Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

A s the men filed inside, Elara looked at each of them more closely. Could one of them truly be their traitor? They'd been carefully selected based on their known support for Matilda's cause. But if not one of the recruits, that left one of the servants, who had also been meticulously selected.

Or one of the instructors or nobles who funded them.

That last group Elara all but eliminated. None would pour this kind of coin into their operation only to implode it from within. As she'd told Alden last eve, Elara trusted Eamon with her life. But Stirling? Not nearly as much, if at all. Though his dislike of her had more to do with Stirling's feelings toward court politics and maneuvering, and less with her personally. Even so, they'd not gotten on from the start, and she could not shake a sense of unease around him.

Unlike the man who just walked into the chamber.

All morn she'd chastised herself for the breach of conduct last eve. Staring at his forearms and hands throughout their discussion had finally worn on her. The desire to touch him, to feel the strength of those hands...it had consumed her. Even now, knowing what she'd done was wrong, she wished to touch him again.

And yet, I am glad you did.

That he desired her made restraint more difficult. That she'd not so much as looked at another since coming to Blackwood was of no consequence. She could not be distracted from her task, nor could she risk her position here for a man.

But what a man he was. As Alden sat, smiling at something Sir Darien said beside him, Elara had to force herself to look away. His mere presence, even from across the chamber, made her feel things she had not before. Not surrounded by capable, skilled knights. Not before she'd come here, not at court.

Never.

"Know thy enemy," she said, to begin instruction. "What does this phrase mean to you?"

"Pardon me, my lady."

Elara startled. Father Percival, a priest from the neighboring town of Kindridge Moor, stood at the entranceway. She'd met him only once before but recognized the man who had married Gareth and Evelina in secret as a favor to Sir Eamon. Just this morn Elara had broken her fast with Evelina and Amalia, though she rarely saw either woman. The two spent much of their time in the village at Amalia's herb shop, which she would keep while here at Blackwood. It had been a dream of hers, such a shop, and with the current stalemate between King Stephen and Matilda, it did not appear any of them would be leaving soon. Amalia planned to transport its contents to Greyridge Castle, Roland's home, when their mission was complete and Blackwood was no longer needed.

"A moment?" he asked with all heads turned upon him.

Elara stood from the stool and hurried toward the older gentleman.

"Father?" she asked, as he ushered them into the corridor.

"I've taken up residence in the chapel," he said. "Father Ekheart took a position at Cambridge."

Elara remembered hearing as much, that their resident priest at Blackwood would be unable to remain with them. There had been talk of bringing in Father Percival, as Eamon had known him for many years and he was sympathetic to Matilda, but she had not heard anything since he needed permission from the church to change positions.

"Welcome to Castle Blackwood," she said, wondering why he chose to come to her now.

"Thank you, my child. Apologies for interrupting your instruction, but Sir Eamon thought it best I address each group of young men during their training today."

She waved a hand, indicating he should step inside.

"They are yours, Father," she said as he stepped forward.

"Young men, Guardians of the Sacred Oak." His voice was surprisingly strong. "I am Father Percival and have taken up residence at Blackwood's chapel. I would expect you to continue attending mass each morning, in addition to Saturn's Day, and welcome you to confessions at your earliest convenience."

A murmur of "Welcome, Father" and "Aye, Father" greeted his words.

He nodded, apparently pleased, and gave Elara a quick nod. "I am to go next to the training yard. Good day, my lady. And pardon again my interruption."

"Good day, Father."

Striding back to her stool, Elara did not glance at Alden as she passed, even though she wished to. Neither did she look at him as she resumed her lesson.

"So then, know thy enemy?"

"Is a call for vigilance," Sir Aldric Langley called out.

Sir Aldric. Could a man whose father had very publicly declared for Matilda possibly be their traitor?

"Indeed," she said, "but more than that too."

Sir Aldric shrugged his shoulders.

Elara looked around the room. Her gaze rested . . . on him.

Alden's lips parted slightly, as if his thoughts were similar to her own. She'd dreamed of kissing him again and woke alone, disappointed, in her bed. Having him alone in her bedchamber had not snuffed the fire between them, but instead stoked it.

Elara should not have chosen him. But she had, and was now forced to face the consequences of her actions.

"By studying our enemies," Alden said, not breaking eye contact with her, "we can predict their movements, exploit their weaknesses, and turn the tides in our favor."

And he was intelligent. Alden would make a fine knight, and she suddenly hoped, very much, he attained such a goal.

"You are correct," she said, her gaze moving on and sweeping the chamber. "This ancient adage is not just a call for vigilance but a comprehensive approach to understanding every facet of those who oppose us. Consider the Battle of Hastings. William the Conqueror did not triumph by sheer force alone. He meticulously studied King Harold's strategies, waited for the right moment when Harold's troops were weary from prior engagements, and then struck with calculated precision. This is the power of knowledge and foresight."

She avoided him for the remainder of the lesson.

Focusing on the recruits' answers, she now chose the topics as a way to delve deeper into the minds of those before her, and Elara reminded herself of the stakes if the traitor was not uncovered.

When the lesson was over, she resisted the urge to ask him to stay. Elara did allow herself a final glance as Alden disappeared through the open chamber door.

But he didn't go before looking at her one last time.

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to redirect her mind back to the task at hand. With no additional lessons until after the midday meal, she planned to speak to the steward to ensure there were no more inventories to audit and devise a plan to more closely monitor communications.

Her feet, however, did not seem as willing to move as her mind. Instead, she sat on the stool, staring out into the corridor where Alden had disappeared, imagining him coming to her chamber that eve. One thought led to another until finally Elara shook her head, cleared her mind, and stood, banishing thoughts of a handsome blacksmith's son from mind.

She'd been waiting for the knock all day.

From the moment Elara woke with visions of Alden still on her mind, to the lesson, to her coming upon him and Gareth, laughing, in the great hall earlier, she'd anticipated this. Unfortunately, she had naught to report. It would be a short meeting.

"Good eve," she said, opening the small door. Alden ducked through it.

"And to you," he said as Elara fetched them both a goblet of wine. It was customary, and she'd entertained many people in her antechamber before, both here at Blackwood and at court. But it had never felt as intimate as this, likely because Elara had never had such thoughts about her companion. She'd desired men, even kissed a few of them.

But Alden was different.

"You've entertained many times," he said, accepting the wine and echoing her thoughts.

Alden appeared much the same as last eve, with one difference. His hair was still damp, tousled in a way that made him even more appealing, if such a thing were possible. She knew the men used the nearby river to bathe, despite the chill. There were not enough servants to heat and carry buckets of water for so many men, though most did not complain. Only a few of the wealthier recruits had done so and earned an earful from Lord Stirling for it.

"Many, many times," she said sitting.

Alden did the same, nodding to the fire. "You temporarily dismissed your maid, yet have a fire?"

"Do you think," she teased him, "that because I lived at court I cannot tend to my own fire?"

"Touché," he said. "Now that we have established that I can read and you can tend to a fire..." Alden's smile did little to calm her racing pulse. "Have you learned anything this day?"

"Sadly, I have not. If there are discrepancies within Pembroke's ledgers, they are well concealed. I met with the council earlier as well, and we agreed 'twould be too risky to break open any sealed correspondence, though we were less united on that which is not sealed. Some wished to read all that comes within the castle walls, others do not believe such a breach warranted. In the end, we decided only to read anything that may seem suspicious, as deemed by Pembroke, since he sorts all of it."

Alden frowned. "That is unlikely to yield any results."

"Very unlikely. As I said, we were not all in agreement on this matter. Have you learned anything?"

"Only that Lyra, the new archer, seems to have a quarrel with Sir Corwin deMonteforte. Of all the knights, he seems to be the most zealous to Matilda's cause, so I asked the other recruits about her."

"Our only female recruit." She liked it not. Elara had been pleased when Stirling and Eamon had brought her to Blackwood. A skilled archer from a family of loyalists, that she was the only female recruit seemed not to bother the young woman in any way. She was also the newest recruit, so although Elara had quickly taken to her, she could admit to knowing her the least of any others.

"Aye. I am not pleased about the matter either."

Elara looked up from the wine that she'd been peering into. "Nay?"

"I've a very competent mother and younger sister who would be keen to learn that a woman, two with yourself included, fought for our cause."

Loyal. Handsome. Strong. Intelligent. Enlightened.

Each day she spent with Alden, Elara learned something more about the man she liked. But she knew well, all men, and women too, had faults. What were his?

"I am glad to hear it," she said. "Aught else?"

"Only that Gareth does not believe our traitor is one of the recruits."

"You spoke to him of the matter?" she asked, knowing how easy it would be to have a conversation overheard. If the traitor learned they were suspicious, it would be nigh impossible to uncover them. She'd been forced to conjure an elaborate story when dismissing the guard and her maid, and even that worried Elara.

"Briefly. And we were not overheard."

"Why does he not believe any of the recruits are involved?"

"He said, having trained with them, he has seen their dedication and loyalty and does not believe they would risk everything they've worked so hard for by turning traitor."

"Do you agree with his assessment?"

Alden sighed. "I would like to believe it more than I can say, with conviction, 'tis true.'"

"It can sometimes be difficult to separate the heart and mind. Knowing and feeling are often at odds with each other."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Elara realized the double meaning.

Alden seemed to as well. His jaw locked, as it did when he was pensive or thoughtful. His lips parted, as if to say something, but then closed once again. She would know what he was thinking.

"Say it," she prodded. "The situation forces a trust between us, and you'll remember, in this chamber, we are not instructor and mentee but on equal measure."

"I wondered," he said, "if you spoke of the situation, or of us?"

And there it was. The gauntlet had been thrown.

Elara did not pretend to misunderstand. If they would continue to work together, it may be better to discuss that which hung over them. Only a fool would deny the ardor between them.

"Both, it would seem."

"As one skilled in political maneuvering, how do you suggest it best to separate the two when not doing so could have serious consequences?"

"By reminding oneself of those consequences, weighing them against the benefits."

"A few moments of pleasure versus losing our standing here. If I am sent home, the possibility of achieving knighthood is all but eliminated."

"If I am sent home with the current court intact," she countered, "it could put my father, and myself, at great risk."

"So 'tis settled. We ignore"—he waved a hand between them—"this...for the consequences are too grave to consider."

"As well as the moral implications for both you as a man of chivalry and me as an unmarried woman," she reminded him.

"Indeed." He smiled. "As you often say."

"Do I?" she asked, taking a sip of wine.

"Aye."

A few moments of passion.

Elara had an inclination it would be much more than that between them, not that it mattered. She and Alden could never be.

"I am glad that we've acknowledged..." She waved a hand, similar to Alden. "This."

"As am I," Alden said. "And since we are doing so, I would also acknowledge that I've never met a woman as beautiful, and compelling, as you."

Elara's pulse raced. "Thank you for the compliment," she said, knowing she should stop there, but something about Alden made her more reckless than usual. "I am equally impressed by your visage and intelligence. I've yet to learn a single ill trait of yours."

There it was again, that jaw. Elara wished she could trace it with her fingertips.

"I've many," he said. "But one you'd likely not care for if we were together."

Intrigued, Elara had to ask. "Tell me."

His eyes hardened in a way she'd never seen them do before. "If you were mine, Elara, you would be no one else's. I can be overly..." His chin rose. "Possessive."

Sucking in a breath, Elara tried to imagine what it would be like to have Alden possess her. As someone who considered herself free from the constraints often placed on women by society, that was certainly not a trait she admired.

And yet . . .

"I think," she managed, forgetting already the consequences they'd discussed, "we should reconvene tomorrow."