Page 70 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

“ W e’ve seen you little these past days,” Alden said from Roland’s side.

Eamon had been able to get both of his friends into the tower for the banquet. Unlike Darien, Alden appeared ill at ease.

“He would not leave her side,” Darien said.

“Guarding a future queen is an honor.” Alden lifted the wine goblet in front of him, likely wishing it were a mug of ale instead.

“I did not mean the queen.” Darien also lifted his goblet to take a sip.

The three men sat at a table far from the dais with some of the other Guardians. Eamon was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Amalia, though Roland was told she had been invited to the banquet.

It was odd, after being surrounded by mostly men at Castle Blackwood, to now sit in a hall filled with as many noblewomen as noblemen and knights, both of the realm and their order.

One group of three ladies, in particular, continued to speak between themselves and look their way, but Roland noticed only when Darien pointed out the fact.

To him, every one of them paled in comparison to Amalia.

“There she is.”

Darien nodded to the great hall’s entranceway.

Roland stood to see her better.

Never in his days had he seen anything more beautiful. Regal as the queen herself, Amalia moved forward, her gown and veil fitting so perfectly he could only wonder how the future queen managed such a thing.

Amalia scanned the hall, presumably looking for him.

When their eyes met, Roland felt as if he were the luckiest man in the hall. Her smile told him that she was as glad to see him as he was her. Uncaring for protocol, he went to her. Weaved his way through the tables toward the hall’s entrance.

“Amalia,” he said, reaching her. “You are beyond beautiful. Incomparable.” He offered his arm.

“And you, most handsome. Though it seems I am not the only one to notice as much.”

Roland didn’t take his eyes from her. “I see none but you.”

Escorting her to their table, Roland uneasily watched his fellow recruits admire Amalia’s transformation.

“You look lovely,” Darien said as she sat.

Before Amalia could respond, everyone began to stand. It seemed the empress had arrived. The hall, filled with her supporters, began to cheer as a very different-looking woman than the one they’d escorted made her way to the dais.

Looking every bit like the queen, Matilda raised her hand to quiet the crowd before she sat.

“Esteemed companions, I stand afore thee today, deeply moved by thy steadfast support. Our journey together hath been marked by challenges, but thy dedication has been our guiding light. As we gather in celebration, let us embrace the ideals that unite us—justice, fairness, and prosperity. Today, we stand at the threshold of a new era, where our shared vision becomes reality. With your continued support, we shall script a history of resilience and triumph. To our shared journey and noble aspirations.”

More cheers greeted her speech, the hall filled with those who had worked tirelessly for years to see Stephen’s reign come to an end.

“To the rightful queen of England,” someone called from the crowd.

Roland and the others joined in raising their goblets into the air. The mood—joyous and exuberant—combined with the opportunity to be with Amalia, allowed Roland to let go of his apprehensions for the first time since setting forth on this journey.

“In two days’ time,” Darien said as the first course was cleared, “we will have not only guarded the Sacred Oak but have seen her successfully to London to be crowned.”

“What will you do after London?” Amalia asked.

Darien, having been shrouded in mystery since his arrival, shrugged his shoulders. Elusive, as always. “I may return home.”

“May?” Alden asked. “Will you not return to ensure the mythical beast you overtook does not return to threaten your family?”

“Ahh, yes. The beast.” Darien smiled.

Rumors of his slaying a mythical beast were only rivaled by those who said Darien made a deal with the devil to obtain his superior bow skills.

“Why do they say as much?” Amalia asked.

“The Isle of Ely,” Roland answered for him, “is inaccessible, and therefore, has always retained an air of mystery. I myself once heard whispers back home which spoke of moonlit meetings with mysterious figures and arcane rituals, some saying the earl of Ely possesses an ancient grimoire, a book of forbidden knowledge, hidden within the walls of Ely Castle.”

He was so unused to seeing Amalia veiled that he did not even glance at Darien to see his reaction to Roland’s tale. Instead he watched as Amalia took a long sip of wine. He would dearly love to be drinking wine with her, alone.

“Ahh, the grimoire,” Darien said.

Roland looked from Amalia to his friend. Darien’s knowing smile told Roland all he needed to know of the legends. They were that, legends, and nothing more.

Though Darien’s bow skills were unearthly.

“Tell us more of this grimoire,” Alden said.

Whatever tales Darien might have regaled them with were cut short by the sight of Matilda’s captain climbing the dais stairs. Roland liked not the expression on the man’s face, a fact that was heightened by the empress’s own expression.

“What is it?” Amalia asked.

It seemed they were not the only ones in the hall to notice the discussion. When the captain moved away, the empress remained seated. Whatever was wrong, it could not be urgent.

“I am uncertain,” Roland said.

“Where is Eamon?” Darien asked.

Roland had noticed earlier the swordmaster seemed to be missing. “I do not know.”

“Do you think,” Amalia asked, setting her wine goblet back on the table, “it has aught to do with Empress Matilda’s reception?”

She asked it so quietly, only Roland and the two across from them could hear. The others that sat with them spoke to each other.

“Her reception?” Alden asked.

“It is just . . . the maids that helped me dress . . . ” She frowned, likely at Roland’s expression.

“Apologies. But when you speak of dressing?—”

“Roland,” she chastised.

Darien snickered.

“Tell me,” he said. “About the maids.”

“They seemed hesitant. When I asked about how the future queen was received here.”

“I was similarly surprised it was not warmer on our way through the city,” Darien said.

Their table fell silent.

And while the rest of the meal progressed, Roland made a decision. “I will come to you this eve,” he whispered to Amalia.

“Do you think it is wise?” she whispered back. “I am attended by two maids, and they might speak of it. There are guards at the top of my stairwell as well. I wish for nothing more than you to do so?—”

“I will come to you,” he repeated. “But not only for the reasons you are thinking.”

Her brows rose. “Then why?”

Not wanting to speak the words aloud, to bring something to fruition that was unlikely to occur, he also needed Amalia to know it was important she work with him to see his path to her cleared.

“For your protection.”