by Beth Mikell
A simple mission to infiltrate Dorling Castle and take Gunther’s place resulted in Ian the Mouse’s death and Lady Brenna kidnapped. Though the assignment left Gunther dead too, Colin remained exiled from the Elite brotherhood.
A deep sigh like boredom escaped the exiled warrior’s lips. “Let it go, Simon. It will not change anything to rehash what I should or should not have done. Now you have seen me—be at peace and walk away. This time, do not return,” he warned with cool detachment.
Simon ignored Colin’s brush off. “Have you heard of the Gray Legion?”
Colin’s blue eyes narrowed. “Perhaps.” They had approached him on more than one occasion to join their renegade group, but their brand of knighthood left a bitter taste in his mouth. The idea of terrorizing innocent people was not his ideal method of life. He may be a devalued knight, but he still had honor, though slim at best, according to Lord Darrius. “Why?”
Simon shifted his position and sat upon a rock behind him, stretching out his legs. “They are gaining in strength and attacking more frequently. No matter how much the Imperial Elite tries to stamp out their activities, they still remain elusive.”
A bitter chuckle shook Colin. “And so you thought of me? I am honored, Simon, truly. What would Darrius say? His valued knight consorting with his known enemy. Careful, if he finds out, you will be on the receiving end of his betrayal speech. Be assured, it is not an oath you will want to receive.”
“God’s teeth, Colin, what do you take me for? I know Darrius well and I am indeed taking my chances being here, but like I said before, we need you! No one is safe anymore. The vassals are scurrying left and right in fear. The king has his hands full with political troubles, and it would be helpful if you got the stick out of your arse and found a more honorable road instead of continuing down hell’s path.”
Colin gave an audible oath under his breath. “What do you think Darrius is going to do, pray? Open the gates of the keep with grandeur and happiness if I return? I am hardly the prodigal son material and certainly not worth exalting. You were there two years ago. The only welcome I will expect to receive is death at the end of his sword.”
Simon leaned close. “In four days’ time, Blackstone Castle will hold a tournament. Every lord in the northern region is invited and every knight border to border is welcome, no matter who it is… friend or foe. It is a mandate from Darrius’ own lips.”
Silence ensued for several minutes. “So, the Imperial Elite is adhering to Darrius’s Mission Code: The Distraction. The Ruse. And the Betrayal.” Colin propped his elbows on his knees, thinking.
The younger knight made an affirmation. “Exactly. Our hope is that the tournament will draw out the Gray Legion to a place where they recruit other knights into their band of renegades. However, we need someone on the inside. No suspected Gray Legion knight has ever approached the Elite, even if we are undercover. We are too well known. But you would make the excellent betrayal.”
A hearty laugh ripped through Colin’s chest. “Aye, so it would seem. I would indeed be the right choice.”
Simon shook his head with a disgruntled expression. “Do you not understand what I am saying?” He leaned forward. “Not only would you be helping restore your honor, but you would be able to mend your relationship with your brother. Darrius cannot do anything to you while you are at the tournament. His own mandate prevents it. He might be upset, but you would have a right to be there.”
Colin shrugged, not really interested. “I will think about it.”
The Imperial knight stood up, preparing to leave. “In four days, I am expecting to see you there, Colin. And clean yourself up. You look like a toad’s backside. You would not want to scare your nephew,” he announced.
Colin only grunted and Simon turned, walking away into the woods. “I never said I would come!” He yelled out at the retreating knight.
“Four days,” Simon returned, and then he was gone.
Colin remained thoughtful on Simon’s words for long moments, staring into the firelight. He did not know what he was going to do, but it seemed God was not finished with him and perhaps his penitence was about to commence.
****
Lady Brenna of Blackstone and Lady Linnea of Carthmore sat together in the lord’s solar of Blackstone Castle. Their heads were bent over a piece of embroidery. The sisters spoke in gentle tones, swapping ailments and delights regarding their expecting children as they stitched patterns into the piece of fine linen. Two year old Liam, Brenna and Darrius’s son, played with wooden toys before them on the floor.
Linnea, married to Dugan, an Imperial Elite Knight and Darrius’s friend, lost their first child before its birth a year ago. The loss still penetrated her sadness daily. When the lady and her dark warrior realized her second pregnancy, every precaution was being made to ensure the babe would live. Lord Dugan, wary of his wife’s delicate condition, protested bringing her to Blackstone Castle for the tournament, but she insisted. She was only three months along and confined to simple activities within the keep. Linnea promised not to attend the tournament, keeping only to the bedchamber with conversation her only entertainment.
“Lady Brenna?”
The lady in question looked up at the call of her name and found Maude standing in the doorway.
A sincere smile broke over her face, her green eyes alighting with joy. “Maude, you look beautiful.” Brenna admired the soft pink linen gown with brown fur trim on the young woman. The beautiful dress accentuated her curves, her youthful roundness all but disappeared as her blonde hair and blue eyes shined.
Though Maude was but a handmaiden when Brenna first arrived at Blackstone Castle two years ago, it was soon discovered Maude was in fact of noble birth. Her father had been a knight killed in battle twenty years earlier. Having lost her mother and brother to illness, the young girl was forgotten without a care or thought, and left to struggle through life. Her station had been reduced to a servant. As Brenna discovered Maude’s situation and the truth of such tragic events, Blackstone’s lady elevated Maude from a simple handmaiden to her personal companion, offering the one-time servant a chance to become a lady in her own right. No one questioned Brenna’s change to Maude’s station. The Lady of Blackstone was as kind as she was generous.
Brenna laid aside the embroidery. “Come, come… show us,” she said, motioning for Maude to enter the chamber to display her new gown she had made for her young companion to wear for the festive tournament.
The woman took shy steps into the solar, her embarrassment riding high on her flushed cheeks as she smoothed one hand over the front of the gown. “I don’t know, Lady Brenna, it is much too fine,” she commented. “Perhaps I should stay indoors with Lady Linnea.”
Linnea sat up straighter in her chair. “Nonsense! You look spectacular and you are not an old maid. You are going to walk beside my sister with your head held high,” she said succinctly, continuing when Maude moved to protest, “And who knows… perhaps a certain knight will notice you? I have it on good authority that he may not be opposed.”
“My lady!” Maude cried, turning five shades of crimson.
It was understood that before Maude’s elevation from handmaiden to companion, one of Darrius’s knights and cousin, Nyle of McLeod would often step in her path. He threw her off balance, yet she was too shy to speak with him above common replies.
Linnea and Brenna looked at each other with smiles of whimsical fortitude, knowing they were going to do everything in their power to make the match between their friend and Nyle of McLeod—no matter what they must do.
“Maude, you are a lady and quite beautiful. Nyle is the one that should be embarrassed for not making his intentions known sooner,” Brenna said with an easy smile.
“Exactly,” Linnea conferred with a diffident wave of her hand.
Maude made no reply as Ryrie McCabe, Darrius’s half-sister, entered behind her.
Another lady of beauty in her own right. Ryrie strode into the chamber to
stand beside Maude, her harp enfolded against her body. She held a small bowl of raisins mixed with almonds and walnuts, and she ate small handfuls at a time. Her violet eyes observed the three women. She wore a dark blue gown, her eyes glowing bright as her long braided hair fell in an inky black plait over one shoulder to her waist.
“What did I miss?” She offered her snack to Maude, who declined with a shake of her head.
Brenna smiled, but Linnea answered, “The situation. The one where Maude and Nyle play cat and mouse before the whole keep, yet everyone knows they should be together, but they run from one another. It is quite scandalous really.” She fanned herself.
“Oh God… I think I am going to be ill,” Maude groaned, reaching up a hand to her stomach.
Ryrie smiled and switched her snack bowl her other hand and grasped the young girl’s shoulder. “Easy there, sweet Maude. My cousin is a shy ninny, if that helps at all. He has been all his life.”
Maude rolled her eyes upward. “It does not help. Mayhap excuse me while I visit the garderobe.”
The dark beauty laughed sweetly. “Fear not, I told Nyle to ask for your favor during the tournament, so bring your favorite ribbon. And I will have you know that he smiled and he is equally eager. Just wait and see.” Ryrie winked.
The young companion paled. “You did not?” Maude’s blue eyes reflected her horror.
“Perfect!” Brenna and Linnea said in unison ecstatic their plan to match Maude with Nyle was coming together at last.
****
Ryrie padded closer to Brenna and Linnea, offering her bowl to the two pregnant ladies, knowing they loved snacking on the earthy mixture as much as she did.
Brenna took the bowl and popped a few in her mouth, sighing with pleasure. Ryrie was happy to pass the bowl off, knowing she needed to stop eating. Her handmaiden was complaining that her dresses were becoming too snug. But, what did she care? If she wanted to go for the stuffed pig ensemble, maybe she would not have to endure further marriage proposals. She cannot marry if the gown does not fit.
“How did you know I was starving?” Brenna asked with a rueful shake of the head.
“You mean we, as in us, dear sister,” Linnea interjected, reaching for the mixture of nuts and raisins.
Ryrie laughed. “You are both pregnant—it goes without saying,” she returned with an easy smile, dropping down on the floor with Liam. Her nephew threw himself into her arms and she gathered him close, inhaling his sweet scent. She ruffled his black hair with her hand, “How is my little darling? I have missed you since breakfast!” She pulled him up to kiss his rosy cheek.
His aunt’s kiss sent him into a fit of giggles and he tugged on Ryrie’s hand. “Go walk! Go walk, Ri-Ri!” Liam stood up to pull her hand, tugging with all his small strength. Ri-Ri was her name on his young tongue because he could not pronounce Ryrie.
Still laughing, Ryrie looked up at Brenna. “Do you mind if Master Liam and I take a little walk? We will not go far.”
Brenna smiled. “Of course not. Go.” She waved them off with Liam still tugging on his aunt’s hand.
Chapter 2
Ryrie allowed herself to be dragged down the stone stairs by Liam and out the front of keep. He went straight for the local cat population, though the cats were scared of his two-year-old strangle hold, scurrying every direction in fear of his attack. Still, he laughed, never tired of chasing the cats he dearly wished to catch. And she never tired of watching his sweet determination.
Surveying the sights around her, Ryrie could see a great bustle of activity everywhere. For two years, Darrius had planned the tournament and it showed. Practically a whole town had been built near Blackstone Castle, additional stables, and a modest residence for knights and their squires installed at the rear of the curtain wall. No expense had been spared. Not that money was an issue for her brother. He was not only rich, but as the king’s emissary, completely set for life. Tomorrow the tournament would commence and every knight, man, woman, and child could not contain their excitement for the impending activity. Blackstone Castle flourished under its new lord and Ryrie could not be more proud of her brother. She adored him.
Her mind reflected on her own mother and father for a moment. Though she missed them terribly, her choice to leave calmed her. Her options were limited after receiving four offers of marriage these last few years, declining them all—and afraid of more. Ryrie did not want to marry just anyone, though her father, Malcolm, had been a little disappointed by her last refusal.
Which left her with a new dilemma in life: stay and eventually accept the next offer of marriage or make a life change. The choice was simple. With her parent’s permission, Ryrie wrote to Darrius in an attempt to make a change and he came to whisk her away to Blackstone. He arrived with half of his Imperial Elite guard, while the other half remained protecting his lands and family. The last month with Darrius and his wife had been the happiest of Ryrie’s life. She was free without any threat of marriage or disappointed stares from her father.
She loved Brenna as a sister and her nephew with fierce pride, grateful for their kindness and loving reception in their family. In addition, Linnea and Maude made ideal friends, something she missed: female camaraderie and support. Though her mother tried to fill the void, Ryrie always felt lonely; all her friends had married and moved away so long ago.
Ryrie felt a tug at her hand, and she turned her attention back to her nephew who had grown tired of chasing cats, urging her to walk further through the inner court out to the lower bailey. But he was still not satisfied, and Liam tugged her further toward the portcullis and drawbridge. He reached up both hands to Ryrie, insisting she lift him into her arms, though he wanted to go out, he was deathly afraid of the drawbridge.
John, the gatekeeper, stepped out from behind his post. He was a seasoned warrior, but time took his youth, yet Darrius gave him a respectable position. The older knight could not be happier, protecting the entrance to everything Darrius held dear to his heart.
“Morning Ryrie, Master Liam. Where are you headed this fine day?”
She flashed him a smile and Liam eyed the man suspiciously. “Is Lord Darrius outside, John? Master Liam and I were going to visit him a moment.”
John nodded his head. “Aye that he is. Shall I accompany you? There are a rough lot of knights out there, miss. I would not want Lord Darrius in a fine temper for your safety.”
Her brother’s “fine temper” was indeed renowned for over excessive with regards to his family, but she preened under the words. It meant Darrius’s love and care. She looked beyond the gate, seeing her brother at a distance, moving among the construction of the tournament playing field. “It is your kindness, John, but nay, I thank you. I see my brother. If you like, you may watch us.”
Darrius headed their direction as soon as Ryrie and Liam crossed over the drawbridge. He trekked over to his sister and son, along with several of his Imperial Elite. As soon a Liam saw his father, he wiggled fretfully in Ryrie’s arms until she placed him on the ground and he took off running. The Imperial Arm caught his son up into his arms, his laughter evident as he tossed his young son up in the air, only to catch him again—and Liam squealed with delight.
Ryrie drew closer to her brother and nephew, a smile touching her lips. “Darrius, I hope you do not mind, but Liam wanted to take a walk.”
Darrius settled beside his sister. “Of course, small thistle, you know I am always happy to see you.” His deep, blue eyes twinkled. “Is everything all right in the keep?” he asked as his Imperial Elite filed in around him.
Rowan and Nyle came to stand on either side of Ryrie as Simon walked up.
She smiled, knowing it was Darrius’s way of asking about his wife. “Everyone is in perfect health and happiness, my lord.” She winked. “Have you completed everything for tomorrow?”
****
Darrius turned to look around at the tournament grounds, satisfied with what he saw. There were only a few more adjustments and everythi
ng would be ready. A grand gallery had been erected for the nobles at the head of the jousting field and rows of wooden benches for the common spectators on the other three sides. The whole field blazoned with colorful banners and tents. Everything was going according to plan.
A lot was riding on this tournament other than the obvious game itself. He knew there were many suspected Gray Legion knights within their fold and he could not stomach any threat to his family—more than they already were. He could handle many things, but a danger to his family was out of the question.
Brenna had been threatened maliciously by her own father, Sir William of Carthmore and Darrius’s twin brother Gunther two years ago. The Imperial Arm had lost his usual control, killing both. His toleration had severe limits and he could not—would not—take any chances with those he loved.
He nodded. “Yes, I believe we will be ready by morning.”
“Will your Imperial knights be participating in the event?” She ventured a sideways glance toward her cousins.
Darrius’ lips lifted in a wry smile. “Much to their dismay, no. I need them for security, rather than showing the world how wonderful they are.”
Rowan leaned closer to Ryrie. “Don’t look now cousin, but here comes Erik of Chevington and his father,” he whispered, following up with an amused chuckle.
She elbowed his stomach. “Lovely,” she murmured.
He coughed through the pain. “Now, now… play nice,” Rowan returned, rubbing his body with prodigious exaggeration. “I was only offering a fair warning, lass.”
Darrius leaned forward, his eyes full of sincerity. “Not to worry, small thistle, I would never feed you to the wolves. You are surrounded by the best knights in his majesty’s service—and Rowan.”
The younger knight flipped his cousin and lord an irritated glower. “Humph!”
Ryrie gave a radiant smile. “I never doubted you for second, brother.” She threw a glare toward Rowan. “Perhaps you should take a lesson in decorum from Darrius. It seems you are in need, cousin.” Everyone laughed at her quip, but not him.
