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“I do not believe you….”

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U nfortunately, things did not go well for Tobias.

Thad, an excellent knight in his own right, pulled a few tricks on his cousin in the midst of their combat that sent Tobias to the ground, enough so that Thad was able to pin him and be declared the victor by a host of gleeful soldiers.

Therefore, it was Thad who had the privilege of carrying Amaline’s favor, which turned out to be a hairpin because she had nothing else to give him.

Securing the iron pin on the collar of the linen tunic beneath his armor, Thad victoriously escorted Amaline over to the makeshift arena they had built over by the troop house, leaving Jamison to escort Havilland and Tobias to nurse his wounded pride.

Certainly, it hadn’t been the glorious victory Tobias had expected.

But he had organized the games so he threw himself into his task, which at this point involved an archery competition they had set up in the arena.

Including him and Jamison and Thad, Tobias had hand-selected several de Lohr men he knew were good archers and a few Four Crosses men who had come recommended to him as excellent archers.

At the edge of the arena, there were two gambling tables set up and men going mad placing bets on the competitors.

Already, money was changing hands at an alarming rate and the mood of the castle on this bright winter’s morning was electrified with excitement in complete contrast to the sullen, suspicious, and beaten mood that had filled the men and the castle for months on end.

Because of this, the knights were realizing, more and more, that Jamison had been correct in his decision to have a day of morale boosting.

It wasn’t simply about giving joy to two young ladies who had known little; this was about lifting the spirits of the entire castle.

The men were happier already, alive with the excitement of the coming games, and as the two ladies and their escorts reached the makeshift arena, the noise was already loud with men excitedly shouting as competitors began to take the field for the archery competition.

Increasingly, Havilland and Amaline seemed to be overcoming their shock at the unexpected festival and were coming to the realization that Jamison and his men had done a massive amount of work overnight.

After the surprise wore away, the glee began to take hold and by the time Jamison and Thad lifted the ladies up onto the viewing platform that the men had constructed during the night, both women were smiling a great deal, thrilled at the spectacle.

But no one was smiling more than Havilland was.

And all of her smiling was aimed at Jamison.

Once he lifted her to sit on one of the two chairs that had been placed on the viewing platform, she didn’t want to let him go.

He was sweet and attentive, asking if she wanted a cushion, and then sending someone to fetch old Bethan to stand with the ladies and be a chaperone with them while he wasn’t able to stand at her side.

It was utterly unnecessary to have the old servant as a chaperone to women who could easily handle a weapon, but in the civilized world, it was the proper thing to do.

Jamison was being very thoughtful and kind, more than anything Havilland had ever experienced.

If she had any doubts about the man and his feelings for her, his actions of the morning had dashed them.

And her feeling for him were true, as well.

Therefore, when Bethan arrived and was heaved up to the platform by two soldiers, Jamison turned to leave but Havilland grabbed his hand and wouldn’t let him go.

“Why do you leave?” she asked anxiously.

He smiled at her, pointing to the arena with the hand she didn’t have a viselike grip on. “I am going tae compete,” he said. “I know that Scotsmen aren’t known for their archery skills, but lest ye forget, I trained in England. I can handle a bow better than most.”

Havilland turned to look at the arena, too, seeing how they had set up a row of targets by using the troop house for a backstop.

The targets were of wood, cut square although they were of varying sizes, hastily done, and all of them held up by a wooden frame.

Right in the center of the target was a circle made from lime mortar, the same mortar they were using to rebuild the walls of Four Crosses.

It was a neatly-formed circle, white, that also gave off a strange glow-like quality because of the minerals in the lime.

The targets were very easy to see across the arena floor.

“Very well,” she said, letting go of his hand. “Best of luck to you. I… I will be cheering for you.”

He smiled at her. “And I will hear ye,” he said. “But ye must give me a token for luck. I dunna have one.”

In a panic, she began looking around on her body, trying to see if there was a spare piece of cloth from the dress that he could have.

But there was nothing. She had no idea what to give him when she suddenly caught a flash of a blade.

As she watched, Jamison unsheathed one of his dirks and used the razor-sharp blade to cut the end off of the scarf that ran through her hair.

It was just a couple of inches, but it was enough for him.

With a grin, he lifted it to his nose, smelling it, before tucking it into his belt.

“That’ll do,” he said quietly, his eyes glimmering at her. “Now, watch the games. I think ye will enjoy them.”

Havilland smiled at him, watching him as he deftly leapt off the platform and headed out into the field.

In fact, she had eyes only for him as he moved to a crowd of men at the edge of the arena and pulled forth a bow from one of the de Lohr soldiers.

There were plenty of yew-branch bows from the armory but the ammunition for them was rather scarce, so they had handed out what ammunition they had to the competitors to be reused.

Jamison, inspecting the bow he was to use, was taller than even the tallest man, his red hair glistening in the weak winter sun. He was all she could see.

Adoring. That’s the only way Havilland could explain her feelings about him at the moment because she had no context on anything greater.

She’d never loved a man nor had she ever been in love.

But watching Jamison made her feel like smiling.

What he had done for her today, arranging this festival in her honor simply because he couldn’t stand to see her so disappointed, went beyond anything she had ever imagined.

She thought, quite possibly, that she could grow to love this man.

Wasn’t that what adoration was, anyway? Anyone who would do such marvelous things for her was surely worthy of her love.

“Havi?”

Amaline was tugging on her sleeve, distracting her from thoughts of Jamison. Havilland turned to her youngest sister to see distress on the girl’s face. She was instantly concerned.

“What is it?” she asked.

Amaline was distressed, indeed. “Bethan has asked where Madeline is,” she whispered. “What do I tell her?”

Havilland glanced at the old woman, standing on the other side of Amaline, watching the activity on the field. “What did you tell her?” she asked quietly.

Amaline almost glanced at Bethan, too, but stopped herself. She didn’t want to make it obvious that she was talking about the woman. “I told her that I had not seen her yet today,” she said. “It is the truth. I have not seen her today.”

Havilland knew it wouldn’t be the first time someone asked about Madeline today.

As much as she and Amaline were, Madeline was an important and visible figure at Four Crosses.

Her absence would be obvious and they simply couldn’t pretend as if she did not exist. As much as thoughts of this festival were meant to buoy her, now thoughts of Madeline were dragging her down.

With a fresh day dawning, her anger towards her sister was just as strong as it ever was but there was also a sense of extreme hurt and disappointment that Madeline would so easily betray them.

Now, the anger was starting to gain some momentum and she struggled to put it aside for she didn’t want to ruin this special day and everything Jamison had worked hard for.

She refused to let Madeline ruin this day.

“You told her what you could,” she said after a moment, her gaze on Jamison as he moved to his spot in the arena, which happened to be almost directly in front of her. “If anyone asks, we will simply say that she did not wish to be part of this day.”

Amaline nodded, watching the men take position in front of the platform.

There was Thad and Tobias and then Jamison in front of them, and then a host of other soldiers down the line, all of them with their bows, facing the targets across the arena.

Amaline didn’t say anything more about Madeline but she was surely thinking about her middle sister.

In fact, as the first round of arrows flew to their targets and the crowd cheered, including Havilland, Amaline found her attention pulled to the gatehouse and the vault beneath it.

Now, she couldn’t stop thinking of her sister.

Oh, Madeline… did you really do what they say you did?

In truth, she had been wondering that from the start.

Was it possible there had been a miscommunication or a misunderstanding?

Madeline was bossy and aggressive, and Amaline had meant it last night when she said she hoped that Madeline would stay in the vault forever.

But morning had seen Amaline’s stance wavering.

She was afraid for her sister, afraid of what Lord de Lohr would do to her.

Weren’t spies executed? Was it possible that Madeline would be put to death?

The more Amaline thought about that, the more fearful she became.