Page 17 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

“ E vie,” her maid whispered, much too loudly.

Evelina attempted to hush her with a hand gesture, but instead of quieting down, Amalia pulled on her sleeve and repeated herself.

“Evie.” Her hushed whisper would have them caught sooner than Evelina’s eavesdropping. “Come away from the door before your father catches you.”

“Nay,” she said, ignoring the tug on her gown’s draping sleeve. “He is with Lord Stirling, and ’tis important. I can sense something is afoot.”

That the door to her father’s solar chamber remained ajar was both surprising and exciting.

She’d seen Lord Stirling follow him inside and though Evelina did not consider herself lucky, or even believe in such a thing, today her luck held true as the door was not fully closed behind them.

’Twas late enough that much of the staff was abed already, so she’d not expected to be caught, except by Amalia, who most certainly would be looking for her.

And indeed, had found her.

“Ask him on the morrow. Perhaps he will tell you. But this eve?—”

Amalia stopped whispering as Evelina gave her a look meant to convey how little she appreciated her advice. Her closest companion since childhood—the farmer’s daughter had been assigned to her as a maid when they had seen fewer than nine summers—crossed her arms.

Ignoring the gesture, she put her ear once again to the crack at the door.

“We’ve seen none like him before,” Lord Stirling said.

“His reputation is warranted, then?”

“Aye. We’ve known of his prowess as a tourney knight, but Thorne tested him well beyond those limits.”

“What do they say?” Amalia asked.

“You do not wish me to listen but want to know of the conversation?” she whispered back.

A wall torch’s light flickered across from them as the two women huddled by the ornate wooden door.

Silent, they listened to be certain none came upon them, but the only sound came from inside her father’s solar.

Amalia—her cheeky maid whose kind hazel eyes seem to hold the wisdom of centuries past even though she was of the same age as Evelina—simply shrugged.

Neither woman had seen twenty summers, neither were married, and some even thought the two sisters on the rare occasion Evelina’s maid wore her chestnut hair loose.

Indeed, they were as inseparable now as when they were children, Amalia her only companion since Evelina’s mother disappeared before begetting more children.

And typically, her maid and dear friend kept Evelina out of trouble, or at least she attempted to do so.

But now she was curious too.

“If the German had killed him?”

Who were they speaking of? What German? Killed who?

“He’d not have done so,” Lord Stirling replied. She could not hear his next words, so Evelina moved closer to the door.

“Extreme measures,” her father was saying. “To learn how he might react to accusations of cheating.”

“But worthwhile, as we learned Claymore is as chivalrous as he is skilled.”

Claymore. She’d heard the name before, but Evelina could not place where. Since her memory was as faulty as her singing, and knitting, she turned to Amalia.

“Where have I heard the name Claymore before?” she whispered.

Amalia’s eyes widened. “You really do not remember well at all. Your father spoke of him not a sennight ago. The tourney knight who’s not lost a joust even once before.”

Ahhh, it all became clear. Evelina listened once again.

“—will host a dinner to welcome him. I’ll speak to Evelina this eve.”

Speak to Evelina. He meant tell his only daughter to have a meal prepared , since, as a woman, ’twas the only thing she could manage.

Hosting guests, preparing herself for an advantageous marriage .

. . those were the qualities that mattered to him.

That others, like her tutor, called her intelligent and an unparalleled student of history mattered little to her father, who refused to acknowledge her skills.

Rolling her eyes, Evelina tugged her maid away from the solar chamber.

She could tell from the tone of his voice her father was growing weary of the conversation.

Getting caught outside his door would not do well for her, but it was only when the women were safely tucked inside Evelina’s chamber that she put all of the pieces together.

“A new recruit,” she said, sitting on her bed. “The tourney knight must be a new recruit.”

“If your father’s recounting of his victories holds true, ’tis no wonder they’ve recruited the man.”

“Aye. And it seems they tested him beyond simply his skill in the joust. My father mentioned something of how he reacted to accusations of cheating and Lord Stirling named his handling of the situation as chivalrous. The German must have been Claymore’s opponent.”

“I do not understand.” Amalia sat on the bed beside her.

“Nor do I. But father mentioned a dinner here to welcome him, so it seems we will meet this chivalrous tourney knight soon.”

“Another recruit. There have been more of late than usual.”

“Indeed,” Evelina agreed. “With rumors of Lady Maude soon returning to Normandy, many fear the tides will turn to Stephen’s favor once again. The Guardians must be planning a new offensive.”

The two women fell silent.

Neither were supposed to know of such things.

They were tasked with hosting dinners while others concerned themselves with the politics of Empress Matilda, affectionately known as Lady Maude by her supporters.

Not far from Ashcroft Manor, a secret society of knights, the Guardians of the Sacred Oak, trained to restore Lady Maude as rightful heir to England’s throne.

Evelina’s father, a man who had always felt more like a stranger to her, was one of the Guardians’ key financiers.

“Come,” Amalia said finally. “Let us prepare you for bed. It seems you will have much to do on the morrow, preparing to welcome the great knight of Claymore to our esteemed manor.”

Though she giggled at Amalia’s grandiose tone, Evelina did not revel in such a task.

Another pompous knight who, by the very act of being recruited to the Guardians, valued himself above all.

She grew weary of his kind and had no wish to welcome him or any knight at Ashcroft Manor.

But none cared what Evelina wanted, least of all the man who would order her to play hostess.

“The great knight of Claymore. I am ecstatic with anticipation,” she said, clearly anything but pleased. “I simply cannot wait to meet the new recruit.”

Her words were met by Amalia’s laughter, the one bright spot in an otherwise mundane existence that would not improve on the morrow. Great knight of Claymore? She could do without him gracing her presence, but as always, Evelina had little choice in the matter.