Page 92
“I’d been attending the Tournament of the North with my father since I was able to ride. He serviced his lord, and others, as the tournament smith.”
Idalia had heard of it, of course. Though she had never attended.
“I’d met Guy the year before. Each day, during the melee, my father gave me leave to walk the grounds as every knight would be on the field at that time. It was during one of these afternoons he and I wandered down to the riverbank.”
Lance picked up the hilt.
“This was once Conrad’s. Or his father’s, to be precise.”
Idalia did not interrupt even though dozens of questions flitted through her mind.
“We spotted two boys who appeared to be our age practicing with their swords. One, tall and thin. The other . . . just thin.” He laughed. “When you meet Terric and Conrad, you’ll never be able to imagine either of them as boys.”
He smiled. Lance did not smile often, but whenever he did, it made Idalia’s heart soar. Whoever these men were to him, he obviously cared very much for them.
“Even then, Guy was good with the sword. When he asked for a turn, the boys obliged easily despite the fact that we were obviously not noble like them.”
“Licheford is the earl now, is he not?”
“Aye, a title he inherited from his father. Terric is also an earl.”
Her brows drew together. The Scot was also an earl?
“Clan chief in Scotland, Earl of Dromsley in England.”
Dromsley. She hated to interrupt again, but that name sounded familiar. She would ask about it later.
“But that summer they were both simply the sons of powerful men practicing with their swords.”
As quickly as his smile had come, it went away. There was something darker to his story, as evidenced by the hilt he held in his hand and the troubled look on his face.
The loud call of a bird interrupted them. Watching as it flew by with its companion, Lance took up his story again.
“Guy heard the scream first. We could not see anything from where we stood, but the sound was easy enough to hear. By the time we reached the wooded area where it originated, Cait was lying on the ground, her gown lifted above her waist.”
His hand gripped the hilt so tightly his knuckles had grown almost white.
“Terric roared, a sound that I will never forget.”
He looked up, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears.
“A man, one of the king’s men, held her down.”
Idalia gasped. “He took her by force?”
“He was attempting to, aye. Thankfully, we arrived in time to prevent it.”
She almost didn’t want to know what had happened next. Looking at the hilt now, its lack of a blade began to make more sense.
Lance shook his head.
“It happened so fast. I ripped the man from Terric’s sister . . .”
Idalia gasped.
“But he was much, much larger than any of us. One punch landed me on the ground. Terric lunged at him, getting between the man and his sister, but he was easily tossed aside as well. Guy was the first to draw blood, his quickness with a sword a boon for a short time until the guard grabbed his own weapon. From there, neither Guy nor Conrad stood a chance.”
Obviously all four of them were alive now. Which meant . . .
