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William stopped her. “The fact remains that she is far safer with me than with you, considering we know nothing about you,” he meant it as an insult. “Therefore, until such a time as you can be deemed trustworthy, I will continue to have free access to Lady Jordan, day or night.”

Aloria’s face turned red. “The queen considers me trustworthy, sire, and her authority exceeds yours,” she shot back. “If you find my presence so difficult, then you will have to discuss it with her. Until such time as I hear differently, I will staunchly refuse to allow you, as you called it, ‘free access’.”

Jordan cringed. She was standing in between them and felt William reach down and pull her out of the way. He towered over Aloria, his beautiful face dark.

“It is not your place to give me orders, woman,” he growled. “You can make this easy or you can make it difficult; the choice is yours. You must trust me enough to know that I would not compromise Lady Jordan’s reputation or station. I am not a dimwit and I understand protocol better than you do. Take that tone with me again and you risk a great deal.”

Shaken, Aloria felt as if the hazel-gold eyes were burning her. “Forgive me if I have acted disrespectfully, my lord, but I only have Lady Jordan’s best interests in mind. And I must still refuse you free access.”

William glared at her a moment longer and she truly thought he might strike her, but instead, he turned abruptly on his heel and disappeared into the castle.

Aloria let out a relieved sigh, realizing that she was shaking with fear. Jordan looked back at the woman impassively, although she was impressed to see that she had stood her ground against William. Foolish, but brave.

“He’s a nasty one,” Aloria murmured.

With a grin, Jordan brushed past her. “Not really.”

*

Jemma was sitting in front of her loom when Jordan and Aloria returned. Kieran had been gone a good half-hour, leaving Jemma alone to bask in her newfound happiness. Her cheeks were a perpetual pink, evidence of the new light from within and she hummed cheerily as she worked. Never had she felt so entirely content.

But her good humor fled and she stiffened when Aloria came into the room, glaring at the woman with tangible hostility. Jordan noticed right away, hoping she would not have to referee any fights. It seemed that ever since Aloria’s arrival, the woman had done nothing but ruffle feathers and Jordan was concerned that she might have to play the peacemaker between her and the others. It was not a position she wanted to find herself in.

But she pretended not to notice the animosity as she kicked off her slippers and sat down to her sewing; she was embroidering the cuffs of a dress Joana had made. Aloria, seeing that her mistress was busying herself, pulled a piece of needlepoint from her belongings and sat primly in the corner as she worked quietly.

There were a thousand things Jemma wanted to tell Jordan, and vice versa. But they kept silent with the strange woman in the room and focused their attention on their sewing. Yet it didn’t keep the glances from passing between them.

“Where did Kieran go?” Jordan asked her cousin.

Jemma’s face came up and she knew she was blushing. “I dunna know. Off to his duties, I suspect. Where is Analiese?”

“Tending our queen,” Jordan said. “She has always wanted to go to court, ye know, and now she actually has a chance to serve the queen while she’s here. She’s in heaven.”

“Mayhap the earl will send her to London when the king and queen return,” Jemma remarked.

Jordan glanced over at her lady-in-waiting, sitting invisibly in the shadows. The woman looked positively lonely and she felt a stab of pity for her. “Aloria, where did ye foster?” she asked simply to bring her into the conversation.

Aloria’s head came up from the book, surprised to be invited to speak. “In Gloucester, my lady. I went to foster when I was five years old.”

Both Jordan and Jemma looked up at her. “What?” Jordan demanded. “Why on earth were ye so young? ’Tis madness.”

Aloria looked at both ladles unemotionally. It had been so long ago that she had forgotten the pain of being abandoned.

“My mother wished it,” she said simply.

“But why?” Jemma asked. “Were ye a naughty child that she dinna want ye around? To be only five years old and fostering is terrible.”

“ ’Twas not so bad,” Aloria murmured into her book. “ ’Twas better than staying home.”

Jordan heard the last sentence, uttered very quietly. She set down her embroidery. “Yer home life was unhappy?”

Her voice was so soft and soothing that Aloria felt herself instantly becoming comfortable with her new mistress’ manner. She could already see she was not at all like the women of Windsor, conniving and petty and nasty. She was gentle and sweet, and had an air of kindness about her. Aloria had never been around anyone such as Lady Jordan and was a bit unbalanced; she had grown terribly accustomed to always being on the defensive.

It had been so long since Aloria had been around decent people she had nearly forgotten how to act. She had never been good at playing court games as it was, and there was something about Lady Jordan that made her want to open up.

“Aye,” she said after a moment. “Verily.”

Jordan felt sorry for the big-boned lass. “Was yer family cruel?”