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ChapterThirteen

“Are the whispers true?”

Amalia had waited until the others left before asking Alden that question.

“About the empress?”

“Nay,” she teased. “About tomorrow’s meal. Some of the servants are saying the cook plans to prepare pudding as a treat for the men.”

Unlike Roland, Alden’s smiles came less often. When he did smile, however, it was genuine. “Do you jest with me, Mistress Amalia?”

“Surely not.”

He moved closer to her on the bench. “They are true,” he said, his voice lowered.

“Does not everyone here know already?” she asked, wondering at the reason for his secrecy.

“The servants,” he said, by way of explanation.

Of course.

“I am a servant, of sorts,” she reminded him.

Alden seemed surprised by her statement. “You are a lady’s maid.”

“But not a lady.”

“Nor am I a knight.”

She’d forgotten that fact, as Alden appeared just like the other men. “Do you wish to be?” It was a bold question. “My apologies. I—”

“No apologies are necessary. Aye, I would very much like to be knighted. The ideals of a knight are ones I, too, value.”

“There are many here, it seems, who could bestow that honor on you.”

Alden didn’t answer immediately. She thought, for a moment, he would not answer at all.

“Perhaps. But I would not ask unless it was earned.”

“In battle?”

“Aye.”

“You do not have to be knighted in battle,” she began, realizing he knew as much already.

“Nor does the title of ‘lady’ make you one,” he gave back.

Amalia deserved the scrutiny, as she’d doled it out first. “In some ways, perhaps not. And I cannot say ’tis the title, precisely, that I wish for. I know we are born into positions and should remain there. But being a farmer’s daughter and becoming a lady’s maid to Evelina has given me ideas.” She stopped. “I burden you with nonsense.”

“Not nonsense at all. Perhaps the queen’s coronation will be just the beginning of attaining that which does not seem attainable?”

“Perhaps,” she said, not truly believing it but neither wanting to burden Alden any further. Amalia moved to the edge of the bench, adjusted her gown, and stood. Her companion did the same as many of the other recruits began to retire from the meal. “I’ve enjoyed speaking with you,” she said sincerely.

“As have I,” Alden said.

With a quick bow, not needing to offer one but in acknowledgment that he was, indeed, a knight in the ways that mattered, Amalia bid the blacksmith’s son a good eve.

Making her way abovestairs, she thought of the conversation. Of the possibility that, after years of civil war, this conflict might truly be at an end. Amalia thought of Evelina and vowed to speak to Sir Eamon on the morrow to ask if there were any updates on her lady’s return.