Chapter 1
Sunlight beat down on the courtyard stones, reflecting off of slashing swords and swaths of chainmail. Vi held her shoulders back and her gaze forward as she marched past the training field and to the Great Hall, where she’s to be stationed for the day.
The training field fell further and further behind her as she followed the smooth, uphill path to the foot of the castle’s main body. The guard on duty gave her a nod, which she returned, as they opened the side door for her to enter.
The massive corridor unfurled in both directions as she walked towards the tearoom. Guards were posted at various stations across the castle grounds depending on the time of day and the anticipated schedule of the royal family; in this case, a guardsman (today, her) was required at the tearoom because the king was anticipated to have tea in the early afternoon with a couple nobles.
Rich, savory aromas fill the air as Vi walked past the kitchens. At this time of day, they’re always preparing for the midday meal.
Multicolored rays of light dance across the floor as she crossed through a hallway lit by stained-glass windows. On the left, the tearoom branched off, a luminous pastel-yellow room decorated with dainty tables, intricate sets of porcelain cups and kettles, and indoor plants in every corner. Vi relieved the guardsman posted outside the room with a shared nod.
She took up position outside the door, squaring her shoulders back and staring intently at the wall directly across from her. Being a guard meant being very good friends with boredom, as the majority of her job consisted of doing exactly this: standing still, staring at nothing. No means of entertainment, not even listening to the royals (because all of their conversations made watching paint dry sound appealing).
An hour or so into her shift, a slight movement came into her field of vision. She didn’t move, according to protocol (during shifts, guardsmen only reacted in three situations: the first, being when a royal enters a room, during which they bow; the second, if they are addressed by a superior; the third, if there is a threat they must respond to).
“Guardsman Vanderson,” an accented voice greeted her.
Vi bowed at the hip, recognizing the voice. “Captain Grayson.” She rose to see the Captain in front of her, adorned in her typical uniform – dark blue fabric, patches indicating her rank on her sleeves and breastbone, criss-crossed black leather and patches of chain-mail over the shoulders, stomach, and back. Grayson offered a respectful dip of her head.
“We’re wanted in the throne room,” the Captain informed her. “Follow me.”
Vi obeyed, falling into step behind the Captain as her mind wandered curiously. The throne room? Why was she wanted there? It typically wasn’t in use except for special occasions, such as extravagant parties on holidays or hosting foreign dignitaries. But no events were scheduled for today, and it was downright impossible for something important to be happening without the guards being aware of it. They were always briefed on the events of each month, and expected to shoulder additional duties during such occasions.
Several twists and turns later, they approached a wide set of wooden double doors. No one was posted at the entrance, as the thone room wasn’t supposed to be in use today. Captain Grayson opened one of the doors and gestured for Vi to enter first. She did, keeping her footsteps light and cautious.
The captain walked through the doors behind her, shutting them with a clang. Vi registered that, across the cavernous and magnificent room, the queen sat regally on the throne. She wore a floor-length gown of forest-green drapes of fabric, rings glittering on her fingers as she swirled a glass of wine casually in one hand.
Vi immediately threw herself to her knees. “Your Majesty,” she said into the gleaming tile floor.
“Rise.” The queen’s voice washed over her like the tide.
She rose, her hands falling tightly to her sides, her chin tucked. The Captain directed both of them to walk forward until they stood before the dais.
“This is who you recommend so highly?” The queen asked Captain Grayson. She sounded merely curious, not accusatory.
“Yes, Your Highness,” the Captain responded. “She’s unmatched in close combat, particularly excelling with only her fists or simple handheld weapons, such as brass knuckles or a knife. Additionally, she’s one of the bravest guardsmen we have. She is consistently vigilant and never fails to notice a potential threat, even when not on active duty. She can be a bit headstrong at times, but that lends her to never shying away from conflict, should it be required.”
As Vi reeled from the unexpected praise, the queen crooked her finger. “Come closer, girl.”
It took Vi a moment to realize she was being addressed again, and she obediently walked toward the queen, keeping her head bowed.
“Closer.”
Again, she listened, until she stood only a hairsbreadth away from the foot of the throne itself.
A firm hand gripped her chin, guiding her to make eye contact with the queen against all instincts. Remarkably vivid blue eyes sternly assessed her, and she fought back a wince. She felt keenly like a rabbit pinned in the clutches of a fox.
“Tell me, young guardsman.” The queen cocked her head to one side. “Would you die for my daughter?”
“O-of course, Your Majesty,” Vi stammered as soon as the blunt question registered. “I would not hesitate to die for any member of the royal family.”
“I am not asking about myself, nor my husband,” the queen snapped, her hold on Vi’s chin tightening almost to the point of pain. “I am asking about my only child and heir.”
“I would give my life for Her Majesty the Princess without question,” Vi rushed to assure the queen. Rumors occasionally swirled around about the queen having difficulty conceiving a child, of Princess Caitlyn being a miracle baby of sorts that couldn’t be replicated since, leaving her the sole heir to the crown. Was that where this was coming from? Did the queen and the Captain want to ensure her loyalty to the crown and the princess? Had something happened for them to question her capabilities? Anxiety tore through her.
The queen considered her answer. “Do you swear,” she said, slowly, “that you are the very best person in this castle to protect my daughter? That you will not shy away from any danger, no matter how great, in order to defend her life and well-being? Do you swear to treat her as though she is your own beating heart outside of your body?”
“I swear it, Your Highness.” Vi maintained eye contact as she spoke, unflinching, no matter how much she wanted to hide from that scrutinizing gaze of the monarch that could order her execution in a single breath should she desire it. She added, for dramatic effect, “I swear it on my mother’s grave.” Mother’s, she had found in the past, gave her more sympathy and credibility than parents’. Topsiders as young as her almost never had two dead parents. Having one deceased parent was uncommon, but not unusual enough to invite suspicion like two did.
The queen released her grip, and Vi immediately averted her gaze and straightened her shoulders and spine.
“She will do,” the queen told Captain Grayson, before abruptly standing, descending down the dais and leaving the room.
Once she had left, the Captain turned to her. “You are to be the princess’ personal guard,” Captain Grayson informed her.
And Vi’s brain short-circuited. In a highly unprofessional move, she simply blurted, “What?”
Luckily, sympathy filled Grayson’s expression. “I know this role carries a significant responsibility, and that it might be… unexpected. But I wouldn’t have recommended you for the position if I didn’t have the utmost faith in your ability to handle it.”
Her mind whirled. The personal guard for the princess? She knew she could run laps around each of the other guards when it came to fist-fighting (a side effect of growing up in the undercity, something none of the other guards had going for them), and was excellent with a sword or staff, but she hadn’t realized that the Captain thought of her so highly.
“You’ll start first thing after lunch,” Captain Grayson told her. “I believe the princess has a meeting with Professor Salo in the lecture room at one-thirty. Stand sentry outside of the room, and then you’ll tail her wherever she goes. In the evening, you’ll retire and another guardsman will stand outside her quarters during the night.”
“Yes, Captain.” Hastily, she remembered to bow at the waist. “I – I won’t let you down,” she stammered, still reeling from the new development and the conversation with the queen.
“I know you won’t,” the Captain assured her. “Now, go get something to eat.”
The dining hall – a separate hall, of course, from where the royalty dined, and from where dignitaries and nobles dined when they visited – clamored with loud voices and clinking tableware. This place served the staff for the entire castle, from the butlers and physicians to the blacksmiths and guards, and everything in-between.
Now that Vi had chewed over the idea of her new position a little more, unhappiness grew in her chest. At least when she stood sentry or patrolled with other guards, she was around friends and companions. Now, she’d be constantly attending to a spoiled royal, subject to her whims rather than the orders of the level-headed, intelligent Captain. Vi had never spoken directly to the princess, of course, but she was obviously the same as all the other royals: which was to say she was a brat that never cared about anything other than herself. The only upside to Vi’s situation was that there was no doubt the princess was too vain to even care to notice Vi. Perhaps they’d coexist relatively peacefully, so long as the princess ignored her for her princessly duties, and left her alone to do her job.
Vi selected a tray and filled it with bean and beef stew, buttered bread, and grilled vegetables in a sweet cashew sauce. Occasionally, when they were lucky, they’d get the leftovers from the lavish spreads prepared for the royal family and any visiting nobles. But even the food made just for them was otherworldly.
“Over here, Vi!”
Vi walked over to the table with her friends – Loris and Steb sat on one side, and she sat down on the other.
“Where’s Maddie?” Vi asked as she tore apart a piece of bread, dipping it into the rich broth.
“On the clock,” Steb answered.
“Hmm.” She bit into the bread and felt her eyes practically roll back in her head. She caught her lip in-between her teeth to avoid outright moaning at the taste. The bread was deliciously soft and fluffed, and the broth soaked in it had been spiced to absolute perfection. Given her undercity roots, she had a keen appreciation for good food that no one else here seemed to; she’d grown up without easy access to food – let alone good food – and no matter how long she lived on the castle grounds, the food was the one thing that never became old.
“We thought you were, too.” Loris glanced at Vi questioningly.
“Yeah, well. I have news,” she said regretfully, toying with her spoon to avoid looking at her fellow guardsmen. She was closest to Loris, Steb, and Maddie, and even bunked with Loris in the guards’ chambers (Steb and Maddie shared their neighboring bunk).
“Do tell,” Steb drawled.
She cracked a small grin, unable to help it despite her predicament. “Well, apparently I’ve been promoted to the princess’ personal guard.”
Silence. Vi tilted her head up, studying her friends, and–
“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Steb deadpanned. Loris rolled his eyes at her, and Steb went right back to eating. Clearly, neither of them believed her, and thought it to be some poor joke.
“I’m not kidding.” Vi lowered her spoon with a frown. “Believe me, I wish I was. You think I want to be assigned to that insufferable, spoiled–”
“Hush!” Loris scolded, glancing left and right. “Careful, Vi, you can’t just say those things.”
She rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows it’s true.”
Loris shrugged, going back to his soup.
Meanwhile, Steb’s eyes widened. “You’re not joking? You’re really going to be a personal guard for the princess?”
“Unfortunately,” she sulked.
“Huh.” Steb shook his head in disbelief. “I guess Cap notices that you beat all of us in sparring.” Vi did beat everyone in sparring; to her, that wasn’t so much a point of pride as it was a fact of her existence. She fought like her life was on the line every time, because in the undercity it so often was. Her lifetime of experience mixed with the raw desire for survival created something quite dangerous that none of the other guardsmen seemed to have – at least, not like she did.
“Good thing she doesn’t listen to conversations in the dining hall,” Loris grumbled.
Vi waved away their comments with a hand. “I’m not concerned with why she chose me! I’m worried about what it means for me. I like this job as is–” (like was a generous term; true, she enjoyed sparring and her friends, but otherwise it was nauseatingly boring and if not for the substantial salary, she would never have become a guardsman) – “and I don’t want it to change. I’ll probably see you all less. I don’t know when or where I’ll take my meals, or if I’ll attend sparring practice. I won’t go on shifts with y’all anymore.” Her throat constricted at the prospect of losing one of the few things that made her job tolerable, even pleasant on good days.
“It won’t be that bad,” Loris chimed in. “I’m sure it comes with advantages. They’ll probably up your salary.”
Vi only grunted in response.
“Yeah,” Steb agreed. “Maybe you’ll get more vacation time, or, uh… be able to attend classified meetings. Or maybe you’ll get your own horse. Or something!”
Vi stuffed a huge chunk of bread in her mouth to avoid having to respond to Steb’s obvious struggle to identify positives to her new position. (Besides, she didn’t want a horse. She didn’t like horses, and the feeling was mutual, and that was that. She’d become a guardsman and not a knight for a reason).
Loris finished his meal and stood. He walked over to Vi’s side of the table and clapped her on the back. “It’ll be okay,” he said in that kind, reassuring way of his. Normally that helped, but today, she felt faraway and resistant to comfort. She wanted someone to commiserate with, she realized, rather than reassurance. “You’ll do a great job. I’m sure we’ll see you soon, alright? We’ll let Maddie know.”
“Mm-hmmph,” Vi said around the bread. Steb also stood, and he saluted Vi as he and Loris walked away together.
Vi finally swallowed the hunk of bread. She suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore, but being from a background of scarcity, one never skipped a meal when it was available, so she chugged down the remainder of the soup, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and set her tray in a nearby dirty bin.
She knew her friends were well-intentioned in trying to comfort her. She really did adore her friends, and enjoyed her time with them, but sometimes she felt like they didn’t understand her. Whether that be due to a difference in background or something else, she didn’t know.
Not for the first time in Vi’s lengthy career, she felt an acute ache in her chest as she thought of the only thing she really wanted right now. Powder always knew exactly what Vi felt and needed at any given time, and she gave some of the best hugs in the world.
She did her best to shake off the feeling of missing her sister. Thoughts of her family rarely served to do anything more than make her unnecessarily sad – an emotion that did nothing to change her reality and only made the separation harder to endure.
Vi strode out of the dining hall, down several hallways and sets of stairs, until she stepped outside into the daylight. According to the clock tower, she still had some time to burn before going to the lecture hall, so she headed in the direction of her favorite place in the castle grounds (second only to the dining hall): the sparring ring.
Caitlyn bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper as she listened to yet another unrelated tangent from Professor Hoskel. He’s technically meant to tutor her on history and the intricacies of international trade, but he spends far more time complaining about the shortcomings of his wine trading business. Today, he’s whining about the latest shipment that sold for less than expected.
“Truly, the Noxians wouldn’t know good wine if it slapped them across the face! This is the third shipment in a row they’ve severely undervalued. I tell you, never trust the judgment of–”
“This is all well and good, Professor Hoskel, but…” Caitlyn pretended to check the bell tower she could see from the window – “I’m on track to be late to afternoon tea with my mother. And you do know how she gets, don’t you?” Caitlyn blinked at him innocently.
Professor Hoskel’s face reddened as it always did when he was frustrated. He seemed to know it when she lied about having other obligations to attend to, but he couldn’t very well protest against her afternoon tea with the queen.
“Very well,” he bit out. “I will see you tomorrow at the same time, Your Majesty. Don’t forget to complete your assigned readings.”
All of his assigned readings were Hoskel’s own work, of course. And it was always an ungodly amount of pages. She didn’t even know how he found the time to write it all.
Caitlyn dipped her head in light acknowledgment before rising and leaving, sweeping out of the room. She had no engagements with her mother, or with anyone for that matter, until one-thirty and she had no intention of sequestering the small period of free time. She squirreled away to the library, tucking herself into the chair in her favorite little corner. She had a stack of novels hidden behind this chair (to save the time of retrieving them from their assigned shelves every time) that often caused the head librarian to lament about missing books. She plucked the top one off the pile and resumed where she’d left off.
It didn’t take long for a voice to call out her name. “Caitlyn!”
She drew the book closed with a heavy sigh. “Yes, Mother?”
Cassandra Kiramman, the Queen of Piltover, strode into the corner of the library. “What are you doing, hidden away up here? No one was in the lecture hall, so I checked for you in your room and the kitchens, but you weren’t there either.”
As if on cue, her stomach rumbled, reminding her that lunchtime had passed and she hadn’t done anything about it.
“Come and eat lunch with me,” her mother commanded.
Caitlyn closed the book with a soft sigh, slipping it back into the hidden valley between the chair and wall. Until I return, she thought wistfully. “Yes, Mother.”
She trailed her mother out of the library and through the castle until they reached the dining hall. They had a large formal dining hall for events, but for just them, they ate in a smaller room with mosaic-windows facing the sun, depicting various scenes of nature, from frozen lakes and snow-capped mountains to grand forests with singing birds, leaping deer, and blooming fauna.
Her mother spoke to a servant, who then brought out trays of steaming Ionian dishes, from pulled pork dumplings to fried tofu bathed in tangerine sauce to coconut-broth vegetable soup.
As they ate, Caitlyn side-eyed her mother, waiting. She clearly had something she wanted to say, but she couldn’t very well tell the queen to spit it out, irregardless of their relationship.
Finally, her mother spoke. “I am aware that you might not be the… most pleased with this development, but…”
Oh no.
“With the increasing political unrest, your father and I have decided it is appropriate to appoint you a personal guard to ensure your safety at all times.”
Oh no. Caitlyn fought a grimace. “Don’t I already have one?”
“A guard for within the castle walls, as well,” her mother amended.
Caitlyn couldn’t suppress her groan in time. “Mother!” Her grip on her fork tightened. “Guards already constantly patrol the castle grounds and stand sentry everywhere I frequent, and a minimum of two guards tail me should I so much as set foot outdoors, even to simply practice archery or visit the stables. Is more really necessary?”
Her mother’s sternly angled jaw ticked as she studied her daughter. “You must understand. I know you’re not thrilled, but your safety takes priority. We considered many options and decided this would be the best for all parties.”
Caitlyn exhaled in frustration. “But what of my freedom? I’m not a child. I don’t want someone tailing me everywhere I go, at all hours of the day.”
She knew she’d lost the argument as soon as her mother threw her fist down against the table. “Caitlyn! This is not a request. Captain Grayson has already selected your personal guard, and I have met and approved of her choice. Your father and I are deeply concerned given the recent uptick of riots in the city and attempted attacks on the castle. I understand you might not like it, but you need someone to protect you, should it come to that.”
Caitlyn took a deep, deliberate breath. She could feel what little independence she still had rapidly fading, and she hated it with every cell in her body. But she knew as well as anyone that fighting against a decree from the queen was futile.
“Yes, Mother,” she muttered under her breath.