Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 60

A small job title change
“Your–Your Majesty?” Trace was sure he must have misheard.

“Bathe yourself before reporting to the Princess’s chambers. Unless a more suitable bodyguard is found, you will have the job until further notice.” King Harold declared. “Show him the way, and get him a uniform.”

“But Father!” The princess interrupted.

“As to the matter of how much mobility my daughter will be allowed, I will discuss it with the lords’ Advisory and give the order.” The King waved him away. “Daughter, return to your room while I consider the matter.”

“Father, I don’t–” She cried.

“Do not disobey me,” King Harold looked more weary and worried than angry, but his words held a finality to them that could not be ignored, even by his daughter.

The spoiled princess pursed her lips and whirled to leave the room. Anaisa sent Trace an anxious look before following after her temporary mistress.

What a very fine mess all of this was turning into. Perhaps as the princess’s guard he would finally be able to have a private conversation with the king to reveal what was going on behind the scenes.

Perhaps the princess… no, she had never seen any of the nobles. She was unlikely to know the jewelry they wore at all.

Trace bowed deeply and left, knowing that bathing was indeed a good idea. One of the guards, instead of both this time, took him to the servants’ bathhouse, and the other turned up about the time Trace was done cleaning himself. He was holding a new uniform.

The stable hands wore their own clothes covered with a thick leather apron. This was quite a change. The material was fine and fair, the style rather charming instead of merely utilitarian.

His military uniform had been a matter of function over form. Make everyone look alike, keep everyone warm.

This uniform was to impress palace guests and not be an eyesore to the royals who lived here. Decorative, stately, imposing.

Stiff.

Either this one needed some serious breaking in, or Trace finally had a clue about why the guards he had interacted with seemed so cranky.

The stiff white shirt was scratchy, though the weave was impressively tight. The breeches tucked into heavy, tall leather boots with shiny brass buckles. Over the shirt went a sleeveless blue tunic with brassy embroidery edging around the collar, armholes, and hem. He was issued a leather belt and a sheathed sword to strap onto it.

Apparently personal guards, in contrast to hallway guards, carried swords instead of spears, or so he was told when he asked. That was good, he supposed. He’d trained with a sword in the army, never a spear.

Finally, a long blue coat that matched the tunic went over everything else.

“This is the winter addition to the uniform. You do not wear it between the spring equinox and the autumn turn of the weather.”

“When does the weather turn, here?” Trace asked a little ignorantly.

“Wear it.” The other guard rolled his eyes. “I doubt you’ll be working here long enough to worry about it.”

Trace agreed, but not for the reason the guard seemed to be implying… He wanted to leave of his own volition, not be fired. He had no experience whatsoever to qualify him to guard a princess. This whole situation was nothing short of absurd.

Surely the lord’s Advisory would talk the king out of having him guard the princess, right?

Unless his blackmailer wanted him here, at the heart of the palace. Why else have him uncover a plot and report it to the king, but to gain trust and credence?

Trace gulped. Had he been maneuvered into exactly the position he was supposed to be in? He remembered the deep voice from behind the screen advocating for him to take the job… was that merely a coincidence?

The thought sent a chill down his spine. He didn’t like the thought of being a pawn, but that’s exactly what he was, wasn’t it? Until he could throw off the hold his blackmailer had on him, he was stuck. And he didn’t even know yet who was behind it!

Even if he did know who was pulling the strings, would it change much? Would he be able to prove anything? He hadn’t been keeping the letters with him, for fear of being searched and found out. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe he would need to prove his instructions to somebody, to the king…

Perhaps the king would be able to recognize the handwriting, as he did with Yemi. Trace frowned. He imagined the blackmailer was too clever for something like that. Besides, Yemi had been sending letters to a willing co-conspirator, not an enemy.

And Trace, certainly, viewed his blackmailer as an enemy.

If the handwriting wasn’t intentionally disguised or written by a third party, that would be surprising. Trace rubbed his face with one hand.

The man was constantly a step ahead of him. How could he ever hope to best an opponent that was so far above his station in life, and had planned so far in advance?

It all seemed so calculated now. Uncover the plot, get in good with the king. Become trusted. And now, would he be pressured to betray that trust?

Trace sighed and shook his head. Maybe this was the end. Maybe that was all the blackmailer truly wanted, to anonymously uncover the plot and save the kingdom from the grasp of its enemies?

As he slipped on the coat, he felt something in the pocket. A piece of paper. Trace frowned. The note he’d gotten before the royal summons, he’d torn up and disposed of while he was washing up.

“Was this someone else’s uniform before?” He asked the guard who’d brought it.

“Not as far as I know, I just got it from the storage keeper,” The man shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Trace turned away with the excuse of adjusting his hair in the looking glass. As the other guards turned away in boredom, he slipped the paper out of the pocket of the coat.

It was another note, in his blackmailer’s handwriting.