Page 62 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

H e’d not seen her in a sennight. Not at meals. Not around the castle.

Roland waited for his turn at the target, bow and arrow in hand.

Since that night with Darien, word had spread. Others had gone to her for healing, and Rowena had visited and, according to Darien, given Amalia much-needed supplies. A small solar had been cleared out for her use, and minor injuries from training had apparently kept Amalia busy.

He had considered seeking her out, but each day he decided against it. If Amalia wished to see him, she could do so. Clearly, she did not.

Because I am not a virgin does not mean I wish to be a man’s paramour.

He’d been angry that night, to hear those words from her.

But as he thought more on the matter, he also could not deny that he wanted her badly.

That one taste of her had not been enough.

He thought only of the moment. Of pleasure.

Being with her. But Amalia thought of what came afterward—something Roland rarely considered when he was with a woman.

Amalia was not like other women.

So he’d avoided her, even as whispers about her skill swirled. Even as thoughts of her consumed him. It was a feeling he did not enjoy at all, one as foreign to him as losing a swordfight.

“De Vere? If you wish to get yourself killed on the battlefield,” Lord Stirling said to him, “a lack of focus will surely do the job.”

Darien held back a smile next to him.

“Apologies, instructor.”

He stepped up to the line, drew back and released an arrow.

And another. After three attempts, he hit the center.

Moving to the back of the line, Roland grumbled to his friend after Darien hit the very center on the first attempt, “I will never find myself with bow in hand during battle. It will be the sword for me, or naught at all.”

Darien repeated what they’d heard from their instructors many times. “You may be called for any duty, so all battlefield skills will be honed, not only those at which you already excel.”

“They are back,” a voice called from behind them. It was Alden, running toward them. “They are back.”

The other recruits in line with Roland and Darien all watched as Alden reached the men. “Gareth and his wife. They’re back.”

Sir Eamon had said, days earlier, that he’d arranged for a meeting between Lady Evelina and the man she’d thought was her father. He had not known when they would arrive, but it seemed today was the day.

Roland ran past the line of recruits and to their instructor. “Lord Stirling? Permission for Darien and me to be dismissed? Our friend has returned, it seems?—”

“Go,” Stirling said. “But remember, victory in battle begins, and ends”—he pointed to his head—“here. Distractions will get you killed, de Vere.”

“Aye, my lord.” He offered a quick bow in deference to Stirling’s position despite the fact that Roland outranked the instructor.

The three men all but ran to the keep. Once inside, they did not spot Gareth and his wife.

“Have you seen Sir Eamon?” Darien asked a serving maid who passed.

“Nay, my lord,” she said, looking up at him with more than a hint of appreciation in her eyes.

They asked everyone, but none had seen them, until they spotted Lady Elara descending the stairwell, likely just having finished instruction.

“Lady Elara.” Alden spoke to her, not surprisingly. “Have you seen Sir Eamon?”

“I have.” She nodded abovestairs. “He is in his chamber.”

“With guests?”

“Aye.” She smiled. “With guests.”

The three men took each of the stairs by two, only Alden bidding adieu to the lady. By the time they reached Eamon’s chamber and knocked, all were anxious to see their friend.

“Ahh.” Sir Eamon opened the heavy wooden door. “I’d expected you three might come.”

They burst inside, and indeed, Sir Gareth was there with Lady Evelina. Each of the men embraced their friend and congratulated the pair.

“Tell us all,” Alden said.

Gareth and Evelina exchanged a glance. Holding hands, clearly very much in love, the two drew in a collective breath. It was as if they were one person, and Roland had never seen Gareth happier. He was glad for his friend, but Gareth had paid a heavy price for choosing to marry the woman he loved.

“We spoke to him already,” Lady Evelina said. “On our way here. Eamon—” She smiled, peering at the swordmaster. “ My father facilitated the meeting.”

“It went as planned,” Eamon interjected.

“Which is to say,” Gareth added, “awful. At first, he would hear nothing of what we had to say. My deeds at Lincoln Castle were meaningless to him.”

“When you aspire to marry your daughter to the son of a future queen, no other will measure up to such a standard,” Eamon said.

“My father...the baron,” Evelina corrected herself, “was not receptive but eventually saw reason. He agreed not to challenge the marriage under the condition that I not expose myself as his bastard daughter.”

Roland cast a quick glance at Eamon. As always, he remained stalwart. Roland did not know a greater, more honorable man than his swordmaster. Evelina’s happiness came before his own, for keeping the fact that she was his daughter a secret could not be easy.

“Where will you go?” Darien asked. “What will you do?”

“We will remain here,” Gareth said.

“You are in the presence of our new horsemanship instructor.”

Every jaw in the chamber dropped. Of course. It made so much sense. Their previous instructor had died in the siege at Lincoln Castle, and Gareth was more decorated as a tourney knight, more skilled in mounted combat, than any man in England. It was the reason he’d been recruited.

One by one, they shook his hand.

“Congratulations,” Alden said. “Though you may find us to be difficult students.”

“I will not,” Roland said, shaking Gareth’s hand as well, “call you aught but Gareth.”

“Nor would I expect it. These three will be difficult students, I expect.”

“I expect they will,” Eamon agreed.

A knock at the door interrupted them. Eamon opened it.

Amalia.

She flew into the room and into Evelina’s arms. The two embraced and did not appear to have any inclination to let go.

Roland could understand. If he got Amalia in his arms, he might not be inclined to let go either. She wore a gown he’d not seen before, and the deep green color suited her. Very well.

As Evelina and Gareth repeated their story to Amalia, Roland watched her face. From happiness to surprise to relief, it was only when they told her of their plans to stay at Castle Blackwood, Gareth as a new instructor, that Amalia’s smile faltered.

For the first time since entering the chamber, she looked at Roland.

Before he could decipher her expression, Eamon spoke.

“Though I do not wish to cut this reunion short, I’ve other news to share.”

All attention turned to him.

“As you know, the queen is being moved to London to be crowned while Stephen remains in captivity. She has the backing of the church and enough high-ranking nobles that her advice has been not to delay. A contingency of Guardians will serve as her personal escorts.”

It was truly happening. A murmur of excitement filled the chamber. It’s what they had been recruited for. Trained for.

“You served well at Lincoln,” Eamon said to Gareth. “And are newly married. Remain here. Step into your position as instructor with the recruits, then stay behind.”

Gareth did not seem pleased by the order, but nodded anyway.

“The three of you will go.” Eamon then spoke to Amalia. “I would also request you accompany them, Amalia.”

Her eyes widened. “Me?”

“Your deeds as a healer these past days have not gone unnoticed. It could be dangerous, so I will leave the decision to you. But if we’ve lacked anything on previous missions, it was our own healer if anything were to go amiss. Perhaps if we had someone like you...”

“She could not have saved him,” Gareth said. “None could have.”

They spoke of Sir Adrian Fitzwilliam, the previous horsemanship instructor.

Silence filled the chamber.

“I will go,” Amalia said suddenly.

“Amalia.” Evelina seemed as if she would dissuade her. “They will be installing a new queen to the throne of England. Stephen’s supporters surely will not let such a thing occur without resistance.”

“These past days,” Amalia said, “I have served a purpose. And while I am honored to be your maid—the decision is as much yours as my own—it would bring me great pleasure to aid a worthy cause in this way.”

Evelina did not hesitate. “The choice is yours, Amalia. Are you certain?”

Pride swelled within Roland as Amalia nodded.

Pride and . . . something else.

Fear for her safety.

Trepidation of having her so close.

Amalia looked at him. She was thinking the same.