#the shadow guards

[carterashsart]

Sketchbook sketch for concept art of a book I’m writing

[the-shadow-guards]

34. Or 52. for Miss Ava (or for whoever you would like!!) for the writing prompts?

HOW ABOUT BOTH

34. “Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?”

She was hesitant to knock on the door, but Lady Temple had said he wanted to speak to her. She could just pretend that she’d forgotten, and Eleanor and she could leave for King’s City before the weather worsened.

But her conscience wouldn’t allow it. And leaving before addressing the unspoken would just make a larger mess of things. It would be best to simply get it over with and not drag it out awkwardly.

Ava knocked smartly and waited.

It was already scandalous for her to be in his private sitting room. A young woman in his mother’s employ, unchaperoned and not family. Had the situation been any alternative, she would not entertain his request.

“You can enter, I’m decent!” he yelled through the door.

And Ava opened the door, every fiber in her body refusing to step over the threshold into a Lord’s bedroom.

What she could see was an absolute disaster. Clothing, probably dirty, was strewn into piles. More was on an armchair, accompanied by what appeared to be his Guards cloak. Books were haphazardly stacked in the corners, on his desk, and there was even more books sticking out of the blankets at the food of his bed.

Also at the foot of his bed was a pile of pillows keeping his broken leg elevated.

Ava noticed that his sock had a hole in the heel.

But with the angle of his bed and the door, she couldn’t see his face. And he couldn’t simply get up and walk around.

“El?” Lord Jacob called out. “El, stop hovering there and tell your damned governess that I would like a word.”

She would have to enter his bedroom. Ava gathered herself, promised herself this would be the one and only time she’d be in a Lord’s bedroom, and stepped around the door and into the view of the bedroom’s owner.

Lord Jacob looked as though he was already tired of being bedridden after less than a day with a broken leg. He also looked thoroughly haggard but had put in an attempt to comb his hair. A small condolence was that he wasn’t drunk anymore. “Ah. You’re not El.”

“You asked for me?” Ava didn’t wish to waste time on stating the obvious.

“Ah.”

She pursed her lips. “I presume this is about yesterday’s....” She paused, searching for the right word. “Declaration?”

Lord Jacob shifted in bed, pulling up the blanket like a shield between the two of them, revealing the extensive bandages spiraling up his leg and the wooden robs holding it straight. “Uh...”

Ava tore her eyes away from the injury. She didn’t need to image how horrible it must have been for Eleanor to see it break. 

He was looking at her. It wasn’t that annoyed glare she usually received. Lord Jacob opened and shut his mouth,

She stayed silent. He’d wanted to speak with her, and while she knew what the topic most likely was, she was not going to initiate the conversation.

“I-” He faltered. “Those things you said yesterday... Did you mean them?”

There was no gentle way to do this. “Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

Color was creeping into his cheeks. Whether embarrassment or something else, she didn’t wish to know.

Ava looked away first. “I don’t believe I should recount the details. But you must understand how inappropriate it would be.” There, the worst was over with. She glanced back to see his reaction.

He was nodding at his elevated foot as if he was determined to memorize the knitted pattern. “Very well. I understand.” A mournful smile flirted across his face. “I would hate to cause the gossip Mother listens to.”

She stepped back towards the door. Towards the end of the awkward conversation. Her hand was on the door knob.

“Stay warm on the way to King’s City. Make sure Ellie keeps up on her training, I’ve posted letters to Guards there who can work with her. You know enough to supervise.” Lord Jacob gave her a little half-hearted wave.

Ava returned the wave and stepped out of his bedroom, firmly shutting the door. She leaned against it for a beat to compose herself.

This was not the first time she’d had this conversation with men, nor Lords, but this was the singular time that the interested party still retained his respect for her nor tried to wheedle her opinion to something different.

She straightened her jacket and left his sitting room.

Eleanor was at the end of it, silhouetted against the frosted window. Snow was steadily falling.

Ava cleared her throat. “We ought to leave soon.” She needed to leave soon. A week’s worth of travel would put Lord Jacob’s feelings out of mind. It would give him space and time to think. “Do you have something for the carriage?”

Eleanor sighed. “Oh, yes, I’ve got so many exciting things, like cross-stitch and books of manners and dancing diagrams.” She turned from the window, expression sardonic. “It’s going to be miserable, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

52.“Oh, gosh, you’ve insulted me! What ever shall I do? I’ll be mentally and emotionally scared for years!”

Ellie decided that Miss Ava’s lessons on manners were slightly more interesting when there was a second student. Especially when the other student was Vincent and the lesson was about proper conversation during tea.

Miss Ava had them sitting across from each other at a little tea table set up in the greenhouse. Had it been any season but winter, it would been lovely. But everything was coated in ice and snow and the greenhouse was barely warm enough to not need a cloak.

The Temple Manor in King’s City lacked the charm of Mrs. Temple’s manor in Caster. Everything was stiffer, the manor was tall and narrow, and the shrubs still alive in the greenhouse were meticulously groomed to be spheres. Nothing involving the natural part of nature was encourage. There was a study little weed growing between two bricks. Ellie was counting how many days it went before it was noticed. So far it was four days.

Miss Ava was perched on a chair, supervising them and the rapidly cooling tea.

Vincent looked utterly resigned to his afternoon being spent remembering his manners. He’s said exactly three words, her name, and a thank-you to Miss Ava after she’d poured the tea,

He’d also been chided for not pulling out Ellie’s chair for her.

Vincent’s response hadn’t encouraged Miss Ava to put faith in him.

Ellie wanted to take another cookie and cut it open just to scoop out the lemon curd in the center. Instead she straightened her teaspoon and napkin. Across from her, Vincent was scowling into his tea as if glaring at it could warm it up.

Miss Ava sighed. “Are you two this quiet when training with the Guards?”

Ellie shrugged.

Vincent’s glare slid from his teacup to the governess. 

“Well, you both ought to practice proper conversation. Even,” she continued to Vincent, “if it’s just for Eleanor’s benefit.”

Ellie sipped her lukewarm tea. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine.” Vincent nudged his teacup away from him. “I would like to state for the benefit of your governess that when one sends an invitation for Guard training, tea with forced conversation is not what anyone is looking forward to.”

Miss Ava looked like she’d eaten something sour. 

Her tea was disgusting. Ellie set it back down. “Yes, I’m aware. Sword practice with your master would be better. Even against you.”

“Such a charming compliment.”

Ellie knew her smile wasn’t exactly kind. “Would you rather be having tea with Duncan Caldwell?”

Vincent’s glare could have melted the ice caked on the glass panes. “I would rather drink poison.”

“Vincent,” snapped Miss Ava. “Poison is not an acceptable topic for polite conversation.”

He leaned back in his chair, irritated. “Fine. Eleanor, are you liking the weather?”

Ellie kept her expression cool. “It’s nearly as frigid as your personality. And how are you finding the weather?”

His glower deepened. “How is that considered acceptable when she’s insulting me?”

Ellie protested before Miss Ava could answer. “You insult my knowledge at every opportunity you get.” She leaned in. “If you listen closely you can hear nobody caring.”

“That’s not fair, I apologize for that!”

“After I gave you a black eye!”

“Eleanor!” Miss Ava interrupted them both. “You gave him a black eye?”

“I deserved it,” Vincent explained, not looking away from Ellie.

She nodded in agreement and decided that with the direction of the conversation, paying attention to her table manners was not going to be one of Miss Ava’s focuses. Ellie delicately slipped a lemon curd cookie onto her plate. “Vincent made a comment about farmgirls and their supposed talents.”

He flushed. “You’re making it sounds worse than it was.”

“Anthony would agree with me.”

“Anthony is not here,” Vincent added. 

Ellie discreetly cracked open her cookie. “He would agree with me.”

Vincent sucked in a breath. “You claim to know my closest friend better than me? Oh, stars, you’ve insulted me! What ever shall I do? I’ll be mentally and emotionally scared for years!” He slunk ever further into his chair.

Miss Ava simply stared at him, at a loss for words. It was clear she hadn’t figured out what sort of person Vincent was.

Ellie scooped out the lemon curd. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Vincent.” 

“Nor you.” He reached across the table and helped himself to the curd-less cookie. “And I am finding this tea has become an exercise in futility.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” Ellie sucked the lemon curd off her spoon and turned her attention to Miss Ava. “Might we go spar now? Master Jacob’s coming in a couple weeks once his leg is done healing and if he sees that I’ve lost progress, he won’t be pleased.”

Vincent broke the cardinal rule of table manners and put his elbow on the table. “Yes, might we go spar, Miss Tremain? It would be nice to learn something worth retaining this afternoon.”

Miss Ava looked between the pair of them. “Yes, I suppose so. I thought Jacob hadn’t been serious when he said you two didn’t get along.”

“Oh, no,” Vincent stretched out the words. “We’re the greatest of friends.”

“Precisely.” Ellie said sweetly. “The greatest of friends. And we’re going to go practice throwing knives at each other once Master Masonwell arrives.”

[carterashsart]

Apprentice Ellie Temple, a Royal Elite Guard in-training

[the-shadow-guards]

More than a Name

Ellie snuck into the stables, making sure no one in the great manor house saw her, and smeared oil onto Butter’s stall door hinges and lock. Last thing she needed was a stableboy hearing squeaks and come running to find some stranger in dark clothes stealing one of Lord Temple’s racehorses.

Even if it was really her own horse she was stealing.

Satisfied that the hinges wouldn’t squeak, Ellie eased the bolt back and winced at the click.

No one came. Not even Midnight looked over to see if inspecting the sound would result in a treat.

Perfect.

She babied the door open, an inch at a time. It was a rather heavy door, and Ellie decided that she hated it. And hated that her gloves couldn’t get a good grip on the oily bits. It was bloody awful. But patience now would pay off.

Butter got curious and looked out to see what she was doing.

Ellie offered her horse a grim smile and finally got the darned door open far enough to slip inside. And promptly said a word that she knew she shouldn’t say. “Damn.”

Mrs. Temple looked very out-of-place in her finery, and severely bothered. Her frown deepened with the curse word. “Young lady, you are in very grave trouble.”

Butter was right there, but Mrs. Temple would get partially trampled if Ellie just took her horse and ran

Damn, damn, damn. I need to go warn them!

So Ellie matched Mrs. Temple’s frown. “We’ll all be in bigger trouble if I don’t warn Master Jacob and the council.”

Mrs. Temple’s eyes flashed with frustration. “We’ve discussed this multiple times. You’re seeing things that aren’t there. He said he would mention it to the council-”

“Just to keep me from buggin’ him ‘bout it!”

“Accent!” Mrs. Temple’s volume remained quiet, but her voice sliced through Ellie. “No one else but you seems to think there’s going to be any upstarts at all, let alone tonight. Your Uncle Jacob might have found parts of a conspiracy, and you’re seeing connections that you want to be true.” Her tone softened. “Ellie, we’ve all thought that at one time or another, but others kept us from making a fool of ourselves.”

This isn’t that. I know what he told me, and told me because who’d believe some chicken-legged apprentice like me?

But she had to play along. Ellie opened her mouth slightly, like when Anthony tried to read his own writing. “You... really think so?”

“Yes,” stressed Mrs. Temple. “And I’ve hidden Butter’s saddle and tack. So you aren’t going anywhere. I’m trying to help you.” She batted a portion of hay out of her way with her cane. “Come on, back to the house.” Her silk dress trailed bit of hay with her as she gracefully exited the stall.

Ellie didn’t budge.

Mrs. Temple looked back at her and read her expression. “Eleanor. If I lose my patience, and I am very near loosing it, you will have consequences to answer for.”

Ellie couldn’t help herself. She hated ultimatums. It was how she was even in this situation to begin with. “Like what kind of consequences?”

Her nostrils flared spectacularly. “Eleanor Temple, come with me right now!” Mrs, Temple hadn’t had a child disobey her in decades, Ellie decided. And Ellie was obviously a child in Mrs. Temple’s eyes.

But Ellie had lots of practice of being disobeyed by a child and so she invoked Mattie’s favorite way of pissing her ofqf. “I’m not Eleanor Temple.”

Perhaps it was old age. Or that Mrs. Temple never quite found out what Ellie did before she was brought into the Guards. But she looked positively furious, knuckles white on her cane, as she whispered through her teeth, “yes, you are.”

“No, I’m also Ellie Matthews.” Ellie beamed at Mrs. Temple, since she was now out of the way of Butter. “Ellie Matthews the farmgirl. I don’t need a saddle or nothing to ride.”

“No, I’m not Mattie Matthews! I’m Madeline Matthews!”

And with that declaration, Ellie hauled herself up onto her horse and walloped Butter’s rump. Butter took off, and Ellie’s last glance behind her at Mrs. Temple was a thunderous expression.

[carterashsart]

some concept art

[carterashsart]

[the-shadow-guards]

WIP

[carterashsart]

the Asshole(tm) character of the book im writing. His name is Vincent