“It was your squire that spotted him. I thought you’d be happy it was one of your fosters that found him.”
“My squire?”
“I don’t recall his name.” The unidentified man snapped his fingers. “Everard’s boy. He is one of yours, is he not?”
Brilliant, thought Beon, this wasn’t going to help his advancement at all.
“Him? That pompous imbecile...and his name is ridiculously odd, like Beowulf or some nonsense I can never remember. He is the most entitled peasant I have ever met! I tolerate him to appease Sir Lyndon and keep the peace with Sir Everard…for the time being. And he’s a page, not a squire, we must be clear on that point,” Lord Gall said through gritted teeth.
Beon winced at that.
“He seemed older to me.”
“He is older, he’s just stupid.”
Beon rolled his eyes and turned to leave. This man was impossible to please!
That night, a messenger arrived with a missive from Bamborough addressed to Sophia. After having read the letter through twice, it slipped from Sophia’s fingertips, fluttering to the ground. She dragged in a shuddering breath. Slipping one hand into her pocket, she ran her fingertips over the little wooden magpie for comfort. Father had not been away at war, but he was now. The missive had been promptly sent to inform her that he meant for her to remain in ‘safe-keeping’ at the convent for the time being.
Knowing war could last for years, her heart sank even further because, as a page to Sir Lyndon, Beon could very well be at war too. How long would it be before she saw him again? Would he be safe? Would he still want her if she was an old maid by the time he returned? Perhaps she was foolish to think he ever had wanted her.
Sophia laughed without humor at her thoughts as she peered up at the bird Beon had carved into the shrub. It wasn’t just the way he had left that held her thoughts captive, but what he’d left behind.
Moonlight limned the edge of the plant in silver when the clouds shifted out of the way, letting the light spill into the garden.
Even the scents filling her nose made her think of Beon Everard. Sophia hadn’t noticed the connection until making a habit of coming out to the garden to look at his sculpture so often. He smelled fresh and earthy, as though he typically spent a lot of time outdoors, which was reasonable to assume considering his duties. It was all so frustrating, Sophia wanted nothing more than to slap him and kiss him all at once.
Somehow, by the way he had looked at her during the May Day celebration, and the way he had spoken to her, and held her upon the horse, and then left these art works behind, he’d spoiled the peace she used to feel while here at the convent. “It’s not fair,” she said to no one else but herself as the crickets chirped on.
When the crickets suddenly ceased their singing, Sophia tugged her cloak more tightly around herself. A silent hush fell over the garden that seemed to make the shadows grow darker. As the clouds shifted, snuffing out even more light, a chill crawled over every inch of her skin.
“What’s not fair, Sophia?” asked a man, the voice of whom she didn’t recognize.
Turning to the sound of the voice, she asked, “Who’s there?”
“What’s not fair?” he repeated.
The fact that he did not answer her question had her pulling the cloak even tighter and taking a step backward. “War,” she decided to say as she continued to search the darkness for this person. He must be one of the monks, she reasoned, because he knew her name. She was out after her curfew, so perhaps he was about to chasten her.
“No, war is not fair,” he agreed gently.
Sophia caught movement to her left, and she watched as this man stepped out from between the line of hedges along the path.
“Forgive me,” she said, performing a quick curtsy. “I know I shouldn’t be out this late...I just, well, I just needed some fresh air.”
“If you were out here all night long, simply gazing up at the stars, I wouldn’t mind at all.” He was moving closer, and she could see that the hood of his cloak had been drawn up over his head, concealing his face even more than the shadows already were.
“I think I’m tired now, anyway,” she said abruptly, deciding to rush past him to get inside. Why would he not care? Was he not one of the monks?
With fear sending its tentacles around her senses, she all but ran past him. When she did, Sophia smelled something more enticing than any fragrance that had ever filled her lungs, and she almost stopped. But when that little voice in her head that guided her soul told her she shouldn’t, she kept going.
From that point on, she only visited the bird sculpture during the day, and she never did discover which monk it had been who’d spoken to her that night. This unsettling fact was yet another thing poking at her patience.
Chapter 11
Bound Wings
“This isn’t goodbye, Sophia. I shall return. I promise.”
Beon stopped as they walked along the shore of Holy Island. When Sophia hadn’t noticed he’d stopped and kept going, he chuckled, captured her by the hand, and drew here around to face him. She stumbled, trying to keep her balance at his sudden move, and stepped forward, bumping against his chest, her fingers clutching his shirt.
“Forgive me,” she said, trying to pull away.
Beon wouldn’t have it and wrapped his arms around her. Smiling down at her, he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and tucked them behind her ear.
Since the last time he saw her, his fortune had completely turned. Despite Lord Gall’s predictable behavior toward him, Beon had been commended by his comrades and summoned, along with many of the other men who’d fought at Neville’s Cross, to join King Edward in France. He and Sir Lyndon would be sailing in two days. While he was eager to put more of his skills to the test and fight beside his father in France, he couldn’t have left without validating this connection he was feeling with Sophia. It was as though she pulled at some part of him no matter how far away he was.
“I don’t want you making promises you can’t keep, Beon Everard. You’ve wanted this your whole life, to go and fight alongside your father. I know he will be so very proud.”
Beon took her hands in his, hearing the slight tremor in her voice. Sweet of her to be so brave for him, but he could tell she was worried for his safety.
“Whilst I still wish to become a knight, none of those things are as important to me as they were before. And whilst pleasing my father remains a goal, becoming a knight so I can claim your hand has become more important.”
Sophia blushed and smiled, her chin dropping as though she meant to hide her reaction from him. Pulling her hands away, she turned and continued walking down the shore as if she were embarrassed, her fingers clutching at her skirts to keep the hemline from dragging on the sand.
Beon peered behind them and saw Sir Lyndon and Eva following at a distance. He knew they were along as ‘chaperones,’ but they appeared to be lost in their own intimate conversation. Eva’s high-pitched laugh could be heard periodically over the waves. Watching them, Beon couldn’t help but think what a lovely match they made. And the fact that they seemed more consumed with their budding relationship than watching over him and Sophia suited him just fine.
“There’s no need to be shy, my lady. We can speak freely,” Beon continued as he caught up with her. The sun was setting to their right, and the ocean stretched out forever on their left. The last rays caught her auburn tresses and made them glow like embers.
“Is my father going?” she asked.
“No, Sir Percy has asked him to stay behind as Guardian of the North.”
“Since when does anyone tell my father what to do?”
“I’m not sure if your father wanted to go to war.”
“Why do you say that?”
“For someone who speaks tirelessly of the glories of battle, I don’t think Lord Gall lifted a finger to fight.”
Sophia looked at him with surprise, and he weighed the consequences of sharing
more with her. “I regret to have to say this, but now that I’ve seen the mettle of the man in action, he has lost my esteem…”
He thought she was going to say something, but apparently deciding against it, she bit her lip and looked out over the water. Finally, she said, “I’m not sure I know what he means to do with me.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, fearing the answer.
“For a while, I feared he wanted to leave me here and forget about me, but as of late...oh, I don’t know.”
“Please explain more.”
“Well, as of late, he’s been sending letters explaining the suitors he’s considering.”
“Has he given you names of these men?” Beon forced himself to ask, his stomach clenching.
“No,” she said quietly.
“What do you want, Sophia?”
At the question, she turned to face him. “What I want doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t think that’s true at all.”
“In my experience, it is hubris to believe there is a single, solitary truth in this world. For all people have their own version of it.”
She walked on in silence as Beon contemplated her statement. Beon believed without any hesitation or doubt that there were absolute truths in life. He was surprised at her point of view. “Is that what they teach you here? That people have such bleak impressions of truth?”
Sophia shrugged her shoulders and shot him a look.
Beon tried to put the pieces of a puzzle together from what he read upon her face. She seemed pensive and glum as if she were giving up on her dreams, as though she were a bird in a cage. What could he say to give her hope? Would he be leading her into more heartache if he did? He couldn’t say for certain what was going to happen next. One thing was for sure, however, he would not let Lord Gall crush the beauty within her with his cold and traitorous heart.
He dropped to one knee before her, and her eyes widened when he took her hand into his “I vowed once to serve you. I vow again to give you everything you want in this life.”
Tears filled her eyes at his words, and he rose up to face her. “Again, you’re making promises you might not be able to keep.”
“Silly little bird, why do you doubt me?”
“It’s not you I doubt...”
“Then what is it?” he asked, brushing the moisture from her cheeks with the backs of his fingers. “Speak to me, please.”
“I’m not sure if I know where home is.”
“I know where home is.”
Her blue eyes lifted to his. “You do?”
“It’s here...right here. It’s us. We are home when we’re together.”
She laughed, finally. “That’s not arrogant at all.”
Beon smirked at the sarcasm. “Do you remember when I used to chase you along the knags and dunes below the castle?” he asked.
“Of course I remember,” she answered, bashful again.
The memory of those times as children immediately brought a smile to his face. “Those are happy memories of home for me,” he said.
“For me as well.” Her cheeks had become a rosy shade of pink, and Beon knew he was making progress.
“I’ll wager I can still catch you.”
“Another arrogant statement.”
“Are you going to prove me wrong?” he asked, giving her a challenging smile.
Sophia just stared at him for a moment before giggling and taking off running.
Beon smiled too and took off after her. He knew he was probably still faster, simply because he was taller, but Sophia had the advantage of being barefoot. Beon could tell right away she had gained quite a lot of speed since the last time they played cat and mouse as children. The boots Beon was wearing hindered him considerably. When he was unable to gain on her, he thought about kicking them off but knew he would lose too much time doing that. He eventually caught up with her as she began to tire. Catching her about the waist, he lifted her feet from the ground and twirled her in the air before planting her back down onto the sand.
“I guess this means I failed to prove you wrong, doesn’t it?”
“You certainly made it difficult for me…you’re very fast!”
Sophia looked up and noticed a few gulls hovering over them. One of them squawked as though speaking to her. Childhood memories of seeing her surrounded by several feathered companions filled his mind.
“Oh, don’t worry Oliver, Beon is a friend. You remember Beon, don’t you?”
“Don’t tell me Oliver is still following you around in search of crumbs!”
“He is indeed,” Sophia said, smiling.
Beon looked up at the group of birds flitting above them. Another memory filled his mind, an image of Sophia riding a horse with her eyes closed and her arms outstretched. At the time, he’d thought she was mad and reckless, but he understood now that she simply wanted to be free like the birds she adored. He could only imagine how oppressive life with Lord Gall as a father must be. Beon didn’t have a horse nearby, but he wanted to give her that rush of freedom once again.
“I have an idea…do you trust me?” He asked her, as both of them continued to breathe heavily.
“I trust you, Sir Knight. You know I do,” Sophia said, imitating his intensity.
The sky was nearly dark now. Beon looked back at Sir Lyndon and Eva, almost obscured by the distance and the dim light. It looked as if their heads were touching as they walked.
“Close your eyes and take my hand,” Beon said, reaching out to her.
“It seems dark enough,” Sophia said, looking up at the moon. “Must I close my eyes?”
“I want to try something, please…it just entails a little trust, and a little more running.”
“Oh, all right then,” Sophia said, closing her eyes and taking his hand.
“Just keep your eyes closed and let me lead you. I promise I will keep you safe from harm and will not lead you astray.”
“What are you up to, Beon Everard?” Sophia asked, shaking her head.
Beon led her along the tide line where the sand was firm under their feet. He started walking at a brisker pace, his hand firmly gripping hers at arm’s length. After a moment or two, he picked up the pace to a gentle run.
“This is the strangest sensation I’ve ever had. It’s as though I’m blind but still able to move without a care…”
Beon began to run fast. Sophia started to giggle but kept her eyes closed tightly. Beon ran faster still.
Now the wind was in their hair, and the gulls called to her as they swooped. She laughed a throaty sound and held out her other arm…now both outstretched like wings, Beon still holding on to one by his fingertips. She was running full tilt now, with tears of joy streaming across her cheeks. Laughing as she used to as a child…giggles that were unrestrained and free. It was the most beautiful sight Beon had ever seen.
They slowed down and came to a stop. She grabbed his other hand as she swung toward him, opening her eyes dreamily. The moon shone back at him within those blue irises.
“That was amazing! It felt like I was flying! I felt so free!” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Beon squeezed her close. “You might be too much of a free spirit to live in a convent.”
She squeezed back. “I do feel my wings are bound at times.”
Closing his eyes, Beon savored having her in his arms and the sense of belonging it gave him. He wondered if she felt it too. “Do you get that sense here at the Priory or at Bamborough?”
“Both.”
“What about right now?”
She released him and looked into his eyes again, still smiling and crying at the same time. He reached up and wiped his thumb across her cheek.
“I feel at home with you,” she said.
Beon smiled at her words because it was exactly what he wanted to hear. He had often felt the urge to kiss her, but at this moment, the desire consumed him. The feeling drew his gaze to her mouth. When Beon raised his eyes back to hers
, she gave him an expectant look. He thought she might be giving him permission to kiss her, but he wasn’t sure. Beon certainly didn’t want to be presumptuous or arrogant, proving her right.
He swallowed hard, his throat going dry. “Sophia?”
“Hmm?” she asked, leaning toward him, her eyes half closed as she peered at him through a fringe of lashes.
“May I kiss you?”
Her eyes widened. “You hadn’t already decided to?”
“Well, I had, but I wasn’t sure if you would be all right with it.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“I was right,” he laughed, “you’re too much of a free spirit to live in this place.”
“Do you think the nuns would be ashamed of me?”
“No, of course not,” he said promptly, fearing he’d made her question herself.
This conversation seemed to be going in the wrong direction, and Beon decided it might be best if he stopped speaking.
Dipping his head, he kissed her lips gently. A bolt of energy coursed through his body as the waves crashed behind them. When he pulled away, she pouted, prompting him to ask, “Not enough?”
“No,” she said.
Going in for another round of kissing, he stopped holding back what he was feeling inside. His mouth moving over hers as that energy gave way to heat. She clutched at his clothes and then his hair, and a reckless part of him wished he wasn’t wearing any clothing at all. He decided then that he would never let her go and he would never let anyone else steal her heart from him…and he would never let her be kept as a prisoner at this convent or at Bamborough Castle or anywhere.
The idea that he loved her crossed his mind—had loved her for years, really—but he didn’t dare share those words with her yet, especially as he was about to leave her once again. But he vowed to return and free her once and for all.
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