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Her heart beat in her throat, and her right hand drifted to her chest. Would Rupert lose? Would it be out of the question to comfort him? But she wanted to speak with Theobold. And he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She held a hand up to her warming cheeks. Could she look him in the eye without blushing?

In seconds, Theobold had knocked his wooden sword away, sending it out of reach.

He had his blade at Rupert’s throat. The dust cleared, and the young fighters were at a standstill.

The point of Theobold’s blade rested against Rupert’s throat.

It was held there lightly, but if he wanted to, Theobold could cause Rupert harm and not be criticized for it.

His voice was loud and clear in the swirling dust. “Do you yield?”

“Yes.” Rupert’s voice came, resigned. He was still.

Theobold lowered his wooden sword with a half-smile and offered a hand to help Rupert up. Rupert took it and got to his feet in an instant, shaking hands.

Bronwyn licked her lips. Both men were sweaty, dusty, and dirty. The sun beat down on them, and there was no mistaking the muscles both had. Theobold was taller, slimmer, but Rupert had a stockier build. Bronwyn knew she should have looked away but didn’t want to.

The knights watching declared Theobold the winner, and men and women clapped, laughing and talking. The young fighters both turned, Theobold to the loud cheers of the men and women present, Rupert to the silence of defeat.

As Theobold grinned and accepted their congratulations with thanks, he seemed to spot Bronwyn amongst the crowd. He’d handed his wooden sword away and had a linen shirt in hand. He’d been about to pull it over his head when he glanced at her.

She nodded to him, when there came a voice at her shoulder.

“Bronwyn. Looking for me? Did you see the fight?” Rupert said.

She turned. He looked handsome but very sweaty in the midday sun. “Yes. I’m sorry you lost.”

“It happens. I’ll beat him next time,” Rupert said with an easy smile. “I’m glad you came. Most women come here to watch Theobold, so it’s nice to have a real supporter. You’re not swayed by his pretty face. You’re smarter than that.”

Bronwyn bit her lip. “I—” she started, just as Theobold stood before her and interrupted.

“There you are. I thought I saw you standing there.” To Rupert, he said, “Oh, sorry, mate. She’s here to see me.”

Rupert’s eyes widened. “Is this true? You came looking for him?”

“I wanted to talk to him,” Bronwyn said.

“Oh.” Rupert’s shoulders slumped a fraction.

Bronwyn’s heart fell. She could practically feel his disappointment. How could she make it up to him without revealing her true feelings? Even though he was romancing Alice, she still cared.

Theobold shot Rupert a triumphant smile. He grinned as Rupert walked away, shaking his head.

“Ask away, beautiful,” Theobold said loudly.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes. “Stop that. This is important.”

He grinned. “It always is.” He flexed his arm muscles and used the plain, linen shirt in his hands to wipe the sweat from his face and neck.

The fact that he was shirtless had not gone unnoticed by Bronwyn, but she had no wish to give him the satisfaction of looking at his body. Besides, it felt rude. She kept her gaze fixed on his face. Unfortunately, this only made him smile more.

“What did you want to talk about? How much you like seeing me sweat?” he teased.

She shook her head. “The crown.”

His smile disappeared, and he put a hand to her back, guiding her away from the crowd. She tensed and felt her cheeks grow warm.

His voice grew quiet. “Leave it, Bronwyn. It’s done. Some little fool stole it. And when we find out who, they’ll wish they’d never left their mother’s womb.”

“So we know whoever took it likely thinks that without her crown, the empress won’t be able to be crowned ruler of England,” Bronwyn surmised. “They hope to prevent her taking the throne by literally denying her a crown to wear. What does the empress think of this?”

“You know as much as I do. She hopes to hide it from the camp entourage and the men. It’s no surprise to anyone that there are rebels here hiding among the people. But what they will do next is anyone’s guess.” He glanced at her. “Why do you care?”

She didn’t know. From what she had seen, the empress could be hard, blunt, and arrogant.

And yet there was another side of her. The empress had a way with people, if the man in the sick tent was any sign.

He and others seemed to view Empress Maud as not a woman, but a leader, and a powerful one at that.

And she couldn’t ignore the way the empress had come to talk to her at the campfire, woman to woman, almost as if they were equals.

She’d warned her, then raised her up as if she were important. It was dizzying.

“I spoke with Sir Edward. He says she was innocent. They were affianced. He says she’d never have stolen the crown, for she loved the empress.”

“He believes Sir Bors was lying?” He turned his head to the side.

She nodded. “But what I find most interesting is the smell.”

“What smell?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“When I entered the tent and found her dead, there was the scent of roses in the air, but there were no flowers in the tent, it is not the season for it. And Sir Edward tells me that Lady Eleanor never wore rosewater, only lavender scent.”

He frowned. Did his eyes flash with recognition?

“The smell doesn’t matter. The camp is full of odd smells. Likely, Sir Bors was dallying with a maidservant before the battle. You shouldn’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You asked for my help!”

He met her gaze. “Then stick to the facts. Fewer smells and more bodies. Sir Bors has been tasked with finding the crown, but I’ll wager there’s no telling where it’s gone. It may be fifty miles from here by now. Likely, that guard who fled took it.”

Bronwyn started to turn.

“Hey. Aren’t you going to stay?” Theobold asked. He pulled his shirt over his head.

She looked at him properly, noting how his broad shoulders filled out the shirt, and the way it pulled against the outline of his muscular arms. It was an enticing sight, and she looked away. “I’ve seen the show.”

He laughed, and she walked away, leaving him to his group of admirers.

Rupert soon found her. As the loser of the mock fight, fewer people wished to speak with him. Bronwyn sensed him as he fell into pace beside her.

“What was all that about?” he asked.

“I had a question for him.”

“What was it?” Rupert looked at her.

She opened her mouth to speak, then remembered the empress’s warning. “I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t? Just admit it, you like him,” Rupert said. He gave her an intense stare.

“It’s not that.” She paused and bit her lip. He thought Alice was beautiful, so why was he accusing her of liking another man?

“No? I saw the way you looked at him with his shirt off. You fancy him, don’t you?” Rupert let out a forceful breath.

“No.” Her lips pursed tightly. She didn’t dare speak the truth.

“Come on, you can tell me. I’m like a brother to you. Lady Alice said so.” He nudged her with his shoulder, and she missed a step, then nudged him back.

“What about you and Lady Alice? Are you two…?” She left it hanging, but her shoulders drooped. If only he didn’t view her as a sister.

He blushed and rubbed the side of his face. “That’s none of your business.”

Her heart fell a little, but she hid it behind a smile and thumped him on the shoulder.

They laughed and teased each other, joking around.

But as they parted ways, with him returning to the makeshift training ground and her to the cooking tents, she cast a look back at him, at his reddish-golden hair that shone in the sun.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell Rupert how she really felt about him. But it doesn’t matter , she thought bitterly. It wasn’t like she was able to compete with Lady Alice, anyway.

As she walked back to the servants and cooking area, she decided to instead focus on the mystery before her.

So there was a rival court amongst the people at camp.

That was no surprise. But why take such a risk, all to steal a crown, when people had died in the fight?

It did not seem right. To risk the lives of refugees like herself, of innocent women, children, old men, all to prevent a ruler from being crowned… It seemed wrong.

Bronwyn went to the makeshift cooking tents in the camp. They were little more than hastily constructed tables and pots and cauldrons hoisted over cooking fires. There was little to go around, but somehow, the people in the camp made it work.

One of the cooks had been injured in the battle and two of the scullery boys had died from the arrows, while others had been trampled underneath those fleeing the chaos.

Their numbers were fewer, but there were still so many of the servants. From one day to the next, the faces of the cooking staff changed, but the work remained the same.

Each day, they scavenged for herbs, set traps for animals, and collected and killed deer, rabbits, squirrels, wild hares, pheasants, ducks, and geese.

The pheasants were especially dumb, but their plumage was beautiful, and they used the long tail feathers to decorate the platters on which they served the food.

When the sun warmed the river enough to melt the ice, the men would fish, but it was still winter and the nights were cold, the animals often thin and scrawny.

Milk, butter, cream, and cheese were hard to come by, for cows were rare, unless the empress bought one.

Similarly with flour—they only used what they could buy from villagers and markets they passed by.

Empress Maud was quick to capitalize on this misfortune, often blaming King Stephen’s influence. As if he, a prisoner, were to blame for the scarce food, the poor harvest, and the lack of flour.