Page 22 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

“ T his is your first time with Lady Elara?” Alden asked as he and Gareth walked toward the East Tower.

“It is.”

“Prepare yourself,” he said, climbing the circular stairs of the tower.

“For?”

“She is as beautiful as Lady Evelina, and like your lady, desired by every recruit in this castle.”

“She is not my lady.”

There was no question who “she” was, but as they emerged from the stairwell, Alden clearly did not believe him.

“Where do you go after strategy?”

“I will not incriminate myself by answering,” Gareth said.

Alden chuckled and answered for him. “The village.”

He said nothing more, thankfully. After yesterday’s training exercise, his friend had plenty to say about Gareth’s proposed meeting with Evelina.

From suggesting caution to surprise at her interest since, according to Alden, she famously was immune to the charms of any of the recruits who had fallen for her beauty and charm.

Which was, apparently, nearly all of them, Alden included.

“How old is she that all are so enamored with the instructor?”

“You’ve seen twenty-seven summers, aye?”

“Aye.”

“Likely she has seen a few less.”

“So young for such a duty.”

“The youngest of all of the knight school’s instructors, aye.

Her father was King Henry’s royal messenger, and none are so attuned to the intricacies of communication and diplomacy of court and beyond as she.

You will be impressed, but maybe less enamored than most, given you’ve somehow captured the interest of Lady Evelina. ”

“Captured the interest of Lady Evelina? Only our fair instructor is more elusive,” said a newcomer. Both Gareth and Alden turned to find a stranger had come up behind them. At least, the man was a stranger to Gareth. And judging from Alden’s expression, he did not know the knight either.

Black hair, neatly shaven and a good-looking man by any standards, less rugged than Alden and more polished, he was not a man Gareth had seen before. But he clearly knew both the strategy instructor and Lady Evelina.

“I do not believe we’ve met,” Alden said before Gareth could do so.

“Sir Roland de Vere,” the man said, sticking out his hand. Alden shook it. “You are the blacksmith, Sir Alden. And you, the revered tourney knight, Sir Gareth Claymore,” he added, shaking Gareth’s hand as well.

“You are new here,” Alden said, his tone hesitant.

“I am. Arrived just this morn.”

“But know much, it seems, about Blackwood.”

Not to mention Lady Evelina. If he’d just arrived, how did he know of the baron’s daughter already?

In response, he simply smiled.

De Vere. Where had he heard the name before? Then it occurred to him.

“Is your father the Lion of Ravensbrook?”

He did not seem pleased, though not offended either, by the question. “He is.”

“The Lion of Ravensbrook,” Alden murmured. “He led the charge under Henry at the Battle of Ravensbrook that secured victory with half as many men as the enemy.”

Alden simply stated what was common knowledge. It was a battle Gareth had heard of as a child. All young knights revered the Lion of Ravensbrook. But then he realized something.

“Your father supports the king?”

Sir Roland did react to that particular question. His ice-blue eyes turned stormy. “He does.”

Alden whistled. “A complicated entanglement, nearly as much so as if we were to arrive late for instructions. Lady Elara may not scare the pair of you, but I will not say the same for myself. She could scare the skin off a boar.”

With that, Alden marched ahead of them.

“The skin off a boar?” Roland asked. “I’ve not heard that particular expression before.”

“Nor have I. The smith has a particular knack for words.”

“That man himself could scare the skin off a boar. He could be Thorne’s son.”

Gareth laughed. He’d thought the same of the sword master, who smiled even less than Alden.

“So tell me, is it true you unseated the French king’s son this summer past to win le Tournoi des Chevaliers d’étoile?”

It was not surprising de Vere spoke French. Knowing his father, he would have been educated by the best tutors, his family’s legacy well-known.

“It is. If the prize was not so high, I might have allowed the prince his victory.”

“Was it the high prize”—he lowered his voice as they followed Alden—“or the prince’s haughtiness that decided the matter?”

“Both,” he admitted. “So tell me, Sir Roland, how do you know of Lady Evelina if you’ve just arrived?”

Sir Roland smiled. “If there is something I love more than a swordfight, it is being in the arms of a beautiful woman. ’Tis only natural I would know of the two most beautiful ones in the region.

But,” he added, “if you’ve captured her interest already, I would not interfere.

” Roland slapped his hand on Gareth’s back.

“For there is only one thing more important than both.”

“Both sword fighting and women?”

“Aye.”

Sir Roland’s easy manner had Gareth smiling. Or perhaps it was knowing, once this strategy lesson was over, he would soon be seeing Lady Evelina again.

“Pray tell, what is that one thing?” Alden asked, turning back.

“Loyalty to my friends.” Roland laughed aloud, causing Alden, who was just opening the chamber door, to look back at them.

“And we are friends?” Gareth asked.

Roland looked to Alden first and then back to Gareth. “I believe we will be.”

He’d not dispute the claim. But Gareth had no time to consider the matter further as a woman’s voice reached him.

“So nice of you three to join us. Do get inside, new recruits. And tell us what kept you from arriving at the designated hour.”

Gareth hid a smile. Thankfully, Alden was first to enter the chamber and therefore would be forced to offer an explanation for them. Better his friend than he.

“We mean no disrespect, my lady,” his friend said.

It was not the words but the way he said them . . . the way Alden looked at her that gave Gareth pause.

“Then if you would, please take your seats, gentleman.”

They did, Gareth looking back and forth between Alden and Lady Elara.

“We’ve two new recruits,” she said to the others, no more than ten men. “Welcome Sir Gareth Claymore and Sir Roland de Vere.”

A murmur of welcomes from some men Gareth had met already, and others that were new faces to him, greeted her statement.

“I will share with you,” she continued, “what I do with each new recruit. You have a measure of skill already, or you would not be here. But the Order of the Sacred Oak will require you,” she spoke to he and Roland now, “to be forced into positions you’ve never trained for.

Our goal is to ensure, no matter the mission, each and every knight here will find success.

The future of England depends on it. With me, you will learn to use your wits when the sword or bow and arrow are not sufficient to further the cause. ”

“I’ve not encountered a situation yet,” Sir Roland responded, “where the sword could not further my cause.”

Gareth dared not smile at the man’s daring. Lady Elara was, indeed, a woman to be reckoned with.

“Precisely why even the Lion of Ravensbrook’s son requires lessons. There is much, it seems, he still does not know.”

This time, Gareth’s effort to keep his expression neutral failed. Lady Elara waited, as if daring him to continue, but the swordsman said no more. Her gaze darted to Alden, ever so briefly, and then back to the others.

“So then. Shall we begin?”