering his horse, “it’s normally Westfield’s duty but he told me he was… finishing an urgent report.”
“Ah,” I said, amused that Tomas would lie to his own captain.
“Yes, it’s amusing.” William sighed, “all you’re doing is confirming my fears.”
“In what way?” I asked.
William gave me an exceptionally long look before turning away. “Any bodyguard who does not worry for his lady – especially when she is alone with a man tells me many things.”
I felt my gut twist at my slip up, knowing no lie could really change his mind. “You said Lord Westfield was finishing a report.”
“I did – didn’t I.” William agreed, “after these errands you and I are going to have a little chat.”
I gritted my teeth, wishing Madelaine was less of a scent hound and more cautious, “lucky me.”
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