Page 2 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

“ C astle Blackwood.”

The name brought more weight than Anwen expected.

Ahead, the fortress loomed, its towers spearing the sky like a warning.

When Sir Eamon halted his mount, Anwen did the same.

From this vantage point, she could see the imposing castle far in the distance.

It looked less like the neglected keep he’d prepared her for than a fortress meant to intimidate.

“Do the locals not see increased activity and wonder at its cause?”

“Some are well aware,” the master swordsman said.

“Others may speculate. But only those within its gates will know Blackwood’s new purpose.

King Stephen devastated this region, more than most. You’d be unlikely to find even a single supporter of his here.

Even so, we’ve taken great care to maintain secrecy around this mission. ”

This mission.

A secret order of knights that Anwen was being tasked to help organize.

It was an exciting prospect, to get out of her mother’s shadow to accomplish such a task.

And while ready to accomplish what Sir Eamon had first asked of her mother, an assignment that fell to "my daughter’s very capable hands,” as Mother had said, it was, in truth, the biggest challenge of Anwen’s brief life.

Not quite twenty and seven, she was older than most already married at her age, but younger than one would expect to take on such a challenge.

“I am proud to serve the rightful queen,” Anwen said. “And prepared for this mission.”

“Good,” Sir Eamon responded. “Shall we?”

Riding down the hill, the two were silent.

It had been a three day journey from her home, one Anwen had rarely left since her father died.

Her mother was wary, perhaps overly so, given their allegiances.

The king could be a spiteful one, and they were best to avoid his notice, her mother had said.

It made for a peaceful, yet dull, existence.

“As I explained to your mother,” he said, their mounts easily navigating the rocky and slightly muddy terrain.

“This is not without risk. Lord Ashcroft has as many enemies as allies, and being one of our principal benefactors has enabled the Guardians to exist, but in some ways puts a target on Blackwood as well.”

“Better in danger than wasting away at Clarefield.”

A quip that was more true than Anwen wished to admit.

Sir Eamon gave Anwen a sidelong look. “Your mother has…quite the reputation for being meticulously devoted to maintaining your estate.”

“Meticulous,” she repeated. “That is certainly one word you may use to describe the baroness.” Not wishing to malign her mother who had taken great care of her siblings after their father took ill and died, all within a fortnight, she changed the topic.

“You told us there would be others coming to prepare Castle Blackwood for its recruits. Are there other women?”

Having to leave her maid and friend behind had been difficult.

Anwen was more than a little surprised her mother even agreed she could travel without an escort, but since she had known Eamon for many years, and was anxious to serve Empress Matilda and the rebellion in any way possible, her mother had made the extraordinary decision to allow it.

“Servants, aye. But I fear you are one of only a few. We’ve been vetting every person who’s come through the castle gates.”

“With good reason,” she assured him. “I am grateful for your trust.”

The castle loomed.

“I know no other family as loyal to the cause and as capable as your own. You were too young to remember when your mother successfully hosted King Henry and his court. Not an easy task.”

“Not once,” she reminded him. “But twice.”

“Ahh, you are correct. Your father and he were close.”

“It is that man, my father’s friend, we fight for. His wishes mattered nought to Stephen, but we will see Henry’s daughter take the throne.”

“We will,” Eamon said, his voice brokering no argument on the topic. “Though it has been a long and bloody war to see it done. One wrought with many sacrifices for all involved.”

“Indeed,” Anwen replied, falling silent.

She had sacrificed a life like her mother’s, married to a man she cared for with children to love from a union that was rare among nobles.

And it could have been hers. By all accounts, she’d not just born affection for her betrothed.

Her feelings had extended beyond that, even.

Perhaps she’d doomed herself by becoming excited about her upcoming nuptials.

Where other noblewomen plead with their parents to choose another—one younger, kinder, more handsome—Anwen had the good fortune to be raised beside such a man.

Their neighbor, one of her family’s closest allies, a supporter of the true queen, and one of the best men Anwen knew, Sir Rystan Vale was all of that and more.

Best yet, he had felt the same for her. Or he had, at least, until his eldest brother died and Rystan had declined the earldom.

She remembered that day as if it were yesterday, though in truth it had been nearly eight summers ago.

“I’ve called the betrothal off.”

Anwen had stared at her mother, nearly as shocked as the day she’d told her Anwen’s father was dying.

“Pardon?” she asked, certain Anwen had misheard her.

“I know you bear affection for Sir Rystan, but affection will not ensure you well fed or with the comforts you are accustomed to having. Sir Rystan has declined his inheritance. His younger brother will be the fourth Earl of Vale. Though I commend your former betrothed for such a sacrifice on behalf of Matilda’s cause?—”

Her mother had not finished. Anwen begged, cried, pleaded with her tutor to devise a logical argument to counter her mother. In the end, naught had worked. The life Rystan had chosen was not the one Lady Clarefield would accept for her eldest daughter.

Anwen had blamed her mother, but also Rhsytan. Instead of informing her directly of his plans, he’d spoken to Anwen’s mother and never once asked to see her. To say goodbye. Instead, he left for the siege at Oxford and had never once written or called on her again.

“Your new home,” Eamon said proudly. “For a spell.”

She’d been so lost in thought, Anwen had neglected her surroundings. Looking up at the impressive gate house, she pushed all thoughts of her former betrothed, and the life she once dreamed of, to the deepest recesses of her mind.

Where they belonged.

“My lady?”

Something about Sir Eamon’s tone gave her pause.

“Before we enter the castle gates, there is something you should know.”

Her instincts had been accurate. From his expression, something was clearly amiss, though Anwen could not fathom what it might be. She waited for him to continue.

“We’ve recruited others to aid in preparing Castle Blackwood, including a knight well-acquainted with training methods who will assist us?—”

“Who?” she asked, knowing the identity of this knight was Eamon’s revelation.

He appeared genuinely uncomfortable.

“Sir Rystan Vale.”