Chapter Nineteen

R eynard stood in the great hall, weighing his empty cup in his hand. He'd already drained it of its ale. Did he need another drink? Most likely not if he wished to keep his wits about him. 'Twould do no good to have his head pounding come the morn from indulging in too many spirits.

"I plan to rip that ribbon from your arm come the morrow, Norwood," a voice hissed beside him.

Lost in his thoughts, Reynard had not even heard the man's approach. "You can try, Morcant." He barely acknowledged the knight who was mayhap five years older than Reynard.

A grunt escaped the man. "I plan to do more than try. She was a fool to so obviously show where her affections lie. 'Tis like a beacon to every knight present to see who will be the first to take it from you."

Reynard glanced down at the dark blue ribbon with golden embroidery that he knew Elysande had slaved over. He had made the best attempt to launder the fabric since after only one day of wrestling matches, it had become soiled from when he'd rolled around in the dirt of the field.

"At least you all are aware whom she favors," Reynard said with a smirk, "and I will be the one who will wed with the lady." His gaze traveled to the dance floor where Elysande was finishing her dance with Lord Constantine.

"We shall see," Morcant muttered before a sly grin spread across his mouth. "In the meantime, I believe the next dance belongs to me. I will show you how a man handles a lady instead of what a mere boy is capable of."

Reynard lunged forward but was too late to grab a hold of Morcant's tunic. The knight gave a chuckle as he made his way to Elysande. Reynard could do nothing but watch from a distance when the pair went to begin the patterns of the next dance. He swore if Morcant's hand went any lower than Elysande's waist, Reynard would take great pleasure in removing his limb at the wrist.

"He only goads you, Norwood. Do not let him get the best of you," Warin drawled as though he had not a care in the world.

"Speaking from experience, Warin?" Reynard dared to ask. If anyone was competition for Elysande's hand, 'twas Constantine Warin. He was a favored knight with the empress and his estate was in close proximity of Oxford. What truly did Reynard have to offer his monarch besides the strength of his sword arm?

"If you cared to read the room, you would have noticed that Morcant has gone over to every single opponent this eve to goad and needle at them. His attempts to dig into my feelings for the lady and put me off the games come the morrow have been futile. But you are far younger than the rest of us so I suppose he thinks you are easier to manipulate."

"I have not been manipulated," grumbled Reynard and he thrust out his hand holding his empty tankard toward a servant who quickly filled his cup.

"If you say so, but by the looks of you I would say you are about ready to sever Morcant's head at the neck," laughed Warin. "Such an action might indeed be justifiable but mayhap you should not do something that vile during the evening meal."

"You know as well as I that the games are not to the death," Reynard answered whilst he continued to keep his eyes on Elysande.

"You and I may adhere to those rules, but others… perchance not so much. After all… the others are determined to win the tourney at any cost in order to win themselves a wife, her lands, and also the empress's favor." Warin continued to inspect Reynard and when he did not react he lifted his cup in a silent toast. "Keep it together, Norwood, and take out your frustrations at the game. Good eve to you."

Surprised that he seemingly had an ally of sorts with Warin, Reynard took several calming breaths. 'Twould do no good to cause a scene in front of the empress and as Warin said, he could take the matter up on the morrow on the field. He saw Hawke nod in Elysande's direction as her captain also keep close vigil over his charge. At least Reynard was not alone in his protectiveness with the woman. Now he only needed to survive the evening whilst watching Elysande dance with the victors of today's games. 'Twas going to be a long night.

*

Elysande pushed on the chest of the man who continued to pull their bodies far closer than the dance should have permitted.

"You will do well to remember you are under the close watch of… the empress," Elysande fumed but inwardly cursed herself when she realized she had about to utter Reynard's name. A hearty laugh was not what she expected to come pouring out from this man's mouth.

"I expect the empress is far too busy enjoying the evening's entertainment than to bother where I place my… hands," Gerold Morcant teased, pulling her forward so they were chest to chest. "You and I will be a fine-looking couple once we are wed."

"Looks are not everything, my lord. You will find that despite appearances, I am a very independent woman and not one to obediently sit in a solar with a bit of sewing whilst waiting for a man's return so I might serve him," she warned. The dangerous glint in his eyes caused her to halt anything further she might say, and she swallowed hard, feeling apprehensive.

"You can be anything you wish until we say our vows. After that, you will always remain under my control," he snapped before he masked his features into something that Elysande supposed was to be pleasantness. If that was his objective, he failed for there was nothing pleasant about this man.

"You presume much. What makes you think you will win against the others who also fight for my hand?" she dared to ask.

"I will win because I need the victory more than any other," Gerold proclaimed with a forced smile. It must have galled him to admit he needed something from a mere woman.

"You mean you need my lands and whatever monies the empress will give me as a dowry," she hissed.

"Is there any other reason why I would take you to wife? You may be beautiful, Elysande, but so are a dozen other women here at court."

"Then marry one of them and leave me be," she ordered, attempting once more to place some distance from him without success.

"You will soon learn your place in my life. Until then, I do so enjoy a challenge. Now let us enjoy the rest of our dance together before the next man comes to claim you."

Mentally, she cursed this pompous arse to hell and back! But when she espied the empress watching closely, she forced her frown into a smile as though she was actually enjoying the moment of dancing with Gerold Morcant. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

The music thankfully died away and she quickly fled from Lord Gerold's side even whilst she heard his amused chuckle. How would she ever survive the next six evenings plastering a smile upon her face to appear as if she enjoyed herself? After only one night, she was already at her wits' end. Yet, what else could she do? The empress had made up her mind and the events that were to come needed to be played out for everyone's benefit but Elysande's.

As she left the middle of the dance floor, Hawke quickly came to her and thrust a chalice into her hand.

"You appear as though you are in need of a drink," he said calmly. "'Tis a good thing the dance ended. I was about to interrupt if that cur continued to manhandle you."

"I wish you would have, although I suppose such would not have gone over well with our empress. I wish this insanity was over and Reynard…" Her words trailed away and she swore she would not break down in tears at the prospect that she would be forced to wed another.

"You care for him." 'Twas a simple statement that spoke volumes.

"Aye."

"You could petition the empress and ask—"

"I tried without success. She seems bent on having Reynard prove to her his worth," she declared with a sob.

"Bah! Norwood has already done so or he would not be asked to accompany the empress whenever she travels. He is privy to the goings-on in the kingdom far more than most here," Hawke proclaimed, scowling.

"There are others who also are just as close to the empress. Richard Grancourt for one," she answered softly.

"Grancourt is not participating in the games. His readiness to serve the empress is not in question nor can he be numbered with the men who are attempting to win your hand," Hawke reminded her.

"Some of them are… obnoxious, to put it nicely," she replied and then took a sip of her wine. The liquid slid down her throat and hit her stomach reminding her she had barely supped this eve. She had been so upset at the prospect of what would happen tonight that she had given up earlier trying to swallow any food. If she was not careful, the wine would go straight to her head and then where would she be?

"You will come to me if any of them become too forward, Elysande. I care not what the empress says. I am still your captain and am sworn to protect you. I will not have you sullied by some overeager man bent on wedding you whether or not he wins the games. This includes Norwood. Do you understand me?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aye," she said before continuing, "but 'twill not come to that."

A lock of his blond-brown hair fell over his forehead and she reached up to push it back into place. She cupped his cheek but briefly before she returned her gaze back to the audience in the room. Everyone seemed to be watching her every move. It exhausted her to be on such public display.

The empress stood and the minstrels struck up a chord. Those in the great hall halted their conversations.

"Today's games have for the most part been a large success. As you all saw, several knights have been injured during the games and are no longer in the running for Lady Elysande's hand. On the morrow, we shall learn who will live to see the next day. But I will proclaim a champion for his efforts for this day. He shall have the pleasure of the last dance with Lady Elysande."

The empress began to survey the crowd and Elysande's eyes met Reynard's across the room. He gave a brief nod of his head and she returned the gesture before her attention returned to the empress. She held her breath waiting to hear Reynard's name…

"Lord Constantine Warin, Earl of Charlbury," the empress's voice rang out, causing several groans to be heard amongst the men even whilst Elysande's heart fell. "Come and claim your dance with the beautiful lady!"

Lord Constantine came to bow before the empress before his attention turned to find Elysande. When their eyes met and held, she swore all the color left her face whilst her gaze became unfocused. Elysande quickly turned, covering her mouth until she heard Hawke whisper in her ear to hold herself together. She squared her shoulders and placed another false smile on her lips hoping it at the very least appeared welcoming.

Lord Constantine came and lifted her hand high until they reached the middle of the vacant floor—no others would join them in the last dance of the evening. As the music began, she was expertly maneuvered through the patterns of the dance by a man who apparently knew how to court a lady. 'Twas a shame that this particular man was the wrong one for he would never be able to make her heart sing.