Valiant (4 page)

So be it
.

“I think …” My throat was so pinched that my words cracked. “I think since I can’t afford to make a mistake, I should call you Tailor. Always. It will be easier that way.”

He blinked.
Yes
.

“Good night to you, then, Tailor.”

I would never call him Father again.

I
left the shop
the next morning with a satchel full of swatches and string for measuring the king. The king! Anything would be possible if I earned a commission from him. Father would see.

And if I failed? If I was discovered?

I tried not to think about it, but tasted fear like metal in my mouth as I walked uphill to the castle. The streets passed in a smear of stone doorways and windows—everything in this awful city was stone.

Finally, I stopped at the palace’s gate, high above the rest of Reggen. The cliffs behind the castle filled my vision, broad as the sky. And the Guardians? They filled the cliffs on either side of the castle, their stone eyes looking out to the east and west as if watching for invaders.

They were the one bit of stone that I didn’t mind. Looking up at them was like watching a storm gather itself and roll toward me. I’d never felt tinier, but I didn’t mind so long as I could keep looking.

I pulled the satchel close and walked through the gate into the castle courtyard. It was a hive of activity, with rivers of people flowing to and from their work. I watched until it
became familiar to me. Only nobles came and went through a door protected by two of the castle guard.

How could a tailor’s apprentice reach the king?

Then a workman gave a package to a noble, who carried it through the guarded door.

That’s what I should do
.

But who would carry my gift? A lady might notice the girl beneath the apprentice’s clothes. But the nobleman with the purple coat and lace cuffs? He’d only see the value of a good velvet.

I approached him and bowed. “Please, kind sir. Will you take a tribute to the king for me?”

He sniffed as if he’d smelled something rotten and walked away.

I scurried after him. “He’ll reward you! It’s a gift finer than anything he has seen.”

The nobleman stopped. “Why don’t you take the tribute yourself?”

Stupid, stupid!
I’d been too eager. I drew myself up. “My master, the Tailor of Reggen, wishes that his noblest fabric be sewn for the king himself.” I pulled a swatch of the indigo velvet from my bag. For the first time, I relished the way sunlight tangled itself in the fabric. “This will be invitation enough once the king sees it.”

The noble looked closer, eyes narrowed. I had him. “Where did you get this?”

“It belongs to the Tailor. Please, take it to the king. He will be as impressed as you have been.”

The man tore his gaze away from the velvet to scowl at me. “A bold claim, for one who can’t yet manage a beard!”

I flushed but would not back down. “I don’t need a beard to sew for the king”—I looked the nobleman up and down—“or to tell that your tailor worked
very
hard to hide your narrow shoulders. Next time you need a coat, you should come to my master.”

I held my breath, worried I’d gone too far. Then the man burst into a high, braying laugh.

“Now I believe you! Why are all tailors so outspoken?” He held out his hand. “I’ll take this to the king. Who sends it?”

I gave him the velvet. “The apprentice to the Tailor of Reggen. But if you want the king’s good favor, tell him you discovered me yourself.”

The nobleman laughed again. “Well thought, lad!” Then he disappeared beyond the gate.

An hour later, a page arrived to fetch me. He led me through wide, sunlit corridors to King Eldin’s suite.

“Through this door,” he said.

I gulped and nodded—and promptly collided with a dark-haired man. In the sea of foreign faces, his was familiar. I knew him.…

Fine Coat
.

Sky above, it was Fine Coat.

I ducked my head. He might remember the girl who told
him not to talk so loud, who hated his stories of crushed houses and boiled bones.

“I beg your pardon, my lord! I wasn’t watching.…” I didn’t dare meet his eyes.

He shifted his weight once, twice. “Don’t worry yourself.”

And then he was gone, taking whatever courage I’d possessed with him. This wouldn’t work. The king would see. He’d know. I couldn’t—

“Your Majesty, I present the Tailor of Reggen!”

A hand flat against my back pushed me forward. I took two great, stumbling steps, and looked up into the eyes of Reggen’s king.

T
he king was
furious. He sat behind an ornate desk at the far side his suite and glared at … an older man who stood beside me.

He swept me a disdainful glance, then turned to the king. “Now is not the time for new clothes, Your Majesty!”

Sky above, I’d walked into an argument. I looked around the king’s quarters. The noblemen wore the carefully neutral expressions of those determined not to notice what happened right under their noses.

Then I saw that the king held the swatch.

Look down
, I thought.
Look at the velvet
.

The king merely twisted the cloth in his hands. “Why am I expected to send soldiers because Verras found a man who jabbered about
monsters
?”

Monsters
 … for a moment, I was back on the road to Reggen. I could feel the young man’s hand on my wrist as he lay in the wagon, whispering about monsters and the man he couldn’t best. Surely, the king spoke of someone else.…

The old man’s reply pulled me from memories. “He was the only witness to the attacks, King Eldin.”

“Witness?” jeered one of the king’s guards. “He was delirious! And now he’s dead.”

No
. It couldn’t be that poor man. I needed to think he’d found some refuge from the fear that haunted him.

And who would make such heartless jests? Or dare speak to a noble so? The guard wasn’t much older than the king, but he was as insolent as an eldest son, sure of his father’s inheritance. His grin widened when the king laughed.

“Your Majesty!” barked the old man.

The young king hunched his shoulders like a child unwilling to give up his toy. “This whole discussion of armies and monsters from the north is tiresome, Lord Cinnan! There’s no need to send scouts.” The king waved a hand. “Even if an army was approaching, they couldn’t cross the River Kriva and breach our walls.”

Finally, the king looked down at the velvet in his hands. He ran a finger over it, the color shifting beneath his touch. And then—at last—he looked up at me.

All thought of monsters and armies fled. The king held my future in his hands.

This is bread, a way to live
, I told myself as I bowed low.
You can’t afford to be afraid
.

I straightened from my bow, tall and proud, the way tailors stand. I knew the king would want a coat sewn from the indigo velvet.

King Eldin studied me. “You’re a tailor? You don’t look old enough.”

I can make you look like a man
. I wore the thought like a fine coat. “I am his apprentice, Your Majesty.”

The king’s mouth drooped into a pout. “Why doesn’t he come himself?”

My future depended on the perfect reply. When my gaze dropped to the velvet, I knew what to say.

I stepped forward and lowered my voice as if sharing a secret. “Your Majesty, he sent the thing he valued most.”

The king laughed. “You?”

“No.” My confidence filled the room. I spoke the truth, after all. “He sent his fabric. It’s like a child to him.”

The answer disarmed the king, and I pressed my advantage. “The Tailor requests the honor of making a coat for you. Will you give him that great pleasure?”

Lord Cinnan glared at me. “He requires no payment for
so great
a service?” He turned to the king. “Your Majesty, there is no time for this! Yet another village, Alma, was razed. We have no idea who is behind these attacks, only that they are drawing closer to Reggen—”

If I had met the man in any other place, I would have liked him. He reminded me of Luca; he had the same sort of eyes. But I couldn’t let him distract the king. If I left without a commission, I might never have another chance.

“The Tailor does not require payment
now
,” I announced.

Lord Cinnan looked ready to send me away but I hurried on. “The Tailor asks that you allow him to create a coat for you, Your Majesty. He’ll entrust you with the fabric he values
most. You won’t have to pay until you have worn the coat and found it worthy.”

I stepped forward again without the king’s permission, though I kept my head tipped deferentially to hide my face. “May I observe the fit of your coat, sire? I see that it pulls across the back. Does it make it difficult to move your arms?”

The king blinked in surprise. I grew bolder, stepped behind him, and placed a single finger between his shoulder blades. “Here, I think. It must not be very comfortable.”

He half turned, and I yanked my finger away and bowed. “I apologize. I meant no disrespect.”

“You’re
good
,” he said.

“That’s why the Tailor sent me.” I wanted to press for a fitting but resisted. Not yet. Speaking might break the spell.

Lord Cinnan was not so wise. “Your Majesty, please! Send a few men. Lord Verras is concerned. Perhaps if you read his reports—”

“He is wearisome!” snapped the king. “And his reports bore me. Read them yourself and tell me what you think tomorrow.”

Lord Cinnan stood there, reproach in his eyes.

“Leave!” shouted the king.

Lord Cinnan did as commanded—with a look that made King Eldin flush.

A stifling silence filled the suite. Finally, the king motioned to the insolent guard. “I am finished with audiences today, Leymonn. Send them away.”

“A wise request, Your Majesty,” he murmured.

“Only you understand the burden of the throne!” the king whispered.

Leymonn bowed, then called out, “His Majesty calls this audience to an end! He wishes to be left alone!”

The nobles streamed out. After a moment, the king, his guards, and I were alone in his suite.

“Good riddance to them all!” exclaimed King Eldin. He grinned as if he had won a battle against a great opponent. “Lord Cinnan is tiresome, and he gets angry when I am not as dull as he is.”

I could see how soft the king’s arms were. I had felt his doughy back. King Eldin couldn’t win a battle against a blindfolded squire. Still, I answered as if he was a great ruler.

“I hope you will not find
this
tiresome, Your Majesty: I must measure you for the coat.”

“Of course. I should very much like clothing that—” He paused, and I saw he was unwilling to admit that his figure needed assistance.

I swallowed my irritation. “Clothing that matches your royal dignity?”

“Yes! You understand me perfectly.” He peered at me. “Are you sure you are capable? How old are you, apprentice?”

“I am—” I was seventeen, but I didn’t look like a seventeen-year-old lad. “I am nearly sixteen, Your Majesty.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

That is the least difficult thing I need you to believe
, I
thought. Then I had a flash of memory. I tilted my head and ran my fingers over my jaw, the way Father used to when he had finished shaving.

“It isn’t hard to believe, Your Majesty. My beard’s coming in. It won’t be long now.”

The king laughed so long that I decided I truly disliked the man-child. I ducked my head as if embarrassed and, when he stopped laughing, mumbled, “You have to look close, that’s all. You can see it then.”

The king was still chuckling when I left an hour later.

Weary as I was, my heart wouldn’t slow as I walked back to the shop. I was certain someone would discover that a girl had masqueraded as the Tailor’s apprentice. The moment I entered the shop, I untied the cravat with trembling fingers, tugged it loose, and flung it onto one of the tables.