Page 17 of Chivalry in the Meadow (Hope Runs Deep #2)

Before she could reply, Sir Cedric’s laughter rang out. He strolled toward them, blond hair gleaming in the sun, flashing Mia a smile that all but demanded she look away from his rival to focus only on him.

“Ah, fair lady,” Sir Cedric said, “you mustn’t let Sir Alaric bore you with details of hay and mucking stalls. If you’d like to see the stables, I’ll be delighted to escort you there myself. And I promise, my stories are livelier.”

Mia found herself caught between them again, the golden knight offering charm and attention, and the dark knight who had already given her the answer she sought.

And for the first time, she realized the stables might hold more than horses. They might hold answers about the men themselves.

“Thank you, milords,” Mia curtsied to them both. “You’ve been kind to answer my questions when I know you’re both very busy. I will now resume my shopping.”

“Never too busy, milady,” Sir Alaric said with a bow.

“Allow me to accompany you,” Sir Cedric said, having removed all his armor. His squire was now loading it into the wagon, while his horse stood waiting. “What are we shopping for?”

So, would he now leave his horse for his squire to do all the work of removing the armor and tending to the horse?

She suspected he would.

“I wish to browse through the crystals,” she said. “So, I’m headed to the crystal shop.”

He took a step back as if he’d been struck.

“You collect stones?” he said, shock in his voice.

Then he gave her a dazzling smile as if to make up for his initial reaction.

“Or jewelry perhaps. Many ladies buy what they see as pretty rocks set in necklaces and earrings.” He shook his head.

“But this is not quality jewelry. I will take you to a store which has much higher quality jewelry. Real gemstones, such as emeralds, not cheap rocks such as the crystal sellers have.”

Does he not realize that the prize and value of a rock of any kind comes from the price and value that men have placed on it?

Even some crystals were prized and prices higher than others. Mia prized her crystals for how they made her feel. But she wasn’t about to explain any of that to him. Clearly, he saw no value in crystals.

“I do collect stones,” she said. “At home I have a whole shelf of them.”

What would he make of that?

“Really?” his eyes widened. “I would not have guessed. Do you wear them on your person?” His eyes looked her over as if searching for some and gleaned with intensity. “Perhaps in a pocket?”

“I have not worn them, but that is a lovely idea,” she said. “I believe I should. Stones make me happy.”

“Really?” His tone indicated he found that strange.

She found his intensity and reactions to crystals strange.

“No need to escort me,” she said. “I expect I’ll be browsing through the crystals for quite some time.” She gave him a smile, wanting nothing more than to be away from this awkward conversation.

Clearly, we are not compatible when it comes to crystals. He would discourage me from collecting them, like Jerry did.

Likely he thought them woo-woo as well. Jerry’s favorite description of the things she was drawn to. It had been a constant criticism from her former boyfriend, who’d wanted her to ‘stop wasting money on that stuff.’

Funny how some men viewed buying crystals as a waste but spending hundreds if not thousands of dollars on fine jewelry gemstones was considered an investment.

Was Sir Cedric like Jerry? I hope this is the only way there alike.

She felt a headache coming on.

Right now, she really felt the need to be in a quiet and calming environment.

Being near the knights had her in a fuzzle, as if she’d drunk too much and couldn’t get her head on straight, and her feels were all over the place right now.

The crystal shop would provide a place where she could clear her head, her body and her emotions from being around both handsome knights. There was just something comforting about certain kinds of stones. Perhaps she would purchase one, since she hadn’t packed any to bring with her.

“Well, then, enjoy the rest of your day, mistress,” he said with a bow. “I must attend my horse,” he turned away then, as if dismissing her.

Well. So, he’s finally interested in attending to his horse. I wonder if the real Sir Cedric is different than the white knight for the show Sir Cedric, or if they are one and the same. I suspect they might be. But it’s too early to know. I barely know him.

She left the field headed for the crystal shop.

The fairgrounds had quieted until they were silent now that the jousts were over.

Musicians had set up at the tavern and on stages to perform again.

The bustle of the tiltyard had given way to the hum of distant voices, instruments being tuned, and the creak of wagons full of armor being hauled back to the knight’s campsite.

Mia entered the crystal shop and immediately her tension began to ease. She ran her hand through a box of mixed stones, but there were too many types and colors, which would just jumble her energy more, so she refrained from that habit and removed her hand.

Calming stones, that’s what she needed.

She moved over to the basket of rose quartz and picked up a polished pale pink stone which fit perfectly in her palm. She liked the feel of it and closed her eyes, listening to her body, and liking the stone even more, as she slowly began to calm.

The noise and scents of the fair seemed distant, here in the tent. She was glad for this small oasis amongst the visual, auditory, and scent stimulation. She closed her eyes and focused on the stone and on her breathing.

Yes, this one. And perhaps one to wear?

She opened her eyes again and looked through the hanging necklaces, found some with polished rose quartz on silver chains and tried them on until she had the one with the longest chain on. The polished heart shaped stone was beautiful, and it called to her.

Perfect. But would it go with my gown tonight?

This longer chain will leave the stone down in my cleavage. That would hide it beneath the dress.

She liked the idea.

Rose quartz was a heart stone, a stone of love. Perhaps it would bring the thing she most wanted. True love.

Handing them to the shop keeper, she said, “This one to wear and this one to place under my pillow.”

“Then you will always be surrounded by love,” the woman said, smiled at her handing her change and a bag with her stones.

Mia reached in, removed the necklace and placed it over her head. “Might as well start now,” she said. “It can never be too early for true love.”

“Wait,” the woman said. She took out a bundle of white sage and said, “Let me sage you. Many hands have picked up these stones, and if you are wearing it right away before cleansing, this would be best.”

Mia nodded and the woman lit the sage and proceeded to wave the smoke around Mia’s head, neck, and down her whole body.

No matter what anyone said about her beliefs being woo-woo, the sage wafting around her made her feel better.

As if the woman had read her thoughts, she said, “You know native Americans believe in the cleansing power of sage. Many cultures use sage for cleansing.”

Mia nodded.

“Here,” the woman said, grinding the smoking ends of the sage bundle on a large seashell. “Take this with you. Cleanse when anyone has touched your stones, or your person.” She examined the end to make sure it was out and then tucked it into Mia’s bag.

“Thank you,” Mia said.

“You’re welcome,” the woman replied. “Sleep well tonight.”

Mia left the crystal shop and walked to the edge of the field. As she looked out and lingered, she recalled Sir Alaric’s quiet directions. Past the tiltyard. Beyond the armorer’s tent. Against the tree line. There she would find the barn.

Her steps carried her almost without thought, curiosity pulling her farther from the heart of the festival.

She wanted to see the horses, the great destriers, up close, without the roar of the crowd.

Wanted to see how they were cared for by the knights and squires.

She told herself it was harmless, just a glimpse behind the spectacle.

The stables came into view: a long barn with stalls open to the cooling evening air. Horses snorted and stamped inside, their hides gleaming with sweat. The smell of hay, leather and animals was strong, but not unpleasant.

Mia slipped closer, careful not to draw attention. Then she heard voices.

“…you pressed too hard,” came Sir Alaric’s low voice, edged with steel.

Sir Cedric’s laughter followed, bright and careless. “Pressed? I merely gave the crowd what they wanted. A show. You , on the other hand, ride as though every tilt were war itself.”

“Every tilt is war, when a lance can break a man’s neck,” Sir Alaric snapped. “One day, your vanity will cost you more than bruises.”

“Oh, come now,” Sir Cedric drawled, the sound of him shifting armor accompanying his words. “You brood so heavily, Sir Alaric, one wonders how your horse bears the weight. A knight must win hearts as well as matches. The crowd adores me. And so,” his voice dipped, amused, “do certain ladies.”

Mia’s breath caught. She froze, hidden in the shadows between two stalls, her heart hammering, aware of the heart stone against her skin.

Sir Alaric’s reply was sharp, but quieter, as if he meant it to cut deep. “Charm is fleeting. Honor is not. And no lady worth her salt would mistake the two.”

There was a pause, heavy with unspoken words.

Sir Cedric chuckled again, but the sound lacked some of its ease.

Mia pressed a hand to her chest, over the heart stone, unsure whether she wanted to hear more, or whether she dared be caught listening. She held her breath, pressing back into the shadows as the argument sharpened and then dulled into tense silence.

The horses shifted restlessly in their stalls, as if sensing her nervous energy.

She should leave. She knew she should. And yet, she stayed rooted, torn between the golden knight’s reckless laughter, and the dark knight’s grim warning, feeling as though whichever path she chose, it would change everything.

A squire passed by with a bucket of water, and she darted farther into the darkness between the stalls, her skirts brushing against rough timber.

Sir Cedric’s voice came again, lower now, almost conspiratorial. “You take the world too seriously, Sir Alaric. Not every fight ends in blood. Sometimes it ends in a kiss.”

Sir Alaric’s reply was little more than a growl. “Spare me your pretty words. They’re worth less than the hay at your feet.”

Mia’s pulse thrummed in her ears. The air between the two knights felt like a drawn bowstring, stretched to breaking. If they discovered her there, eavesdropping, she wasn’t sure which would be worse, their anger, or the weight of their questions.

One of the horses tossed its head, snorting. She bit her lip, waiting for one of the knights to turn and see her. But neither knight moved toward her hiding place.

Slowly, carefully, she stepped back, her slippers barely whispering against the trampled straw. Another step. Then another. She edged toward the far end of the stables, heart racing.

Sir Cedric’s laugh rang out again, though harsher this time. “One day, old friend, you’ll learn that your brooding darkness doesn’t win hearts. It only drives them away. Everyone is drawn toward the light of a white knight. No man can best me. I will always be victorious.”

Mia slipped beyond the last stall, and into the cooler shade of the trees before she could hear Sir Alaric’s answer to Sir Cedric’s taunting and bragging. The shadows of the trees welcomed her as she hurried back toward the tents, her breath coming fast.

They hadn’t seen her. She was certain of it.

And yet, even as she tried to shake off the tension of what she’d overheard, she couldn’t silence the echo of their words. Sir Cedric’s charm, Sir Alaric’s warning. Both had been speaking of knights and honor. But in her bones, Mia felt the truth: they were also speaking of her.