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“It is difficult to find solitude with you accompanying me,” he said to his friend, stopping beside him.

“I would imagine it so.” Darien smiled. Unapologetic. Charming, as usual.

Theirs was an unlikely pairing. If there were anyone at Blackwood more esteemed than Sir Darien Ellsworth of Crimson Hollow, besides Matilda’s own nephew, Alden did not know of them. Son of an earl, he hailed from the mysterious Isle of Ely, a notoriously mysterious but powerful place. The earldom he was set to inherit was one that came with as many questions as it did answers. Yet the two of them, along with another two men, had become close friends when they were first recruited.

“Nearly as difficult as getting you to understand I wish to be alone.”

“You are too often alone.”

“According to?”

“Me. ’Tis not good, your desire for solitude. It makes you broodier than usual.”

Alden rolled his eyes. “We are not the same. I enjoy being alone, though I know that you do not.”

“Who wishes to be alone when the opportunity to converse with a friend such as me is present?”

“You are absurd.”

“No more so than you. He did not slight you.”

“This has naught to do with Aldric. I wish for some peace from their constant chatter.”

“It has all to do with Aldric. If not for him, we would be in there”—he waved toward their quarters—“rather than in the corridor. I know the man, and his intent was not to demean you.”

Alden opened his mouth to offer a retort but Darien continued. “I know it well enough that I did not beat him bloody, which I’d have done if he had actually dared disparage you, or your family, in any way.”

How could he argue with such a sentiment? Darien’s loyalty—one Alden would return tenfold, as he would any cause or relationship to which he was committed—was commendable.

“I wish only for a few moments of peace and will return without delay.”

Since their two other friends were married, only Alden and Darien remained at the knights’ quarters together, and though Darien had forged a friendship with most of the men at Blackwood, Alden was not as close to the others as he was to Darien, Gareth, and Roland. Alden appreciated such kinship even if it was, at times, more than he wished for.

This eve was one of those times. Unlike Darien, he did not thrive on the constant companionship of others.

“Very well,” Darien conceded. “That was quite a feat, laying your opponent on the ground during training as you did.”

It was, though Alden would never admit as much aloud, even to Darien. Gloating did not align with the knightly virtues he adhered to, despite that he was not yet a knight.

“I will return,” Alden said instead. “You would do well to remain in our quarters rather than seeking out the maid.”

That earned a frown from Darien, who had been pursuing a serving maid with ties to one of the order’s founding nobles. Some said she was the man’s mistress, which did not bode well for an entanglement, but Darien and caution did not mix.

“Perhaps.” Darien’s smile told Alden that he was unlikely to return to their quarters now that Alden was leaving. “And perhaps not.”

Contemplating the consequences for his friend if Darien’s entanglement with the maid became a problem, he wandered outside into the smaller of three inner courtyards. Castle Blackwood was massive, and their order was lucky to have it as their training grounds. This particular courtyard, the smallest of the three, boasted fragrant herbs, blooming flowers, and the soothing sound of trickling fountains. It was a rare spot with few visitors, and Alden sat on a stone bench, looking up at the sky.

He watched the stars for a few moments, thinking of his siblings, especially of his youngest sister. Alden missed her the most and knew she would feel the same. As the oldest of five, he was protective of all his siblings, but she, as the youngest, had the mildest of temperaments, and he often worried about her well-being.

Alden lowered his gaze to look around the courtyard, it was one he’d been to many times, though it appeared very different in the dark. With the torches that dotted the parapets and moon as the only two sources of light, he was surprised to see something he had overlooked before.

Standing, he made his way toward the wall of hedges. Was that . . . a door? It could not be. He tried to remember when looking down from above the castle walls what was beyond this wall. Trees. Climbing vines. Overhanging foliage. Perhaps concealing something?

He pushed the moss-covered door, which opened to . . . another courtyard.

How was it possible he had never noticed it before?

Closing the door behind him, Alden looked up. As he remembered, it was completely covered and therefore hidden from view from above. At the center of the small courtyard stood a large fountain, its sound mingling with the others from where he just came.