Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Six weeks later

Blackchurch Training Grounds

H e had her around the neck.

It was her own fault. She'd been concentrating so much on trying to take down a man twice her size that she'd missed the part where he simply outwitted her and ended up putting her in a headlock.

Damnation!

Athdara immediately surrendered and dropped her weapon. Unless she wanted Fox to snap her neck, she had little choice. She could hear him snorting in her ear as he let her go and gave her a shove, pushing her away from him.

"You are letting your emotions get the better of you," he said. "Emotions will cloud your judgment every time. You cannot let that anger find its way into your movements or you are going to get yourself killed."

Athdara sighed sharply. They'd been at it since before sunrise. Fox, the master of defense and weapon usage, was her trainer these days. She'd been with him for a couple of weeks, ever since her training session with Tay had finished. He'd run her until she dropped and forced her to lug rocks around to build up her strength, but even a scant four weeks later, she was in better physical condition than she'd been in her life. Her body had responded well to the grueling exertion and good food.

That meant her fight against Fox had been a long one.

"How is it possible that I cannot use emotions to fuel my actions?" she asked as she bent over to pick up the broadsword she'd been using. "It should make my actions stronger because I have a stake in what I am doing."

Fox looked at her, amused. "If you fight like a woman, you will not survive."

With a growl, Athdara rushed him. Fox went into a defensive stance, but Athdara did something unusual at that point—she was running so quickly that he was bracing for an impact that never came. Instead, she came to within a few feet of him, fell to her knees, and skidded beneath his leveled sword. That meant she bashed into his legs and reached up, pinching the inside of his right thigh to simulate a strike, but Fox was faster—he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her onto her back.

For a moment, they simply looked at one another.

"I struck first," she said, breathing heavily.

"I killed first."

"I could have killed you first."

Fox paused. Then he grinned and removed his hand from her throat, reaching down to pull her off the ground.

"That was a good move, but reckless," he said. "If you are going to do that with a man, you'd better shove a dagger into his ballocks immediately, or he will kill you."

Athdara was still breathing heavily with exertion and exhaustion. After hours of this, she was growing weary. "If I'd shoved a dagger into your… your privates, then we would not be having this discussion," she said. "Can you not admit I bested you at least once?"

"Nay," Fox said flatly. "Because you did not. I could see it in your face that you were going to do something out of the ordinary. An opponent can read your features, Athdara. If it is in a life-or-death situation, he will be able to see what you're going to do if you do not keep the emotion from your face. A Shadow Knight does not betray what he is thinking."

She shrugged, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I cannot lose my rage," she said. "I must learn to work with it. I must learn to use it."

"Or you must learn to mask it." Another voice entered the conversation as Tay walked up behind her. When she turned to look at him, smiling, he fought off a grin and looked to Fox. "Is she using fury instead of reason again?"

Fox nodded, handing his sword over to one of his helpers. "She is," he said. "But I will break her of it."

Tay looked at Athdara with feigned disapproval. "I saw what she did as I walked up," he said. "That was a good move, but she did not surprise you too much. If I had done it, I would have slid between your legs and come up behind you with a dagger to the back. She stopped too soon."

Athdara put her hands on her hips, irritated. "If I'd had a dagger and he'd truly been an enemy, I would have rammed it up his—"

Tay cut her off, holding up a hand. "No need to be so detailed for delicate ears," he said, though his lips were twitching with a grin. "I understand perfectly. So does Fox. But you must listen to him. You cannot fight with emotion or it will be your undoing. If an enemy knows he can upset you, he has already won the battle."

Properly chastised, Athdara didn't immediately agree or even hint that she understood them, even though she did. Her features twisted in an unhappy expression, she simply lowered her gaze and adjusted the leather guard she was wearing on her forearm. The leather prevented her forearms from being nicked to pieces by Fox's sword.

Tay and Fox watched her lowered head for a moment before turning to each other and struggling not to smile. They both appreciated this stubborn, tough woman who refused to admit when she was wrong. They understood something about that type of character, since they were from the same mold.

"What brings you here?" Fox said, changing the subject. "I thought you had a new recruit class."

Tay nodded. "I do," he said. "The new group started today, and the group I've been working with for the past six weeks has moved on to other exercises with Bowen. This new group is running."

"God, I hated that," Athdara said. When the two of them looked over at her, she shrugged. "Running, I mean. Nothing is worse that running around the damnable lake over and over again while Tay's men stand in the bushes and throw rocks at you if you are not moving fast enough."

Tay cocked an eyebrow. "It worked, didn't it?" he said. "You picked up your pace."

Athdara tried not to laugh. "As if I had a choice," she said. "I ended up outrunning every man you have."

Tay pointed toward the lake. "Then show them how it is done," he said. "Go. That is not a request."

Athdara wasn't laughing anymore. In fact, she was verging on a temper tantrum now that Tay was ordering her back into the stampede. She was weary from a day of training with Fox, but Tay wasn't about to give her any rest.

She knew better than to argue with him.

Without another word, she dropped both of the leather arm guards and took off running, heading toward the lake. It was nearing sunset, and the water was glimmering like diamonds, signaling the end of what had been a temperate day.

Tay and Fox watched her go.

"Christ, she's stubborn," Fox muttered. "Was she like that with you?"

"Every damn day."

Fox chuckled, low in his throat. "She is stubborn and intelligent and fights with her heart. Every inch of her heart."

Tay watched those long legs as they headed down the hill and her braid waved back and forth like a banner.

"She has a big one," he said quietly. "A big one and a strong one. How is she doing otherwise?"

Fox nodded. "Well enough," he said, turning toward the north because something caught his attention. "She'll do well if she listens. She is eager to learn and does what she is told, but she has her moments when she thinks she knows better than I do."

"I have met that side of her as well," Tay said, catching sight of what had Fox's attention. "Ah, it's Kristian. Did you see what happened to his class today?"

Fox nodded as he started laughing. Kristian Heldane, the trainer known as the Viking, strolled across the green grass toward his friends and comrades. Long-legged, strong, with a crown of luscious blond hair that tumbled past his shoulders, Kristian looked every inch a Nordic god of old.

"Well?" Tay said. "Were you singed today?"

Kristian gave him a lopsided smile. "You saw what happened?"

Both Tay and Fox nodded. "We all did," Tay said. "How could we miss that dark smoke rising from the north end of Lake Cocytus?"

Kristian tried not to look embarrassed. "We always have fires on the cogs so the men will know how to handle a fire shipboard, but one of the trainees fell into the fire and ended up spreading the embers all over the deck," he said. "Burned the damn boat down. Right now, the entire group of trainees is pulling the blackened hull from the lake. Clumsy idiots."

Tay and Fox laughed softly. "I am surprised that has not happened more often," Tay said. "Not all men are steady on the water."

"That is the truth," Kristian said. "Like you, Tay. I seem to remember someone turning green the last time he worked a group with me."

Tay couldn't deny it as Fox laughed. "Do you see my feet?" he said, pointing to his shoes. "They are standing on the dirt. That is where they belong—on the dirt."

"How in the hell did you survive going to the Levant?" Kristian asked, incredulous. "Richard went by way of the sea."

Tay shook his head. "He did, but I did not," he said. "I went by way of land. It took longer, but there was no possibility that I was getting on a ship."

Kristian grinned. "That is a pity," he said. "You would have made a magnificent Northman."

Tay jabbed a finger at him. "Cease your flattery," he said. "I am still not getting on a ship."

"Can't you swim?"

"Of course I can. I simply do not like it."

Kristian and Fox laughed at Tay's expense, but Tay ignored them. His gaze was over at the lake as he watched the recruits run in the distance.

"I must say that the newest group of dregs had some of the most ill-suited hopefuls I have ever seen," he said, shifting the focus away from him and his non-seaworthiness. "Have you seen them?"

Fox shook his head. "I do not pay any attention to the dregs," he said. "By the time they get to me, the unworthy have been weeded out by Tay and Sin."

He was looking at what had Tay's attention, and Kristian came up next to them, peering at the men running in the distance.

"I saw you training with the de Ghent woman, Fox," he said. "How is she coming along?"

Fox was watching the men in the distance, the sunset, the land in general. "I was just telling Tay that she will do well if she listens," he said. "She's stubborn, that one. But she is strong, and she is fierce. She must understand a fighting man and why he fights before she can command one."

Kristian shook his head. "We take years to train our men," he said. "Suddenly, we must train a woman in far less time? I wonder how well trained she will truly be."

Tay glanced at him. "She will be trained enough," he said. "She learns quickly. Moreover, she will not be leading the battle. If one of her father's allies agrees to lead the charge to regain Breda Castle, I do not see her being in command."

"Then why all the training?"

"So she can understand everything that is being undertaken on her behalf," Tay said. "And after the Breda Castle is reclaimed, she will need to build an army again."

Kristian looked at him. "Did you ever stop to think that whoever helps her regain her castle might simply claim it for their own?" he said. "Lord Exmoor is taking a great chance by seeking allies to regain her father's duchy. What if they decide to stay? She would have done better with a mercenary army, one she can control and who will not stake a claim."

Tay had thought of that, to be truthful. Even a well-meaning army could turn greedy, or worse—think Athdara was incapable of rebuilding her family's legacy.

But that was where everyone would be wrong. She was more than capable.

Over the past six weeks, Tay had seen just how gifted Athdara was. She was his ward, that was true, but as the days and weeks passed, she'd become far more than that. When he first brought her into his cottage, it had been for several reasons. That first day or two, with the threat of bounty hunters, had been uneasy days. The death of St. Gerard had made the situation even more volatile.

There had been a time when Tay thought St. Denis might evict Athdara because he'd been grieving so heavily, perhaps blaming her for what happened to his son, but that never came to pass. Days went by after the death of St. Gerard, and Tay waited for the command to come, but it never had. Things settled down. Tay had once promised Athdara that he would ask St. Denis about sending for her little brother, but now was not the right time. Not so soon after the loss of St. Gerard. Therefore, Athdara simply began her training as they'd planned.

Blackchurch continued on as it usually did.

But something had changed.

It was strange to realize just how much things had changed. As St. Denis and St. Sebastian essentially retreated into Exford Castle, hardly seen or heard from, the trainers more or less took command of Blackchurch. Everything went on as it usually did. Hopefuls became dregs and dregs became recruits. There were new dreg groups monthly, and at the end of four weeks, there was a new trainee class. Sometimes there were only five or six new trainees. Sometimes there were thirty. That varied depending on how many dregs they had or if there were even any worthy candidates, but the most important thing was that life went on.

Blackchurch went on.

Tay and Athdara went on.

It all started with that barren cottage he'd brought her to. Between Athdara and Marina, the place had been scrubbed from top to bottom and made to look like a proper home. Athdara came down from the attic and took the bedchamber that faced the back of the house, while Marina took the attic. They'd found Marina a bed, and both ladies wardrobes and trunks—which was a good thing, considering the belongings Athdara now found herself in possession of.

Tay had seen to that.

During a visit to Tiverton, he'd found a seamstress and purchased Athdara several pre-made garments that had then been sewn to fit. He'd purchased soaps and combs and oils. He'd purchased shoes from the tanner and cloaks and scarves from a merchant. He'd purchased so many things that by the time he was finished, Athdara had more possessions than she'd ever had in her life, things fit for a queen. But all she ever wore were the breeches he'd purchased for her, because she couldn't very well train in a surcoat, and tunics that hung down to her knees. But there was no disguising the feminine figure that lay beneath.

Tay noticed it more by the day.

He noticed her .

The stolen kisses between them never stopped. In fact, Tay was rather aggressive in stealing them, but only when they were alone. Never if there was a hint of anyone around. When Marina went to bed, he would try to coerce Athdara from her chamber—and sometimes, it worked. He would take her down into the common room of the cottage, which was now full of chairs, stools, tables, and two couches that had come from empty cottages that hadn't been lived in for years. They were built of wood and iron, flat with a type of latticed bottom, and then arms on either end that were slightly raised. Athdara had put blankets on them to make them more comfortable, and Tay always took her to one of the couches, where he would draw her into his embrace and hold her as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

They would sit that way for hours.

From the moment they first met those weeks ago in The Black Cock, there had been something between them that could not be denied. Even when he didn't know who she was and she didn't know who he was, the attraction was evident. Tay was drawn to her as he'd never been drawn to anyone in his life, and Athdara succumbed to him easily. That broken heart he'd suffered from the careless merchant's daughter had long since healed. In those nights when they would sit on the couch and embrace, he would speak of his time training, of his time away from home, and of the mother and brother he missed.

Athdara had learned a great deal from him during those rare and peaceful moments.

One of the main things she learned was that Tay was a titled lord—Lord Alness. He'd inherited the title and the lands when his father died, but the small offshoot of Clan Munro that his family was part of was helmed by his father's elder brother as the clan chief. Tay's title had been granted to his father as a young man, and now it belonged to Tay—along with a fortified manor home in Dalmore where his mother and brother lived. He sent money to them on a regular basis for the care of his brother, who had been injured at birth. He couldn't see or walk, but he could hear. According to Tay, he was a joyful lad. Tay sent money to make sure Garry had everything he needed, but he had no desire to return to Scotland.

As it turned out, Tay was more English than Scots. He'd spent most of his life in England, and he simply associated himself with the English more than the Scots. His mother, as Athdara had known, was from the ancient city of Athens, and Tay had even visited Athens to become acquainted with his mother's family, but that was where any association ended. He was a man of different blood, both Scottish and Greek, but his soul, his training, was English. Oddly enough, however, he wasn't confused about his identity. He knew very well who he was.

He was a knight and a trainer.

He was Blackchurch.

That was all he needed to know.

Athdara had learned a great deal about the man, wrapped up in his arms and watching the fire flicker as he told her stories of his youth. She'd spent the past two years completely alone, fighting for every little thing she had, but the past several weeks had seen something odd happen to her—a sense of belonging. There were people who cared about her, who would help her. She belonged to something larger than herself. To someone she was mad about. She hadn't felt that kind of joy and peace in a very long time.

Athdara was finding her worth in life.

Therein lay the problem. The more the days passed, the more attached she became to Tay, and he to her. They were establishing a life at Blackchurch even though neither of them really realized it. They had never moved beyond kissing or some heavy fondling, because he would stop her when their passionate kissing became too intimate, so it wasn't as if he was determined to bed her. He simply never let it go that far, even though they did live in the same house and things between them became quite heated and sexy at times. Marina was always there, always between them during the day or at any other time when she was awake, but at night the woman slept heavily, and Tay and Athdara took advantage of that. But Tay knew that, at some point, they would end up in his bed.

It was something that both excited him and frightened him.

The physical aspect, he could handle. But the emotional one…

Tay could see the change in Athdara, too. The beaten, weary, scrappy woman he'd first met had become focused, determined, and strong. Her self-confidence was something to behold. She no longer looked as if she was being hunted, but that had taken some time. The fact that they'd killed a bounty hunter two days into her training had damaged her psyche somewhat, but she'd recovered. Even though the second bounty hunter escaped, she'd become confident in the fact that he wasn't a threat. As long as she was surrounded by Tay and his friends, no one could harm her, and she understood that. As Tay had seen from the beginning, the woman was a survivor. She was kind, gentle, and sweet, but she was also stubborn, indomitable, and clever.

And he was absolutely in love with her.

"Did you hear me, Tay?" Kristian said, breaking into his thoughts.

Tay stirred, trying to remember the last words spoken. "What about?" he said. "Why she didn't simply hire a mercenary army?"

Kristian nodded. "Among other things," he said. "What if her father's allies decide to take Breda for themselves?"

Tay shrugged, his gaze on the runners in the distance now that the sun was almost down and the torches were beginning to come out. "Hopefully, whoever agrees to help her will be a man of honor," he said. "Lord Exmoor has made it clear that we cannot interfere, so there is only so much we can control. She is strong and she is capable, Kris. You do not know her like I do."

That was an understatement. Kristian and Fox exchanged glances at the comment. All of the trainers knew that Tay was in love with the woman, even though he'd never said a word about it. He'd never even hinted at affection toward her. But there was something in his tone when he spoke of her and something adoring in the way he looked at her that revealed everything in his heart. Therefore, he didn't have to say a word. They knew.

And they were worried. The last time a woman wounded Tay's heart, he'd been a bear to live with, and the relationship with the merchant's daughter hadn't even been that serious. But with Athdara, they were concerned with what could happen to Tay should the duke's daughter somehow hurt him. Crush him, even. Fox had once told Tay that he believed his pride had been damaged by the merchant's daughter more than his heart. But with Athdara, his heart was the most vulnerable thing about him.

They could all see it.

"Mayhap I do not know her like you do," Kristian said after a moment. "I've not had the honor to train her yet, but I will tell you this—she is the finest example of a shield maiden I have ever seen."

Tay looked at him. "A shield maiden?" he repeated. Then he shook his head. "Nay, lad. She's more than a shield maiden. Those are mortal women, mortal warriors. Athdara… She is a Valkyrie."

Kristian grinned. "Aye," he said. "I suppose so. There is something otherworldly about her, though I doubt she would bring mead to the fallen warriors in Valhalla. She would drink alongside them. She would have earned her place at the table with them."

Tay nodded. "I've often wondered whose heaven really exists," he said. "Is it my God's? Is my heaven a place with golden palaces? Or is it a giant hall like Valhalla, where the dead live forever and women bring them drink and food?"

Kristian laughed softly. "Someday, we shall find out," he said. "I hope we end up in the same place."

"So do I."

Since the sun was going down, Fox's men had brought out some torches so they could collect the weapons he'd been using with Athdara. The time was coming for them to retire for the evening, and, realizing that, Kristian picked up a small dagger near his foot and handed it over to Fox.

"I came for a reason," he said. "Tomorrow, I will have two boats alongside one another. Usually, Triton's Hellions pay me a visit to help with this portion of the training, but Lord Exmoor tells me they are off in Ireland somewhere. Therefore, I would like you to be there to help me demonstrate boarding an enemy vessel."

Fox nodded. "When?"

"In the morning."

"I will come."

"Good," Kristian said. Reaching out, he slapped Tay on the shoulder as he turned back the way he'd come. "Are you sure you will not help, Tay?"

"Get out of here before I tie you to a rock and sink you like one of your ships."

Kristian started laughing. "Good eve to you both, then."

They waved him off as he headed into the dusk. At that point, Fox's men had collected all of his weapons, and he began loosening his gloves.

"The day is finished, my friend," he said. "Will you join us for the evening meal?"

Tay nodded. "Indeed," he said. "I will see you later."

They separated.

As Fox headed toward Eastmoor, Tay headed down to the lake, where his men were bringing the runners in. It would soon grow too dark to see, so the laps had ended for the night, and that included Athdara. She was just coming down the long stretch next to the eastern side of the lake, her long legs churning, when Tay regrouped with his men. In addition to Bowen, there were five other men who helped corral and train the recruits. Those men were out along the portion of the lake where Athdara was running, yelling at the men to hurry and finish.

Athdara finally slowed down, coming to a halt as Tay crooked a finger at her and motioned her over. Breathing heavily from her sprint around the lake, she came to stand next to him as the rest of the recruits stumbled in. With the remaining few finally finishing, Tay turned to her.

"Go back to the cottage," he said quietly. "I will only be a few moments, and then I will meet you there. Where is Marina?"

"I do not know," Athdara said breathlessly. "She is training with the Swordsman these days. I assume they have finished also."

Tay looked around. "Probably," he said. "Though Sin may have them over on the dirt practice field."

"Where they have dozens of torches to light up the night?"

"That one," Tay said. He gave her a rather lascivious look before continuing. "He will work them into the night if enough torches are lit. Hopefully she is not finished yet. In any case, go back to the cottage and I shall see you there shortly."

He winked at her, thinking no one could see him, and she fought off a grin. It was a game they played, and they played it quite often. Tay thought he was being clever when the truth was that those with sharp eyes would catch him winking at her now and again.

Dutifully, Athdara headed off toward Eastmoor, and it was a struggle for Tay not to watch her go. He very much wanted to. He loved to watch her graceful moves, the curve of her body. But he turned his attention to the recruits now gathered in front of him.

This was a smaller recruit class than they usually had because the dregs, as of late, simply hadn't been very good. They ran dreg classes monthly, but sometimes the recruit groups would be two or three months' worth of dregs because of the lack of quality. They only had four good recruits out of the most recent dregs group—two brothers who had been formally trained at Okehampton Castle and who were fully fledged knights seeking to advance their prospects as Blackchurch-trained men, one farmer's son who was enormous and strong and had great endurance but no real skill set, and one older man who had been surprisingly adept at any of the exercises given. He was from Flanders but was quiet and unassuming.

Tay made a point of coming to know the characteristics of every recruit group he trained. Coming to know the men, he was better able to inform the subsequent trainer, which was usually Sinclair, about their strengths or weaknesses. The two brother knights didn't seem to have any real weaknesses other than they were very competitive with everyone around them, and the farm boy simply needed to learn. The older recruit from Flanders had some skills with his hands and was quick on his feet. Those four added to the small group Tay found himself facing as Athdara disappeared into the deepening dusk.

"You have all put in a week of hard work," Tay said loudly. "Think not that it shall become any easier from this point forward. It is my job to condition you for what is to come, so this will be a class where we will test your physical stamina and strength. Any man who cannot walk away from any exercise he is given will be eliminated. This rule holds true for every class you will endure at Blackchurch. There are no second chances. Listen to your trainers and do what you are told, and you shall succeed. Lose focus and you shall fail."

With that, he turned to Bowen and nodded briefly, and Bowen dismissed the group. Slowly, they moved, but Tay wasn't paying attention. He was already heading back to Eastmoor and to Athdara, who would hopefully be alone when he reached the cottage. Although he appreciated having Marina around—and, truthfully, he'd come to like the woman who had lived in a world of men all of her life and in some ways was more of a man than some males he knew—he appreciated it more when she wasn't around and he and Athdara could find a few moments alone together.

Those moments were coming to consume him.

As Tay nearly ran back to Eastmoor and Bowen and Tay's other men herded the recruits back in the direction of the cloister, no one seemed to notice how one of the newest recruits was carefully watching Tay. Like a hawk, he was watching him. The new recruit from Flanders seemed to show a particular interest in everything Tay was doing. That sharp notice began the moment he saw a tall, elegant woman talking to Tay.

The very woman he'd been seeking.

Darwish had worked hard to get into the new recruit class. It had taken him two weeks to figure out how to get into Blackchurch, and, on a whim, he committed to dreg training because it seemed to be the only way he could enter Blackchurch. They didn't need any more soldiers, as he'd found out, and those who traveled in and out were thoroughly checked. He'd found that out, too, when he tried to enter a couple of days after Kane's death without any real reason to be in Blackchurch other than he wanted to go in. The soldiers at the south gate had nearly run him through.

But he'd regrouped.

He'd figured out a way.

Now, he was in training to become a Blackchurch warrior, and on his second day as a recruit, after the rigorous four weeks of dreg training, he caught sight of the very woman he'd been hoping to find. He knew Athdara de Ghent on sight because he'd seen her once, up close, when he and Kane ambushed her in Amesbury. He wasn't sure if she could recognize him, but he didn't think so. She'd been clever enough to get away then, but she wouldn't escape this time.

Darwish had already decided that he was simply going to kill her and take her head back to Atilla for the reward money. Trying to abduct her and carry her back was impractical because she would fight him all the way. Moreover, she seemed to have some connection with Blackchurch, and Darwish didn't want those trainers to come down on him like they had on Kane.

Aye, he recognized several Blackchurch trainers as the knights who had murdered Kane. He wanted to avoid them at all costs.

One thing he'd wrestled with as of late was the second de Ghent sibling—the younger brother—but he'd not seen or heard of the boy in quite some time. Chances were that the child was already dead, so he convinced himself that he couldn't worry about the boy. But Athdara… She was all that stood between him and the riches Kane had wanted so desperately.

Now, they were going to be Darwish's.

Though she was at Blackchurch, he honestly wasn't sure why. She had been talking to the trainer known as the Leviathan, so it was possible she served him. It was equally possible she was his whore. Or it was possible that she had another function at Blackchurch and had found employment here. Whatever it was, he was going to find out what her function was, how much freedom she had, and then he was going to select the right moment to corner her. He'd come to the end of a very long journey, and he was a man with nothing to lose. And everything to gain.

From this point on, Athdara de Ghent was, once again, the hunted.

Unlike Kane, Darwish wouldn't fail.