Court of Blades

Chapter One

A chill settled in Brock Tatum’s bones as he dismounted his horse and looked up at the imposing keep at Dinefwr Castle. The stone walls were washed in orange light cast by burning torches. The dark clouds above seemed to bow in reverence, as if they knew what had occurred inside. 

It was a rather cliché setting for a murder.

Handing the reins to the waiting groom, Tatum drew a long breath and headed up the path towards the inner-ward, gravel crunching underfoot. His gaze swung to the English flag flapping angrily above, then to the guard at the chamber rooms’ entrance up ahead. The man ran his eyes over the defender’s uniform, then nodded once. 

Tatum entered the dark corridor, the smell of blood greeting him. Copper and iron. Sweet and sickly. 

Familiar. 

He headed towards the open door at the end, where soft light and hushed voices drifted out. When he stepped inside the bedchamber, his eyes went to the corpse laid out on the bed. The Earl of Cornwall was dead. Even from that distance, Tatum could see a bloodied slash across his throat. On one side of the bed stood a sombre-looking Lord Wybert and on the other side a priest. Wybert glanced in his direction, and the men exchanged a silent greeting before the duke returned his attention to the priest.

Tatum looked around for his men and found Kelton Alveye and Nixon Hadewaye standing in the corner of the room, brows slightly furrowed and lips pressed tightly together. He walked over to join them.

‘Where were you?’ Hadewaye whispered when he came to a stop next to them. 

He had been naked in a warm bed with his favourite silk-weaver. She was a pretty thing with an infectious laugh. He loved to make her laugh, and the fact that she was easily amused meant he always left with an inflated ego. ‘I had business in Llanddeilo.’

Alveye rolled his eyes. ‘Was that business a curvaceous blonde with a husband who’s currently away on a ship delivering silk?’

Hadewaye frowned. ‘She’s married?’

Tatum quietly cleared his throat. ‘This is a very shocking, and brand-new, revelation. I’ll be sure to raise the subject with her tonight.’

Alveye shook his head. ‘Optimistic. When the warden learns of the earl’s death, he’s going to call us all back to Chadora and skin us alive.’ 

Tatum winced. ‘What do we know so far?’

Alveye brushed a hand over his cropped rust-coloured hair. ‘I guess someone wanted to send a clear message to King Edward about who is and isn’t welcome here.’

‘A rather personal one,’ Hadewaye added. ‘This kingdom’s going to end up fighting a war they aren’t ready for if they keep this up.’ His voice was thick with fatigue.

They watched as Father Amlyn brought a hand to his nose, gaining control of his senses before making the sign of the cross. This was known as a bad death because the earl had passed away unprepared, with no confession of his sins or last rites. This could earn him a spot in purgatory or even hell, according to his beliefs.

‘Four English noblemen dead within twelve months,’ Alveye said with a heavy breath.

Hadewaye glanced at him. ‘And we may be training the killers.’

‘More likely peasantry,’ Tatum said. Though he had to admit, it did not paint a very good picture of the work underway in the newly defined kingdom of Carmarthenshire. It had been twelve months since the English were driven out, but the wounds left by them were still painfully raw for some.

‘Amen,’ Lord Wybert said when the priest concluded his final prayer. 

Hadewaye made the sign of the cross, prompting Alveye to flick his ear. ‘You’re not Catholic.’

Hadewaye threw his elbow into the defender’s side. ‘I was being respectful.’

A stern-faced Tatum nodded to the door, and the three of them quietly exited the room. They had barely made it out into the corridor when Lord Wybert stopped them.

‘Commander.’

Tatum moved away from the door, then waited for the young earl to reach him. He was an imposing sort of man with a calm persona and confident stride. ‘I’m sorry for your loss, my lord. I know the two of you were close.’

Wybert bowed his head in a gesture of appreciation. ‘He was a good man and loyal friend.’ A beat of respectful silence passed. ‘I shall be leaving for England in the morning to meet with King Edward. I am certain he will have questions.’

‘We’re working hard to find out who’s behind these attacks,’ Alveye said. 

Wybert nodded. ‘I appreciate that. We must keep Dinefwr Castle open for trade purposes. Many back home are dependent on the grain, and Carmarthenshire still needs iron.’

The kingdom was mostly self-sufficient. Iron was the only thing it needed brought in, while England was reliant on the region for copper, silver, and grain. The only reason the Carmarthen Militia had agreed to the deal was for weapon production. Weapons that would be used against England if the relationship soured. 

‘Is that wise given what’s happening here?’ Tatum asked. ‘Perhaps you should consider closing Dinefwr until we can guarantee the safety of its occupants.’

Wybert looked between the three of them, eyebrows raised. ‘Dinefwr is the only English-occupied castle in the kingdom. Closing it would halt trade.’

The lord owned one of the largest iron mines in Gloucestershire and therefore had the most to lose.

‘Maybe that’s not a bad thing.’ Hadewaye gestured to the room where the body was. ‘Honestly, I’ll be surprised if this news doesn’t trigger a war. The king will be—’

‘Let me handle the king,’ Wybert replied. ‘He is not one to put his own grief before the welfare of his people.’ 

That was a relief to hear, because a war would be disastrous for everyone involved, regardless of the outcome. 

‘I might have a solution,’ Wybert said.

The three defenders waited for him to continue.

Wybert leaned in. ‘What if we were to bring in welcomed occupants?’

Tatum crossed his arms. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning, what if Dinefwr Castle were occupied by Welsh nobility?’

Tatum glanced at the others to see if they were as confused as he was. ‘A sound plan except for the fact that every noble family is either dead or still hiding in the north. The only Welsh people around these parts are the peasantry who were too stubborn to die.’

Wybert clapped his hands together as though deciding something. ‘Leave it with me. I think I have a solution that will suit everyone.’ His gaze locked on Tatum’s once more. ‘I need your assistance in keeping Dinefwr Castle secure until I return.’

The entitlement was exhausting. ‘Our orders come from Chadora, my lord. We’ll continue supporting the Carmarthen Militia until the warden tells us otherwise.’ 

Wybert appeared unfazed by the gentle rejection. ‘Then I shall write to him personally.’ 

Of course you will. 

Wybert clapped him on the shoulder. ‘We are all so fortunate to have Chadora’s support through this transition.’ He stepped past the defenders and strode away.

The three defenders watched him until he was out of sight.

‘So… what did we just agree to?’ Hadewaye asked.

Tatum glanced in his direction. ‘Anything he wants, apparently.’ He released a noisy breath. ‘Let’s go. We’ve a killer to find.’

Chapter 2

Charlotte stood with a paintbrush in hand and eyes fixed on the grey horizon. Her brother was seated on a wool blanket with the dog beside him, his face turned up to the sky.

‘I smell rain,’ he announced. 

Charlotte touched her brush to the wooden board depicting the scenery before her. ‘It is definitely on the way.’

Oliver turned his head in her direction. ‘What does it look like today?’

She studied the bleak view. ‘It looks like… the sadness one carries in their chest. Heavy and dreary.’

Oliver reached out to pet the oversized brown-and-black dog who was keenly watching their surroundings. Sir Miles took his role as guide and guard dog very seriously. ‘And yet it tastes clean and invigorating.’

She suppressed a smile. ‘Further confirmation that sight is quite overrated.’

Her brother had been born blind a few years before her own dramatic entrance into the world, which left them both without a mother. Their priest had once told her that Oliver’s blindness was atonement for her mother’s past sins—it was always the mother’s fault—and the price for getting a healthy child had been her life. Charlotte’s faith in God waned after that conversation. Though coincidentally, it returned when the man dropped dead from heart failure a few months later.

‘Are you cold?’ Oliver asked.

She was covered in goose bumps but not ready to return inside. ‘A little.’

‘I have trouble gauging the temperature when Sir Miles is pressed up against me like a heated stone.’

The dog was ideal company in the cold months and suffocating in the summer. 

Charlotte looked down at the animal, a string of drool hanging from his mouth. ‘He has gained a little weight, which probably is not helping matters.’

Oliver reached up and covered the dog’s enormous ears. ‘Stop. You know how deeply sensitive he is. His physique is appropriate for the breed.’

‘Which breed of elephant is that?’

Her brother tutted and withdrew his hands, and Sir Miles resumed panting. She watched Oliver rake hair back from his eyes. Many men she knew were cutting theirs shorter, and she had been wondering if she should tell him, but he was more concerned with ensuring he kept up with the latest clothing styles. On the rare occasion that they attended a dinner or social event, he always wanted descriptions of what the other men were wearing—so she left the topic of hair alone.

A soft whine from Sir Miles had her whipping her head around and Oliver listening intently. 

‘Carriage,’ he said.

Charlotte looked to the road in the distance, and sure enough, a carriage appeared through the trees a moment later. Her hands became clammy when she recognised it. ‘Ready for some uncomfortable family time?’

‘I gather from your tone that we are about to be honoured with a visit from our dear father.’

Charlotte was throwing her brushes into the canvas bag. ‘I am afraid so. Hopefully it will be a short-and-sweet visit—like always.’

A low growl premised a deep bark that had birds bursting from a nearby tree into the sky. Sir Miles was already on his feet, waiting for Oliver to join him. He would never abandon Oliver in the middle of a field in order to make a scene—he would wait so he had a full audience.

Charlotte took her brother’s arm, but he immediately withdrew it. 

‘I can manage.’

Oliver was always fiercely independent whenever their father came by. He would sooner fall down a flight of fifty stone steps than accept help from anyone. Though he was happy to take hold of Sir Miles’s collar in order to navigate the uneven muddy field back to the main path. He walked with his chin up and back straight, as though their father’s eyes were already upon him.

Lord Elis usually spent his days at court, advising the king. The recent murder of His Majesty’s brother had every lord in the country holding their breath. No one knew whether to brace for food shortages or war—or both.

It was raining by the time they reached the front of the house. The pair did not bother taking cover, instead waiting on the road for the carriage to roll to a stop. They watched the driver climb down and open the carriage door. 

Charlotte nearly fell over when Lord Wybert stepped out. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice at her face. How many years had it been since she had seen him? Six? Seven?

Wybert looked briefly around before his gaze landed on her. His eyes creased at the corners as he gave a polite bow. ‘Lady Charlotte. You are looking well.’

‘Oh shit,’ Oliver muttered upon registering the voice.

Seven years. That was how long it had been. She had been barely seventeen when he had promised her the world, then subsequently ruined her life. 

‘What are you doing here?’ She tried to hide the surprise but made no effort to hide the disdain.

Before he had a chance to respond, her father stepped down from the carriage, frowning the moment his eyes landed on her. ‘Goodness gracious. You look like a drowned kitten.’ 

Charlotte forced her attention away from Wybert and drew a sudden breath when she realised she had forgotten to breathe. ‘Father. Back from court so soon?’

The scowl on his face deepened. ‘Do not sound so disappointed.’

She was more disappointed at the company he was keeping.

‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ Oliver asked, keeping a firm hold of Sir Miles, whose deadly stare was fixed on Wybert.

Elis gestured to the house. ‘Let us take this inside before the pair of us end up looking like the two of you.’

The last person Charlotte wanted in her home was Lord Wybert. The man was a walking reminder of her youthful naivety and still evoked the same shame and anger despite the time that had passed. ‘I do not mind the rain. I am sure Lord Wybert is keen to be on his way.’

Ignoring the comment, her father strode towards the house, leaving the three of them standing there. When Wybert went to follow him, Sir Miles lowered his head and bared his teeth in warning. The duke stiffened. 

‘He was just a pup last time I saw him. Large for his breed, is he not?’ He looked between the siblings.

‘We have all grown up since you were last here, my lord.’ Charlotte glanced down at Sir Miles. ‘I would advise a slow walk to the door so he does not give chase.’

The faintest smile came and went on Wybert’s face. ‘You really have grown up.’ He side-eyed Sir Miles as he stepped past, then went into the house.

Charlotte and Oliver remained where they were.

‘Please tell me he is balding,’ Oliver said once they were alone. 

Charlotte stroked Sir Miles’s silky head. ‘I am afraid not. He has a lot of nerve coming here.’

‘Maybe he has changed his mind and wants to marry you after all.’

She looked at the door Wybert had just disappeared through. ‘I would sooner cut off my own head and throw it at him.’

‘I am not sure that is even possible.’ Oliver clicked his fingers to get the dog’s attention. ‘Inside.’

Sir Miles led the way. 

‘Is it weird that he is still unwed?’ her brother asked. ‘I hope it is not due to that vicious rumour of ongoing gonorrhoea that spread shortly after he broke your heart.’

‘You mean the one you started?’

Oliver’s mouth curled into a smile. ‘I may not be able to defend your honour with a sword, but I can spread misinformation like wildfire.’

Charlotte felt some of the tension drain from her body. ‘Let us go find out why he is here.’ She hesitated at the door. ‘If by some sick turn of events the topic of marriage does come up, I shall need you to grab Father’s sword and hold it steady so I can run into it.’

Oliver made a face as he let go of Sir Miles’s collar. ‘Dark but fair.’

They found their father and Wybert warming themselves by the fire in the main room. Charlotte considered going to change out of her wet clothes, then decided to let the water pool at her feet in hope that Wybert would slip on it on his way out. 

Elis waited for Oliver to reach Charlotte, but before he had a chance to speak, the kitchen maid entered the room. ‘Welcome home, my lord. Can I bring you some refreshments?’

Elis shook his head. ‘No, thank you.’

‘You can bring me a tray,’ Wybert said.

The maid glanced in Charlotte’s direction, as though seeking her approval. She might have been young, but she was old enough to understand loyalty. Charlotte nodded her approval.

‘We were very sorry to hear of the earl’s death,’ Oliver said. ‘He was a good man, by all accounts.’

Wybert’s expression turned sombre. ‘He certainly was. He will be sorely missed.’

‘I am surprised he agreed to go to Dinefwr Castle given its reputation,’ Charlotte said.

Her father met her gaze. ‘He went for all of us so England would not starve.’

She knew enough to know it was not only about the grain. Many Englishmen were making record profits with exports.

‘I am guessing no one has volunteered to fill that position,’ Oliver said.

Elis and Wybert exchanged a look that made Charlotte’s stomach drop. Whatever they were about to say, she knew she was not going to like it.

Her father rocked on his heels. ‘It is a privilege to help one’s king and country.’ He paused. ‘Which is why I have agreed to go to Dinefwr and oversee trade alongside Lord Wybert.’

Charlotte looked accusingly at Wybert, who stared back at her with a neutral expression.

‘You are going to Dinefwr?’ Oliver asked, head shaking as he wrestled with this new piece of information.

Elis cleared his throat. ‘We are all going.’

Charlotte blinked, then blinked again. ‘What?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Oliver said confidently. ‘I have zero interest in having my throat sliced open.’

Her father had the decency to appear uncomfortable delivering the news. ‘The thing is,’ he began, ‘your grandfather on your mother’s side was born at Dinefwr Castle. Your mother was a descendant of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, the last native Prince of Wales—’

‘We know our family tree, Father,’ Charlotte snapped. ‘Despite your best effort to erase it.’

‘That is not true.’

‘It most certainly is. Our Welsh blood has been a constant source of shame for you since Carmarthenshire fell into the hands of rebels.’

Colour rose in Elis’s cheeks. He was rarely lost for words, but he was visibly struggling with what to say next. He cleared his throat, not once but twice, before replying. ‘Technically, you are both Welsh royalty.’

Oliver laughed, then fell silent when no one else did. ‘Father, you cannot be serious. We were both born here in England and have never set foot in the region.’

‘Even if we had,’ Charlotte said, ‘why on earth would you want to drag us into this suicide mission?’

Wybert shook out one sleeve of his tunic before clasping his hands behind his back, always a picture of confidence. It had been a draw in her younger years, but now it made her want to gently push him into the flames of the fire.

‘It does not matter what you or I think,’ Wybert said. ‘It matters what the people of Carmarthenshire think.’

There was a spell of silence before Oliver cracked up laughing again. ‘There is a reason why Llywelyn has the words the last in his title—because he was the last Prince of Wales.’

Wybert was deadly serious now. ‘Carmarthenshire is a kingdom of peasants. They have an army that is being handheld by Chadora—and no nobility to lead them. They are lost.’

Oliver crossed his arms. ‘Well, this sounds like a job for a half-blood spinster and her blind brother.’ To Charlotte, he added, ‘No offence, sister. You know your determination to remain unwed is my favourite thing about you.’

She was barely listening, too busy glaring at her father. ‘You are overestimating the power of our mother’s bloodline.’

‘To the contrary,’ he replied. ‘Perhaps I am even guilty of playing it down. We all agree that, over time, the people of Carmarthenshire will come to accept you as royalty.’

‘Or kill us,’ Oliver said.

Elis closed his eyes. ‘Nobody is dying.’

Oliver tilted his head. ‘Can we have that in writing?’

Charlotte was desperately trying to process all the things being said. ‘What is it you expect us to do? Ride through villages with a royal wave and pray they do not shoot us with arrows while you run iron and grain in and out of Dinefwr Castle?’

‘They have no reason to trust us,’ Oliver said.

Elis looked between his two children. ‘King Edward has already signed the castle over to me. Dinefwr will go to Oliver when I pass and remain in Welsh hands.’

He was assuming their bloodline would continue, but both Charlotte and Oliver were happy to let it die.

‘So he is gifting us the castle his predecessors stole from us?’ Oliver said. ‘How generous.’

Wybert perked up at that. ‘I think the use of the word us demonstrates a shift in your thinking already.’

Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘Can we address the practicalities for a moment? In case you have forgotten, Oliver cannot see. He is blind and will struggle to navigate an unfamiliar environment.’ 

‘You will be there to assist him, as you always are,’ her father responded. ‘And you will both have bodyguards with you at all times.’

Oliver stiffened. ‘Bodyguards? For how long?’

‘Until we are confident that you are safe in your environment’ was Elis’s reply.

Charlotte glared at Wybert when she asked, ‘How did that work out for the previous occupants?’

He was unflustered by the question. ‘We will step up the protection. I took it upon myself to write to Chadora’s warden, and he has agreed to assist us.’

Of course Chadora decided to help. If there was a war, they would be forced to pick a side. ‘Assist us how?’

‘What better protection than a defender at your side?’ Wybert said. When no one spoke, he added, ‘It is only for a short time. I have no doubt the peasants will accept you. They are hardly in a position to be choosy.’

Charlotte angled her head. ‘And if they were?’

Wybert closed his mouth.

‘So we are to be puppets,’ Oliver said. ‘Shiny castle ornaments on display to the peasants.’

Elis’s mouth flattened into a thin line. ‘You will continue to live in complete comfort as you do here.’

Oliver’s brow creased. ‘I am far from comfortable at this moment.’

‘This is happening,’ their father said, losing patience. ‘If you have further questions, you can ask them on the journey. We will be leaving for Carmarthenshire in the morning.’ 

Charlotte’s mouth fell open. ‘So soon? Are we not even permitted a chance to say goodbye to our friends?’

Elis lowered his brows. ‘Which friends would they be?’

Charlotte’s cheeks heated.

‘I will have you know that Charlotte is rather close with the local seamstress in town,’ Oliver said.

Ignoring the comment, Elis pointed at the dog. ‘I think it best if that thing remains here at Livingston Manor.’

Charlotte was not having it. ‘Oliver is reliant on Sir Miles. Of course he has to come.’

‘He is aggressive.’

‘So is Charlotte,’ Oliver said, ‘yet you are insisting that she goes.’

Charlotte looked tiredly at her brother. ‘Thank you for that.’

‘Fine,’ Elis said, waving the argument away. ‘However, he is to be muzzled at all times.’

Charlotte replied before her brother could. ‘I swear before God, if you ask if I am to be muzzled too…’

Oliver feigned shock. ‘The mere suggestion has me weeping inwardly.’

Wybert clapped his hands together. ‘I am pleased that everyone is on board with this idea. I shall leave you to pack and see you all in the morning.’

A thought occurred to Charlotte in that moment. ‘Are you to live at Dinefwr Castle with us?’

An amused smile settled on his face. ‘Is that a problem?’

‘Yes,’ she answered plainly.

Elis shook his head and gestured to the front door. ‘I shall see you out.’

Wybert’s gaze remained fixed on Charlotte as he stepped away, the light in his eyes hinting at laughter. He was thoroughly enjoying the power trip.

The siblings remained silent until the footsteps could no longer be heard.

‘Does this mean we will be spending more time together as a family?’ Oliver whispered. ‘A few months locked in a castle with our father might see us begging to have our throats cut.’

Charlotte’s eyes sank shut, and she released a shaky breath. ‘Let us pray the wine cellar at Dinefwr Castle is adequately stocked.’

Coming September 15th, 2023. Pre-order here.