Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

" D id you see him? Alden knocked the poor man to the dirt."

The knights' quarters were rowdy all throughout the day but even more so in the evenings. After filling their mugs with ale throughout the meal, those who did not seek out female companionship came here to loudly retell stories from that day's training. They sat in the center of a large chamber, ten knights to a room. Behind them, their beds were separated by partitions, offering some measure of privacy as they slept. Though Alden believed in their cause and would gladly sleep on the hard earth to see King Stephen dethroned, a private sleeping chamber was something he looked forward to most upon their victory.

Alden attempted to stare down his friend, but Darien paid him no mind. He enjoyed being the heart of the gathering and would not heed Alden's silent warning. Unlike Darien, he preferred not to attract notice.

"Is that not the reason we train?" said Sir Aldric Langley, son of one of the most influential barons who had publicly declared for Matilda.

"But the ease with which he did it," another man said.

Alden sharpened his sword, listening but not offering any conversation. They spoke of his strength, and while it was true Alden was likely the strongest of all in this room, and perhaps of all those knights who trained at Castle Blackwood, each and every one of them was something Alden could not claim to be.

A knight.

He could train every waking moment, become the strongest man in all of England, wield a sword or hammer as well as anyone, but he could not knight himself. So he remained quiet, having nothing to offer to the discussion.

"Is your father built the same?" Aldric asked.

Alden looked up. All eyes were on him, waiting to see if he would respond. He rarely spoke of himself and even less so about his family. Surrounded by earls' sons, men who would someday rule England, Alden had no wish to talk about himself.

"Aye," he said. "As was his father and his father before him."

"Is it true your ancestors forged Excalibur?"

That question was from Sir Corwin deMonteforte, nephew of the empress they were all here to support. It had impressed Alden that the man did not receive, nor ask for, any special treatment, including quarters of his own. Alden respected him enough to answer the question.

"Nay," he said. "'Tis a rumor that began many years ago, likely because my ancestors have been forging the swords of kings since my great-grandfather."

Those kings included the one who currently sat on the throne, but none seemed inclined to question the fact, for which he was grateful. He had no quarrel with the men whom he fought alongside, but would defend his family's honor above all. His father took coin from wherever it came, and the royal family offered more of it than most. Men came from all over England, and Scotland and Ireland too, seeking out his father's handiwork, with good reason.

"A blacksmith's son," Aldric said. "The strongest among us."

Alden met his gaze, his own unwavering. Though he could not tell if the baron's son meant it as an insult, Alden's experience told him such a thing was likely.

Looking away, the knight stood. "Who has an empty mug?"

Alden and Darien exchanged a glance. Darien shook his head ever so slightly. He obviously believed Aldric said the words in good humor and was telling Alden to stand down. Though it went against his nature, he did so, aware of his own tendency toward perceiving insults, even when they did not exist. None at Castle Blackwood had made him feel unwelcome before, and Alden wanted to believe this was not an exception.

As they refilled their mugs, Alden stood. Sheathing his sword, he wordlessly made his way from the chamber, only to have Darien follow.

"It is difficult to find solitude with you accompanying me," he said to his friend, stopping beside him.

"I would imagine it so." Darien smiled. Unapologetic. Charming, as usual.

Theirs was an unlikely pairing. If there were anyone at Blackwood more esteemed than Sir Darien Ellsworth of Crimson Hollow, besides Matilda's own nephew, Alden did not know of them. Son of an earl, he hailed from the mysterious Isle of Ely, a notoriously mysterious but powerful place. The earldom he was set to inherit was one that came with as many questions as it did answers. Yet the two of them, along with another two men, had become close friends when they were first recruited.

"Nearly as difficult as getting you to understand I wish to be alone."

"You are too often alone."

"According to?"

"Me. 'Tis not good, your desire for solitude. It makes you broodier than usual."

Alden rolled his eyes. "We are not the same. I enjoy being alone, though I know that you do not."

"Who wishes to be alone when the opportunity to converse with a friend such as me is present?"

"You are absurd."

"No more so than you. He did not slight you."

"This has naught to do with Aldric. I wish for some peace from their constant chatter."

"It has all to do with Aldric. If not for him, we would be in there"—he waved toward their quarters—"rather than in the corridor. I know the man, and his intent was not to demean you."

Alden opened his mouth to offer a retort but Darien continued. "I know it well enough that I did not beat him bloody, which I'd have done if he had actually dared disparage you, or your family, in any way."

How could he argue with such a sentiment? Darien's loyalty—one Alden would return tenfold, as he would any cause or relationship to which he was committed—was commendable.

"I wish only for a few moments of peace and will return without delay."

Since their two other friends were married, only Alden and Darien remained at the knights' quarters together, and though Darien had forged a friendship with most of the men at Blackwood, Alden was not as close to the others as he was to Darien, Gareth, and Roland. Alden appreciated such kinship even if it was, at times, more than he wished for.

This eve was one of those times. Unlike Darien, he did not thrive on the constant companionship of others.

"Very well," Darien conceded. "That was quite a feat, laying your opponent on the ground during training as you did."

It was, though Alden would never admit as much aloud, even to Darien. Gloating did not align with the knightly virtues he adhered to, despite that he was not yet a knight.

"I will return," Alden said instead. "You would do well to remain in our quarters rather than seeking out the maid."

That earned a frown from Darien, who had been pursuing a serving maid with ties to one of the order's founding nobles. Some said she was the man's mistress, which did not bode well for an entanglement, but Darien and caution did not mix.

"Perhaps." Darien's smile told Alden that he was unlikely to return to their quarters now that Alden was leaving. "And perhaps not."

Contemplating the consequences for his friend if Darien's entanglement with the maid became a problem, he wandered outside into the smaller of three inner courtyards. Castle Blackwood was massive, and their order was lucky to have it as their training grounds. This particular courtyard, the smallest of the three, boasted fragrant herbs, blooming flowers, and the soothing sound of trickling fountains. It was a rare spot with few visitors, and Alden sat on a stone bench, looking up at the sky.

He watched the stars for a few moments, thinking of his siblings, especially of his youngest sister. Alden missed her the most and knew she would feel the same. As the oldest of five, he was protective of all his siblings, but she, as the youngest, had the mildest of temperaments, and he often worried about her well-being.

Alden lowered his gaze to look around the courtyard, it was one he'd been to many times, though it appeared very different in the dark. With the torches that dotted the parapets and moon as the only two sources of light, he was surprised to see something he had overlooked before.

Standing, he made his way toward the wall of hedges. Was that...a door? It could not be. He tried to remember when looking down from above the castle walls what was beyond this wall. Trees. Climbing vines. Overhanging foliage. Perhaps concealing something?

He pushed the moss-covered door, which opened to . . . another courtyard.

How was it possible he had never noticed it before?

Closing the door behind him, Alden looked up. As he remembered, it was completely covered and therefore hidden from view from above. At the center of the small courtyard stood a large fountain, its sound mingling with the others from where he just came.

He was not alone.

Just as Alden had that sense, a swath of bright blue materialized from behind the fountain, the gown's owner becoming clear. He knew even before seeing her beautiful face emerge. There were few women here at Castle Blackwood and even fewer who would don such a gown. Her chestnut hair fell in waves, over her shoulders and beyond. A testament to her unmarried status, one that had taunted him from the very first time he saw her.

Her skin, fair and flawless, appeared even more so here in the darkness with just a hint of light to reveal her. And though Alden could not see them now, he knew well the deep brown depths of the most intense, intelligent pair of eyes on any woman he'd ever met.

As it did every time he looked at her, Alden's pulse sped up the way it did when he raised his sword, ready to battle. It heralded an anticipation that was sated when he clashed with an opponent but one he suspected never would be satisfied with her.

Because she was his instructor, and he was her apprentice.

"Lady Elara," he said with a slight bow.

"Master Alden." As always, her voice was as regal as the woman's bearing. She could be the Queen of England for all that he was concerned, for no other noblewoman he'd met had such a presence as the Strategies instructor.

"It is simply Alden," he said, not for the first time.

Lady Elara raised her chin. "There is nothing simple about you, Master Alden."