Chapter 24

 

Two days passed. Two days in which, for the first time in her life, Alexia felt like a princess rather than a protector. Aye, the friar had always treated her with love and dignity, but from the moment he’d taken her into the forest, she’d been in training—physically, mentally, and spiritually. She’d had to learn to do battle, both with bow and arrow and without. She’d had to learn the secrets of the forest—how to climb, hunt, fish, and forage. She’d had to learn to receive and hone her spiritual gift of discernment. And most important of all, she’d had to learn the Words of the Holy Book, which the friar told her was the most powerful sword she could ever wield.

Hence, she’d never been treated like a cherished treasure, delicate and precious. In truth, she’d never wanted to be treated thus, as if she were weak, in need of protection, dependent on a man. She was Alexia D’Clere, God’s warrior and Protector of the Spear, a woman who had defeated dozens of knights and sent many more running for their lives.

But here, in this place…with this knight—this man who carried her around as if she were a precious vase—her emotions swirled unbidden to places they’d never gone before.

Thankfully, neither of them spoke of the passionate kiss they’d shared. Nor did they speak of Ronar’s past. In fact, Ronar had made her promise that for two days they would not speak of any of their trials or troubles. A respite from life, he had called it. What surprised her the most was how much she enjoyed this brief foray from reality—how much she looked forward to every minute spent in this man’s company.

They took long rides through fields of wild flowers, and more than once, Ronar stopped to gather her a colorful bouquet. One day, he prepared a picnic beside a crystal blue lake. Another day, he took her to the top of the highest hill where a majestic view stole her breath. And each night they enjoyed their meal at the manor house with an abundance of wine and laughter.

After a fire destroyed two homes in the village, Ronar spent a day helping the people rebuild. Unable to assist, Alexia could only sit in the shade and try to stifle her rising admiration—to no avail—for this humble earl who worked alongside his serfs as if he were one of them. No wonder he had garnered their undying adoration and devotion.

Each evening as they sat before the fire, they spent hours discussing all manner of topics. From the legends of King Arthur, poems of Dante, and music of Jehan de Lescurel, to the king, what type of man he really was, and what the king’s court was like. And together they chuckled at the pompous power struggles that oft made fools of wise men. She particularly enjoyed his humorous stories about his friends Jarin and Damien, some of which she’d have to share with her sister—if Alexia ever made it home again.

Alexia found Ronar to be educated, well spoken, gallant in every way, and growing more handsome with every passing moment—especially when he looked at her with that mischievous twinkle in his eye and a smile that bespoke of a growing affection that matched her own.

In truth, she found it difficult to believe the stories of his past. Alas, she could hardly believe he had been anything but the noble man before her.

Yet now at the dawn of their fifth day at Rivenhall, with her ankle feeling much better, Alexia feared her enchanted world was soon coming to an end. She must return to protect her sister, and Ronar was duty-bound by his king to find the Spear.

A Spear she felt even now weighing down her chemise as they broke their morning fast with eggs, bread, and fresh raspberries.

“Today, Lady Falcon, I insist you teach me your secret of archery.” He winked at her like a naughty school boy.

She raised a brow. “Surely a well-trained knight as yourself knows how to shoot a bow and arrow.”

“Aye, but not with your skill.”

“’Tis more than skill, Sir Knight,” she teased.

“Show me and we shall see.” With that he rose from the table, hoisted her in his arms, and carried her outside.

“You’ve no need to carry me around anymore, Ronar. My ankle is healed.”

“Mayhap, but I rather enjoy it.” His smile, along with the look in his eyes, caused her insides to melt in a most pleasurable way. Something that had been happening much of late.

He placed her down in the courtyard and went to retrieve her bow and arrow. Oddly, though it had been strung over her shoulder more oft than not these last nine years, she hadn’t thought of it once during the past week.

She watched him walk to the stables, admiring the authoritative gait that was uniquely his, the slope of his shoulders as if he carried a heavy burden, and the way the wind played among the strands of his brown hair as he disappeared from sight. He wore his usual leather boots, breeches, tunic and doublet, crisscrossed with belts that housed a sword and knives. Even here on his estate, she’d never seen him without his weapons.

Dark clouds swept in overhead, deepening the shadows, and sending a chill through her. An omen of things to come? She hugged herself and closed her eyes, sensing her angel nearby and something else—she spun around—something dark in the distance.

Not yet, Lord. Allow me another day.

Ronar appeared, holding her bow and quiver, his smile so bright, all her dour thoughts instantly swept away. He assisted her out the back gate and into a small, forested area beyond the manor wall, then handed her the bow and a single arrow.

“Pray, show me how you fire so fast and accurately that it seems you are an army of archers. And of course, while flying through the trees like a falcon.” He grinned.

Snagging the bow, she gave him a look of challenge, then nocked the arrow and shifted it over the forest, seeking a target that would impress the knight. Why she cared to do so, she didn’t want to ponder at the moment. But for some reason, ’twas vitally important to garner his respect.

Though she could oft tell from his eyes, she’d achieved a great deal of it already.

“The knot on the trunk of the pine.”

He followed her gaze, squinted, and finally nodded.

Closing her eyes, she released the arrow.

Ronar bolted through the trees, returning with it in hand and a look of shock on his face. “You struck it in the center.” He raked back his hair and huffed. “From at least thirty yards.”

“Is that all? I must be out of practice.” Positioning another arrow, she sought a target farther away. “That hawthorn tree. See the berries hanging from the low branch.”

Seconds passed as he squinted in that direction. “I can hardly make them out. Aye, I see it now.”

“The berry at the bottom.”

He laughed. “Surely you—”

She let the arrow fly. With a snort of disbelief, Ronar plunged through the foliage to retrieve it. When he returned, he stared at her as if she were a ghost. “Show me your secret.”

“It’ll cost you, Sir Knight.” She smiled.

His gaze dropped to her lips. “A kiss?”

“That would be your prize. What of mine?”

He gave her that smile that suffocated her senses.

Hogtoes! Was she that obvious? “’Twould seem you have too high an opinion of your charms, Sir Knight.” Then fearing he’d see her rising blush, she handed him the bow and took a position behind him. “Hold it like this.” The man was a fortress. She could hardly reach her arms around him to show him the proper grip. His leather doublet rubbed against her cheek, his warmth seeped into her skin, and his scent made her dizzy. What was wrong with her? She was no fawning maiden. Gather your wits, Alexia!

“I find I’m already getting much out of this lesson, my lady.” He turned his face to look at her.

“Hush, Knight, and pay attention. See that pine cone stuck between two branches.”

He nodded.

“Do not aim the arrow at it, merely keep the target in your sight. Now, stand sideways, feet spread, shoulders back, and pull the bow toward your ear lobe until the fletching touches it. You can use your cheek too, but you must use the same point each time. Do not touch the arrow, and keep your eye on the target.”

His body stiffened as he pulled back the twine and sighted his target. The man was not unfamiliar with the bow. He released the arrow and struck the pine cone, splitting it in half.

“You make me a fool, Sir Knight, for you have no need of my instruction.”

He turned so quickly she stumbled backward, and he caught her by the arms. “’Tis but ten yards, and the cone was large, not the size of a Hawthorne berry.”

“Your form is good, your eye expert, you need but practice.” She limped away from him, grateful to put distance between them.

“For all the practice in the kingdom, I could not hit a moving target at forty yards as you do. Nor with such speed and accuracy.”

A burst of wind tossed Alexia’s hair in her face, and she shoved it aside.

He studied her quizzically. “What is it you are not telling me, Lady Falcon?”

“Something you would not believe, Sir Knight.”

“Try me and I’ll grant you that kiss.”

 

♥♥♥

 

Ronar chastised himself for bargaining a kiss with this lady, but he’d been staring at her lips ever since he’d carried her downstairs that morn.

But instead of abhorrence at his untoward suggestion, she laughed. “As I have said, what makes you think I desire another kiss, Sir Knight?”

“Mayhap your reaction to the last one.”

She looked away, pink blossoming on her cheeks. “Vain goad. ’Twas your reaction you speak of. And I do not barter such intimacies.”

“Then what favor have I to grant you?”

“My freedom.” Her tone bore no humor this time.

An ache formed in his gut. “Have you not felt free these past days, Alexia? Free from the constant pain and trouble that plagues our lives?”

She gave a sad smile and nodded. “I have. And I am grateful to you for it.”

Ronar approached and stood before her, longing for a glimpse of those lustrous green eyes.

His wish was granted when she raised her gaze to his, studying him with an intimacy that stirred a part of his heart long since dormant.

Then much to his surprise, she reached up and ran fingers over his jaw, delicate fingers, loving fingers. “I have felt many things this past week, Ronar, things which I never thought I’d feel.”

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, never taking his eyes off hers, never wanting the connection between them to sever. Though she had attempted to braid her hair, fiery strands had loosened and now danced in the breeze over her bodice and down her back. Lowering her hand, he reached for one, longing to caress it between his fingers, but she moved away, chest heaving. And he couldn’t help but be pleased to see his effect on her.

Hoisting the quiver onto her back, she took the bow and arrow from him, an impish gleam in her eye. “The trick is to learn to pull arrow after arrow from the quiver and fire them all in one fluid movement. Like this.” Positioning an arrow, she scanned the forest with the expertise and intensity of a trained warrior. Then ere he could blink, she fired at something, withdrew an arrow, nocked it and fired again, then again and again—never stopping to aim or even breathe.

Smiling, she lowered the bow and gestured for him to examine her work. Thirty yards away Ronar found a series of shattered pine cones, some in trees, others on the ground, one on top of boulder. Shaking his head, he retrieved the arrows and returned to her.

“Most impressive, Lady Falcon. But how do you maintain such accuracy whilst flying through trees?”

She took the arrows. “Practice. Many hours of practice.”

“I fail to see what would prompt you to practice from trees when the game you seek can be easily caught on the ground.”

“Some game is best hunted from above.”

“Like knights?” He cocked a brow.

She looked away and replaced the arrows in her quiver.

“But to your secret, my lady?”

“Very well.” She smiled and scanned the forest once again. “That Birch nigh forty yards away.”

Ronar found it then faced her just as she closed her eyes, pulled back the string, and released the arrow.

Closed her eyes? Impossible. Yet, moments later Ronar found the arrow embedded perfectly in the center of the trunk.

“You closed your eyes,” he said, upon returning, still not believing what he’d seen.

“Aye, ’tis the Spirit that guides me.”

“The Spirit?”

“Of God. He dwells within those who have received Christ.”

He snorted. “God lives within mere humans?”

“His Word tells us thus.”

Ronar frowned, disappointment threatening to unravel his joy of the past few days. “More blasphemy.”

“More truth, Sir Knight. You said it yourself. ’Twould be impossible to shoot so accurately from such a distance while leaping from branch to branch. The Spirit guides me. He reveals things no human eye can see.”

“What things?”

“Spirits, both light and dark, good and evil. Targets too far for me to hit with my natural eye.”

He gave a cynical chuckle. “You see angels?”

She nodded.

“And I suppose devils as well.”

“Aye. The Bible calls it discerning of spirits. I’ve had the gift since I was young. Even as a small child, I saw things in my chamber—beings of light who took me in flight over forest and lakes. My parents bade me keep silent, lest I be hailed a witch.”

Ronar studied her, his doubts rising. “Then why couldn’t you discern the evil within Sir LeGode? Why, after spending two years serving at Luxley, couldn’t you discern who was poisoning your sister, or even that she was being poisoned?”

She released a long sigh and limped to sit on a fallen log. “To my shame, whenever I am overly nervous or fearful, I cannot see into the realm beyond ours, no matter how hard I try. My emotions overwhelm me, and despite my every effort, I cannot quiet them.”

Something Ronar could well understand. After his sister had plunged to her death, rage and agony had consumed him, filling his head with whispers that bade him end it all as she had done, to throw himself in harm’s way in battle or simply follow her off the same cliff. Something or someone had preserved him through those times, and he’d learned to barricade his feelings behind a shield of self-control.

Still—he shook his head—seeing angels and devils? He hated his own skepticism, but more than that, he hated the pain it caused in Alexia’s eyes. “Tell me, Alexia, is there an angel here with us now?”

She pondered his request for a moment, then closed her eyes. Ronar watched as her breath settled and her lips began to move in silent prayer. After several moments, she opened her eyes and lifted her chin. “There are two here with us. My angel and yours. Mine stands to my left and yours is behind you.”

Ronar turned but saw nothing. Not that he expected to. But he’d hoped to somehow validate this lady’s claim, to prove she wasn’t as mad as she sounded, that he hadn’t fallen in love with a…in love? Indeed. He could not deny it now.

Alexia stood. “You think me mad. Mayhap even a witch.”

He longed to erase the pain from her eyes, bring back the joy he’d seen just moments ago. “I don’t know what I think.”

“Ronar, you have the Spirit living within you as well. I’ve seen it. You merely have to learn to hear His voice, to recognize His leading.” She glanced around the forest with an awe he’d not seen in her before. “There is a realm beyond ours, one you cannot imagine, filled with good and evil and battles and glory and”—she breathed a sigh and smiled—“endless wonders. ’Tis more real than this place and ’tis the destination of all when we breathe our last—some to the darkness, others to the light.”

“You speak of heaven and hell. I know of these things.”

“They are closer than you think. As are the beings who live in either place.”

Truth beamed from her eyes. He wanted to believe her. To believe God gave powers to His followers, that Ronar had more than his sword and wits to defeat the darkness he so often sensed around him.

But ’twas far too incredible.

She stiffened and her gaze suddenly shifted back to the forest.

Dark clouds swallowed up the sun overhead, drowning the trees in shadows.

Ronar listened. His ears were well trained to detect any danger coming—men’s breath, sword’s screeching from sheaths, horse hooves. But there was nothing but the rustle of leaves and whistle of wind and chirp of—wait, why had the birds suddenly gone silent?

“What is it?” he asked.

Alexia tightened her grip on her bow and drew an arrow. “The angels have drawn their swords.”