Page 100 of The Champion

“I’m considering it.”

Shaking his head, Stryder rose to his feet and held his hand out to his brother. Kit took his hand with a strong grip. Stryder hauled him to his feet.

He inclined his head toward the list. “Come, little brother. There is something I would show you.”

Kit followed after him without question.

“You know, Kit, the best way to make a maid crave you is skill with a sword.”

Kit arched an amused brow at him.

Stryder shook his head as he understood that look. “There was no double entendre intended there.”

He left Kit standing at one end of the list and went to pull two throwing-daggers out of a straw dummy. Returning to his brother’s side, he handed one over.

“It takes a light touch, but...” Stryder let fly the dagger which landed just below where a man’s heart would be. “‘Tis rather easy once you get the hang of it. You think you can do that?’

Kit raised the dagger and barely looked at the dummy. He threw it fast and hit the straw-filled knight straight between the eyes.

Dumbstruck, Stryder stared at the knife. As did every knight on the field.

“Beginner’s luck,” Kit said nonchalantly.

Again, Damien’s accusation rang in Stryder’s head. Was it possible?

He looked at the knife, then at his brother. “Are you sure there’s nothing you wish to tell me?”

“Nay.”

Still suspicious, Stryder watched as Kit turned and went to retrieve his lute and paper. His brother might dismiss what’d just happened, but Stryder knew better. It took a lot of practice and skill to throw a dagger like that.

A lot.

When and where would Kit have learned such? And what other skills had his brother acquired that he knew nothing about?

Late that afternoon, Rowena sat in the great hall with her lute in her lap as she sang to a very small group of troubadours, mostly women, and a few men who sought to curry her uncle’s favor. Other ladies, mostly those who had young sons they didn’t wish to see die in battle, had come to hear her. They alone seemed to agree with her viewpoints against war.

At least no one was mocking her.

Oddly enough, there were two of her own ladies-in-waiting missing. Elizabeth and Bridget. She assumed they were both of with some man who had caught their fancy.

Something that was very typical of both of them and it was something she would never hold against either one. She loved her friends too dearly for that.

Everyone was being respectful and attentive until the door behind her that led to a back hallway, opened. There was a collective gasp and frown from the group before several heads went together and whispers instantly began.

Rowena turned to see what had so captured their attention. Behind her, she found Damien and three of his men entering the hall.

Damien pulled up short as he realized he was the center of everyone’s attention. “Forgive me,” he said quietly. “I was hoping not to interrupt you.”

“Think nothing of it, milord. I can⁠—"

“Please, Rowena, play. It is, after all, why I came here this day. I wish to hear your songs.”

To her utter astonishment, he and his men took seats off to the side, in the back of the small crowd.

Suddenly unsure of herself and completely self-conscious of the fact that Damien was staring at her with eyes she couldn’t see, she began her song anew and tried her best to ignore a man whose very presence set her ill at ease. Indeed, she could feel the weight of his steely gaze on her as if it were a touch. It unnerved her greatly.

There was something extremely disconcerting about Damien and it wasn’t just the fact that she had no idea what the man looked like. It was as if darkness itself was cloaked around him.