Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

" Y ou, sir, are well in your cups," Roland said to Darien as they dismounted.

"I would disagree with you, but alas, I cannot."

Alden dismounted as well, giving the horse's reins to one of Blackwood's stable boys. It had been some time since all four of them had gone to the village tavern, with Gareth and Roland now wed.

"I'm unsure if I care for this tamer version of you," Roland said to Gareth as the four of them made their way toward the keep.

"Would you have me terminated as an instructor so soon after receiving the position?"

Indeed, Gareth had minded himself more so than usual, although the knight had never been the rowdiest of the four of them. That honor went to Roland first, and Darien next.

"Neither were you," Alden said to Roland, "the same version of yourself this eve."

"I do not believe Amalia would appreciate that particular version of me at this time."

Since Roland had previously lain with every fair woman in the village before meeting Amalia, Alden would agree.

Darien laughed. "It seems the two of us must compensate for such a sorry state," he said to Alden.

As if such a thing were possible. Alden loved women as much as any man, but he had the good sense not to bed each and every one of them. Earning his spurs and getting a maiden with child did not align, and neither did the idea of impending fatherhood without a bride.

"You are lucky you were not already a father made before meeting the lovely Lady Amalia," he said to Roland, then turned to Darien. "Perhaps something to consider?"

"Your warning came too late," Gareth said as they entered the keep. "You did not notice he disappeared for a good part of the eve?"

"With the same serving girl with whom he disappeared on our last excursion?" Roland added.

Darien shrugged. "'Tis difficult to conceive a child when you simply—"

"Perhaps you should not finish that thought."

None of the men saw her until then, a testament to how many mugs of ale they'd drunk that eve. Standing at the entrance to the hall they'd been about to pass was the very woman who visited Alden each night in his dreams.

She wore the same gown as earlier in the day and looked as lovely as she had then. Unused to seeing Lady Elara in the hall, he immediately wondered what she was about this late in the eve.

"My lady." Each of them inclined their heads and greeted her.

"I wish to speak with you," she said, without preamble, to Alden.

Oddly, Gareth smiled beside him. It was not a taunting smile, as Darien often gave him, knowing Alden's affections for their instructor. This was more of a...knowing one. Puzzled, he glanced from Gareth to the lady.

"Of course," he said, avoiding Darien and Roland's gazes, knowing their expressions would make it difficult for him not to offer a retort.

"This way."

He was a man of discipline, but even so, Alden could not resist looking back at his friends. Of course Darien and Roland appeared as if they would burst out laughing at any moment. But he was most interested in Gareth, who continued to appear more knowing than he should be. Alden would speak to him on the matter later.

Since Lady Elara said nothing, Alden followed her in silence. She walked briskly, lifting her gown as she climbed a staircase he'd never used before. With good reason. It led to her private chambers but naught else that Alden was aware of.

"Are we—"

"Shhh," she said in front of him. "We pass a guard's chamber."

Indeed, at the top of the stairs, a sole door to the right was shut. Was a guard inside? What purpose did he serve? Was it one of the recruits?

Alden shrugged off an unwelcome stab of jealousy of a man bedding down so close to her chambers. That he desired Lady Elara was of no consequence. She was both a noblewoman and his instructor. As such, she was as out of reach for him as the Empress Matilda herself.

A chuckle escaped him at such a thought.

Elara spun toward him as she turned the key to her chamber door. Alden pursed his lips closed, knowing, if she asked, he could not reveal the source of his amusement.

She stepped inside.

Alden paused on the threshold.

"Come," Lady Elara said in the matter-of-fact voice she used during instruction.

Alden's pulse raced as he stepped past her. Breathing in the scent of vanilla and a hint of gardenia, one uniquely hers, did nothing to assuage his wayward thoughts as Alden spied the four-poster bed inside what was likely one of the largest chambers at Blackwood. Since there was no lord or lady of Blackwood, the castle temporarily given to their order for the purpose of training, likely this was the lady's chamber.

It was furnished with ornate yet practical pieces, a canopied bed adorned with rich fabrics, a wooden chest for storing clothes and personal belongings, and comfortable chairs and benches for seating. Each wall was adorned with tapestries and embroidered hangings depicting scenes from mythology and religious works. A fireplace mantel, adorned with candles, dominated the room.

"This way."

They walked through her bedchamber, across a rich carpet covering the stone floors into another room, a sitting area for receiving guests. Alden glanced at the door, which must have been one they passed. Why not enter directly into this room rather than her bedchamber?

Oil lamps on both sconces and every tabletop illuminated the small chamber, casting a warm and inviting glow. Books were scattered over every other available surface.

"If it pleases you," she said, indicating he should sit by a much smaller fireplace than the one inside her adjoining chamber. Even so, it offered light and warmth as Alden sat, curious.

Lady Elara did the same, across from him. As always, her back straight and chin raised, his Strategies instructor appeared composed. Regal. Untouchable.

"Have you ever had any allegiances that might conflict with our order's mission?"

Of all the things he might have expected her to say, questioning his loyalty to the cause was not one of them.

"My lady, I am uncertain how I've given you the impression—"

"Master Alden, I have many questions to ask, and we've much to discuss. If you will answer my questions, we can get more quickly to the heart of the matter."

What, in Mary's name, was she speaking about?

Lady Elara sighed. "Please, if you would simply answer the question."

He no longer cared for this discussion. Not even with her.

"Nay, I have not."

"Have you ever been approached by anyone to betray our order or disclose sensitive information?"

"Never."

"You spoke of loyalty to your friends. What do you believe it means, to be loyal?"

A memory came flooding back. A young nobleman had come to claim his sword, one of the first Alden had forged without the aid of his father. Though he was pleased by Alden's handiwork, the young noble had scoffed upon seeing the hilt of Alden's own sword, which lay beside his workbench.

"A fleur-de-lis? You are a blacksmith, not a knight."

Alden had faltered. None had ever questioned him about the small symbol before, one which represented the purity, faithfulness, and honor of the chivalric code he would abide by in his bid to become a knight.

He had never admitted it aloud to anyone. Not his parents nor his siblings. But he did so to this young noble, and the man's response was one he would never forget.

"Master Alden?"

Brought back to the present, he answered curtly. "Loyalty implies constancy in one's actions, even in the face of challenges, temptations, or adversities. 'Tis a virtue that fosters trust, unity and mutual support within a relationship."

He could say more, but it seemed to be enough.

Her eyes softened. Her shoulders relaxed.

"There is a traitor among us. Within our order. I've become aware of it earlier this eve, and none but your instructors and the lords Ashford and Bennington, along with Master Pembroke, who discovered a discrepancy in the weapons inventory, know of this. And now you."

Everything he'd been feeling since Alden sat, his earlier trepidation at her questions, fled in a moment of extreme shock. A traitor? Among their order?

"Each recruit has been hand-picked for their known loyalty to the cause."

"Indeed," she replied.

"Could any outside Blackwood have learned of our mission? Perhaps it is an outsider and not one who has sworn an oath to the Guardians of the Sacred Oak?"

"From the information we've gathered thus far, it seems as if the traitor is closer to Blackwood, likely within its walls."

Nay. Impossible.

"Gareth," he said without thinking. "He knows." It was the reason for his secret smile below. He realized the purpose of this meeting. Which begged the question..."Why are you telling me?"

"I have been tasked with rooting out the traitor and need someone inside the circle of recruits to help me."

"Why me?"

She was less quick to answer this time, though the purpose for the questions Lady Elara had asked him earlier became clear. She assessed him, and from her own instruction, Alden knew it was less the answers he gave than his eyes and his body's movements, that told the truth of his words. If he'd had any hint he was being assessed in such a way, Alden could have more easily deceived her, if he had something to hide. Which he did not.

His admiration for her grew, if such a thing were possible.

"Gareth is no longer a recruit," she began.

"He knows," Alden stated the obvious. "Which is why he did not seem surprised you asked to speak with me this eve."

"Precisely. Although," she said with the faintest of smiles. "The same cannot be said of your other friends."

Though he'd not consumed as much ale as the others, Alden's tongue might be looser than perhaps it should be.

"Surprised," he said, "would be a mild description for their reactions. And my own."

Lady Elara's expression was inscrutable. "As to your question," she said, pressing on. "I chose you for a variety of reasons, not least because of my own instinct that you were not, indeed, our traitor."

A well-honed instinct, as she was correct. "The other reasons?" he asked, knowing well she would not answer.

"Are irrelevant."

Alden would have smiled, but since it could be interpreted as him flirting with her, an interpretation that would be accurate, he did not. He might be alone in her private chambers with the esteemed Strategies instructor, but she was still very much his instructor.

"Why," he wondered aloud, "is there a guard at the top of the stairwell not on guard? And why did we not enter through that door?" He nodded toward the one behind her.

Lady Elara smiled. "I am pleased you observed both," she said in the same tone she used during instruction. "He has been dismissed. Beginning tomorrow, the guard's chambers will also be moved. I do not wish for him to hear you within my chambers. You will report here, at the end of each day, after taking your evening meal."

God was testing him. That could be the only reason for this current predicament. Meet the one woman whose presence unbalanced him more than any other in recent memory, one he could never have, each day in her private chambers?

His temptation to discover if Lady Elara was as cool and reserved in bed as her demeanor would suggest would not disappear as readily under these circumstances. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part, but Alden did not believe she would be and wondered about it often. Unfortunately, he'd never find out.

"And the door," he said, attempting not to react to her decree.

"Too close to my guard's to open without alerting him to our presence."

Alden had another question. "If you've had a private guard stationed outside your chambers but have dismissed him, how can you be certain to remain safe in your chambers?"

The thought did not seem to concern her. "'Twas Eamon's doing, an unnecessary precaution, to my thinking, as I keep my chambers locked when inside them. Naught is more important now than uncovering the traitor, and discreetness will be necessary." She stood. "I am trusting you with much more than your silence on the matter at hand. Come with me."

Alden stood and did so.

They walked toward a tapestry, which Elara pulled aside, revealing a small wooden door beside a large trunk. "If the traitor discovers our meetings, he or she might well know of our suspicions. You cannot be seen coming or going from here. The door leads to another behind the alcove on the first floor of the east watchtower. It is locked." She handed him a ring with two keys on it. "That will open it, and the other key will open a second door at the top of the hidden stairwell. Come after the meal, knock on this door, and I will open it."

A secret passageway to the lady's chamber, an escape route lest Castle Blackwood were attacked, was not at all a surprise. That he would be using said passageway to visit Lady Elara Wycliff each night was, however.

"Roland and Darien..." he said, realizing that keeping such a secret from the two of them was impossible.

"Cannot know of the traitor. I do not believe either of them to be our culprit, but cannot take that chance."

"How?" he began, but she stopped him.

"By any means necessary."

He thought quickly. It would be impossible for him to sneak away to Lady Elara's chamber each day without notice. They would become suspicious very quickly. "I am with them, Darien especially, most evenings," he said, thinking.

Alden's eyes met hers.

A mischief in those deep brown eyes that he'd never seen before gave Alden his answer. His brows rose.

"Better for your men to believe us engaged in a clandestine assignation than reveal our true purpose. If such a cover becomes necessary."

Aye, he was being tested for some past transgression. Alden was certain of it.

"I will attempt to avoid the excuse, if possible."

"I trust you will, Master Alden. For now, listen. Watch. And we will get started in earnest tomorrow evening."

She opened the door, dismissing him.

"Until tomorrow evening," he said, inhaling her sweet scent one more time as he moved past her. Alden was not certain if he looked forward to, or dreaded, their next meeting.