Path to Honor (Knights of Honor Book 9)
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Synopsis
1388 A.D. – Lord Tristan Therolde is a broken man who has closed himself off from all feelings. He is working to rebuild Leventhorpe, his estate, and wants to find his sister a husband. Tristan travels to Sandbourne, which boasts of having the best horses in all of England, hoping to add to his livestock and breed horses. When he arrives, he meets a most unusual woman and fights his attraction to her.
Nan de Montfort may not be accomplished in womanly arts, but she can do anything a man can—especially when it comes to archery. Skilled with both a crossbow and longbow, Nan is training her cousin's soldiers in warfare when a handsome nobleman arrives and catches her interest like no man has before.
Nan comes from a family where everyone marries for love and is bitterly disappointed when she discovers Tristan denies that love even exists. She rejects his offer of marriage because she refuses to compromise and settle for less than she deserves, leaving both of them heartbroken. When Tristan discovers Nan's life is in danger, he rides to her rescue and realizes the spirited beauty was right all along—that love is real and lasting—but will he be able to share his discovery with Nan?
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Each book in the Knights of Honor series is a standalone story that can be enjoyed in any order.
Series Order:
Book #1 Word of Honor
Book #2 Marked by Honor
Book #3 Code of Honor
Book #4 Journey to Honor
Book #5 Heart of Honor
Book #6 Bold in Honor
Book #7 Love and Honor
Book#8 Gift of Honor
Book #9 Path to Honor
Release date: September 13, 2018
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Print pages: 235
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
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Path to Honor (Knights of Honor Book 9)
Alexa Aston
PROLOGUE
Kinwick Castle—July, 1376
Nan de Montfort held the tip of her wooden sword to Drewett Stollar’s throat, daring the page to move. He lay flat on his back, his face red from anger and exertion. She had a feeling that he might begin to cry if she did not let him sit up soon. It would serve him right for all the taunts he’d thrown her way since he’d come to foster at Kinwick last fall. Drewett had returned early from his summer visit to his home and already she wished him gone again.
“You’re a cheater, Nan,” he loudly complained as his eyes darted around to see if anyone within hearing distance might be listening to his accusation.
The sound of clanging steel continued around them. Nan gave Drewett a triumphant smile, knowing none of the pairs of soldiers in the training yard would could to the grumbling boy’s rescue.
A shadow fell across Drewett. “What have we here?”
Nan recognized Gilbert’s voice but refused to acknowledge his interruption. The murderous look in Drewett’s eyes told her that she didn’t dare look away for even a moment.
“I bested him,” she said with confidence, making sure not to sound as if she bragged. She knew the captain of Kinwick’s guard would be proud of her. She’d overheard Gilbert confiding to her father how lazy and untrustworthy Drewett remained, despite everything Gilbert had tried to teach the young boy.
“Let this page up,” Lord Geoffrey de Montfort instructed as he joined Gilbert.
Reluctantly, Nan took a small step back and let her sword hang at her side. With her father present, she knew Drewett wouldn’t try anything foolish—but she would have to remain on her guard for the next few days. The page had a long memory and a short fuse and would do what he could to make Nan pay for embarrassing him, even though she doubted any man in the training yard had paid a bit of attention to the two tussling seven-year-olds.
“Stand alongside one another,” her father instructed as Drewett rolled to his feet and reclaimed his sword that lay in the dirt where she had kicked it beyond Drewett’s reach.
Nan held her ground, which made Drewett have to come to her. He stood so close that their shoulders almost touched. She knew the boy wanted to intimidate her. Little did he know that nothing he could do would intimidate her. Growing up with three older brothers had already taught her to be fearless and strong.
“She cheated, Lord Geoffrey,” whined Drewett.
Nan cringed inside, knowing her father hated anyone telling tales. She almost felt sorry for the boy standing beside her.
Almost.
When Geoffrey remained silent, Drewett continued. “I know Lady Anne is your daughter but she does not fight fair. Knights are supposed to be fair.” The page glanced in her direction and sneered. “You can’t even be a knight. You’re just a girl. You have no idea what fairness is about.”
Nan didn’t know what irked her more—hearing herself called Anne or having Drewett point out she was a girl. She never went by Anne.
And she was a girl who could do anything a boy could. Even be a knight if she put her mind to it.
“Aye, Drewett, knights do act honorably,” Geoffrey agreed pleasantly as he came to stand in front of the pair, towering over them. Then the warmth left his voice. “But in war, all is fair. You have a definite height advantage over Nan. A longer reach, as well. You also outweigh her and might have worn her down in time.”
Nan bit her tongue to keep from speaking. She could have danced circles around this stupid boy for hours if need be. Though irritated, she allowed the lesson her father was trying to teach the fool to continue to unfold.
“Nan, what did you do to secure such an advantage over Drewett? When I arrived, your opponent had a sword at his throat and his weapon was well out of reach.”
Keeping a smile from her face, Nan solemnly replied, “I snaked my foot around his ankle in order to trip him, Father.”
Geoffrey also kept a stern look on his face but Nan knew he was secretly pleased. He directed his words to the page.
“You must always fight to win, Drewett. ‘Tis important not only to protect yourself but those around you. And you must be able to count on the man next to you. These are important things to remember.”
“But she isn’t a man, my lord,” the boy huffed. “She shouldn’t even be in the training yard. Lady Anne will never be a knight. I don’t see why I have to partner with her.”
Nan froze at the page’s words. She wanted to turn and shake some sense into him.
Geoffrey knelt so that his eyes were level with Drewett’s. Nan glanced at her father and saw the ice in his hazel eyes which now burned bright green as he glared at the boy.
“Lady Nan has more integrity and honor in her smallest toe than you do running through your entire body, Drewett Stollars.”
His tone was ever so soft but one that frightened Nan. She’d only heard it on a few occasions and vowed never to do anything to disappoint her father so that he used it with her.
“Today is a turning point in your young life,” he told the trembling page. “Either you will move forward and choose to become the best man you can be from this moment on—or you will go elsewhere. I’ll not have someone I’m responsible for with such an abysmal attitude.
“The choice is yours.”
Nan held her breath, wondering what Drewett would do.
The boy turned to face her. She saw both misery and regret mingling on his features and knew it was for her to take the high road. Nan gave him an encouraging smile. She saw him relax and heard the long breath he exhaled.
“Lady Nan,” he began, “I am sorry that I have offended you in the past.”
She noted the use of her preferred name and inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement of it and their unpleasant encounters over the past several months.
“You are not a cheater. You are an excellent sparring partner and I can learn much from you. Will you accept my humble apology?”
The hungry look in his eyes begged not only for forgiveness—but acceptance. Nan decided that mayhap she had intimidated this boy and he now offered her an olive branch.
“I will,” she assured him. “I hope that we can be not only sparring partners but also friends.”
For the first time since he’d arrived at Kinwick, Drewett Stollars smiled. Nan beamed at him. He gave her a stiff bow and she returned it. A glow filled her. She believed that she had made a friend.
“Well done,” pronounced Geoffrey as he rose to his full height. “Gilbert, will you see young Drewett has something to do. I am in need of time with my daughter.” He smiled at her. “Let’s walk, Nan.”
“I’ll care for you sword, my lady,” Drewett said eagerly and reached out.
Nan passed the weapon to him, amazed at the change that had come over the boy. Her father took her small hand in his large one and they set out from the training yard. These were the hours Nan cherished most. Geoffrey de Montfort was a busy man so when he made time to spend just with her, she treasured every moment. He’d recently returned from London, where he’d left her brother Ancel to protect Richard, the king’s grandson, so this was the first time since he’d come back that they’d been alone together.
They walked in companionable silence through the castle grounds and out the gates. Geoffrey headed toward the meadow. Nan had roamed the estate since she could walk and knew more about it than anyone except her father. She often brought things to his attention that she had noticed, whether it was a fence needing repair or how a tree was growing.
Finally, he spoke.
“King Edward has died. I received a missive this morning. It happened a little over a week ago.”
It saddened Nan to think the old king had passed. He had come to Kinwick on summer progress several times. Though she could only recall a vague image of the monarch, she remembered him being kind to her, even slipping her a sweetmeat when no one was looking. He teased about how they both had a sweet tooth and that one day he would be successful in stealing Cook away from Kinwick. He would bring the servant to the Palace of Westminster and be able to eat her fruit tarts every day.
“That means Richard is our new king? Even though he’s so young?” she asked.
“Aye. The old king had an idea he would not last long. ‘Tis why he requested I bring Ancel to London to watch over his grandson. Your brother will be a member of King Richard’s royal guard. Richard knows how loyal de Montforts are to the crown and that Ancel will look out for him and always keep his best interests at heart.”
Nan would miss Ancel. Living in London or in the other royal residences, he wouldn’t be able to come home very often. At least she still had Hal and Edward with her. They fostered at Winterbourne, which was directly to the north of Kinwick, and both brothers were home now on their summer break. Nan had begged Hal to teach her how to shoot a bow and arrow yesterday and he’d promised they would start their lessons this afternoon. Excitement filled her at the idea of learning how to use a new, powerful weapon.
“Have you thought anymore about fostering?” her father asked.
“Only if Lord Hardwin lets me serve as his page,” Nan promptly replied.
At seven, Nan could leave Kinwick to foster. Boys always did and sometimes girls did, too, but Nan wasn’t interested in learning anything some older noblewoman might try to teach her. She’d had never been interested in anything remotely involving a castle, unless it was in regard to its defense. Who cared about how to make candles or scent rushes?
“Fostering with Hardie is not a choice for you, Nan. Nor is being a page at any nobleman’s estate.” He paused. “Mayhap your mother and I should send you to court for a few years as we did Alys.”
“No,” Nan said forcefully. “Besides, Alys only stayed at court until the queen died. Then she was allowed to come home.”
Geoffrey squeezed her hand. “I suppose we could come to a compromise and allow you to stay at Kinwick. I will teach you what I can and your mother can do the same.”
Nan stopped and tugged on him. “You’ve already talked about this with Mother, haven’t you?” she asked.
He grinned. “How did you become so clever? You must take after Merryn.” He searched her face. “This will give you the best of both worlds.”
Nan decided she could tolerate whatever her mother wished her to learn. She even promised herself she would do it with a smile on her face because she would still have plenty of time to learn what she really cared about—everything Geoffrey de Montfort could teach her. He was a great soldier and nobleman. He had been to the wars in France and advised the king at court. She would soak up everything he shared with her—and still learn how to make those stupid candles.
“So, Happy Wanderer, what do I need to know?”
She loved her father’s pet name for her. Every time he used it, she stood taller and radiated happiness.
“I think we should go see Joseph,” she suggested, knowing the falconer always looked forward to showing off his raptors to the earl. “He has been training three new eyases. You will be surprised how much they’ve grown, Father, since the last time you saw them.”
“An excellent idea,” Geoffrey proclaimed.
They crossed the meadow and headed toward the road. From there, they would cut through the woods to reach the falconer’s cottage where he trained Kinwick’s peregrines.
As they left the road to enter the woods, an odd sound brought both of them to a halt. Nan cocked her ear upward, listening.
A faint cry sounded. She wondered if it belonged to some animal in a trap, yet something told her it was no animal.
It was human.
“This way,” she said, pulling on her father’s hand and walking rapidly.
Nan spied a basket and slowed. Another tiny mewl sounded. She broke away and ran toward it. The basket was large and had a tall handle. Cushioned in the bottom was a blanket of dull brown. Atop the blanket lay a small babe. Its bare feet kicked out. Nan had seen a few babes around the estate when she had been dragged along by her mother to visit tenants, but as the youngest of the de Montfort children, she had no experience being around any.
She gently touched the babe’s head and a coo came from the infant. Nan would have sworn the babe actually smiled at her. She took its tiny hand in hers and was surprised by the strong grip as the littlest fingers she’d ever seen wrapped around one of hers.
Her father knelt beside the basket and smiled. He lifted the babe and brought it to his chest.
“What are you doing here all alone, little one?” he asked softly and brushed his lips against the blond fuzz of the child’s head.
A sick feeling overwhelmed Nan. “Someone left it here.”
Geoffrey nodded. “Her,” he said. “’Tis a girl.”
“Why would someone do that?” Nan asked, anguish filling her. Then anger replaced it. “She could have died out here, Father.”
“But she didn’t.” He paused. “We will do our best to find her parents but if we can’t—or they don’t wish to be found?” He smiled at the child, whose feet continued to dance back and forth. “Merryn and I will take you in,” he promised the babe.
He placed the child gently back into the basket and rose to his feet. Nan wrapped the blanket around her protectively.
“Something tells me that you have found the newest de Montfort, Nan. This child will be your sister. You’ve been close to Hal and Edward since they were near your age and they’ve influenced you quite a bit. I think ‘twill be good for you to have a sister to care for.”
Nan knew how much her mother loved babes. Her parents had recently returned from visiting their first grandchildren, Philippa and Wyatt. Her sister, Alys, had given birth to the twins in March and had begged them to visit. Nan had chosen to remain at Kinwick, having no interest in people who couldn’t talk or walk, much less how all the conversations her mother and Alys had seemed to revolve around herbs and healing.
But this babe called out to something deep within her. Though she had no interest in the womanly arts, Nan felt a strong pull toward this child.
“If we cannot find her parents, can I name her?” she asked.
Geoffrey lifted the basket by its handle and smiled down at the babe. “I think she’d like that.”
“Jessimond,” Nan said. “I want to call her Jessimond.”
CHAPTER 1
Sandbourne—April, 1388
Tristan Therolde urged his horse on, impatient to reach Sandbourne and see the horseflesh available there. He’d become interested in breeding horses and both Stephen and Toby encouraged him in this pursuit. He glanced to where both men rode to his left and right and tamped down the emotion that threatened to flare up. These two knights had fostered with him. They had known one another since they were boys polishing armor and running errands, as all pages did. Other than Dawkin, his captain of the guard at Thorpe Castle, these men were the only ones he trusted.
Life had taught him to be guarded.
“That should be it,” called out Toby as he pointed straight ahead.
Tristan picked up the pace. The sooner they arrived at Sandbourne and he conducted his business, the sooner they could return to Leventhorpe lands. He never fully relaxed outside the walls of Thorpe Castle—and was only beginning to learn to do so inside them.
The trio approached the gates. Tristan spoke to the gatekeeper, who knew they were expected and open the gates for them to enter. The outer bailey buzzed with activity as they passed from it into the inner bailey. He saw an elegantly dressed woman awaiting them at the keep and motioned for his men to follow him to where she stood.
As they approached, Tristan assessed her as he did everyone that crossed his path. She was taller than the average woman, with a willowy frame and a long blond braid that skirted her waist. Mayhap two score or a bit more, her radiant beauty still shone.
He dismounted and went to greet her as his knights remained in the saddle.
“Greetings, my lord,” she said in a low voice. “I am Lady Elysande Devereux, Countess of Sandbourne. I assume you are Lord Tristan, Earl of Leventhorpe.”
He kissed the proffered hand. “Aye, my lady, here to spend time with your husband and see his horses, which I hear are some of the best in southern England.”
She laughed. “You mean my horses? And to be clear, my lord, they are the best in all of England.”
Tristan frowned at her presumptuous words. “I corresponded with Lord Michael Devereux regarding the matter,” he said curtly.
He recalled during a brief trip to London hearing that Sandbourne’s horses were the best to be had but also something about the earl’s wife knowing much about horses. Tristan had brushed that off as ignorant gossip. A woman knowing more than a man about anything bordered on the ridiculous.
“True,” the noblewoman acknowledged. “You wrote to Michael and he respectfully answered your missive.” Her eyes blazed. “But if you wish to discuss horses and consider purchasing any, you will deal directly with me, my lord.”
His temper flared. “See here, Lady Elysande—”
She held up a hand and he bit back the unflattering words about to fly from his mouth. If these horses were as good as others claimed, it wouldn’t do to insult Lord Michael’s wife. Some women had wormed their way into their husband’s hearts and whispered into their ear in order to have their say. This lady seemed as one who might be one of those. Disappointment filled him for he had been looking forward to meeting Devereux after hearing so many complimentary things about the nobleman.
A stern look crossed her face and color heightened her cheeks. “You are a guest, my lord, and will be accorded every courtesy, but one thing must remain perfectly clear from the start of our conversation. I will be the one who decides if you are worthy to purchase any horse from our stable. I am the one who breeds and trains every horse sired at Sandbourne. I have taught my husband much about horseflesh over the years, but he will be the one to confirm to you that I control everything regarding Sandbourne’s stables.”
Then she gave him a sweet smile. “I know many men do not hold women in high esteem, nor do they believe that a woman can be an expert on anything beyond birthing babes or weaving tapestries. You will find things very different at Sandbourne.” She paused. “I hope we have not gotten off on the wrong foot, my lord. Why don’t we take your horses to be watered and fed and you can look over some of our mounts? We can also go to the enclosure, where more of our horses are kept.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Tristan had the good sense to offer her his arm while he kept his horse’s reins in his free hand. He did not bother to glance at either Stephen or Toby, knowing both knights probably hid smiles after listening to him being dressed down by this woman. If he liked any horses, he would see that he purchased them—even if he had to grovel to Lady Elysande.
He also had something else on his mind and would see if that, too, could be accomplished during this brief visit to Sandbourne. The time drew near for his sister to be betrothed and wed. At ten and seven, Gillian was already a grown woman, both beautiful and sweet-natured. Tristan rarely ventured from his estate and hadn’t made the appropriate contacts necessary in order to arrange a desirable match for her. If Lord Michael had any sons that would make for a good husband, Tristan would discuss an agreement between them.
As they strolled to the stables, Lady Elysande pointed out things along the way and was greeted in a friendly manner by everyone they passed. Though she had been sharp with him, the noblewoman spoke to those working at the castle with kindness—and that courtesy was returned. It wasn’t hard to see that she was beloved by her workers. That spoke in her favor. Still, it confused him why her husband would allow her to be in charge of such a vital part of his estate. Mayhap Lord Michael simply let his wife think she was and fooled her into believing she had control over the horses they bred and sold.
A cheer went up as they came to the training yard. An archery contest appeared to be going on in the sectioned off butts. Knowing how Toby enjoyed showing his prowess with a bow and arrow, he looked to his friend and saw a huge grin on his face.
Lady Elysande must have seen it, too, for she said, “If you wish, my lord, your men can allow our stable hands to care for their horses so they can remain in the training yard. Would you care to do so?”
“Aye, my lady,” responded Toby with enthusiasm. “I am Sir Toby. This is Sir Stephen. We would very much like to watch—and mayhap participate—in this contest.”
Tristan grimaced. He should have introduced his men when they arrived but Lady Elysande had thrown him so that he’d neglected his good manners. Not that he used them much anymore. He dined alone every meal and rarely met with others in the nobility. His manners had grown rusty with disuse. He hoped that wouldn’t reflect upon him poorly when it came time to negotiate a price.
“I am pleased to meet you both,” she said graciously. She lifted her hand from where it rested on Tristan’s arm. “Give me your reins and tell me your horses’ names. I will see they are cared for.”
Both men introduced their horses to her as if they were allowing her to meet people for the first time. She stroked each horse and spoke directly to it and then asked the knights questions about their mounts. Satisfied with their answers, she dismissed them and they eagerly hurried to the butts.
As they led the three horses to the stables, she said, “And what of your horse, my lord? What can you tell me about him?”
Tristan groaned inwardly but pushed forward, intending to humor her. He told her the horse’s name, making one up on the spot since he’d never bothered before. He shared where he’d bought it and a little about its sire and dam.
“But what else? What does he like to eat? What little treats do you spoil him with? Does he enjoy cantering or a full gallop? Are his bowel movements regular?”
Tristan looked blankly at her. He couldn’t answer any of those questions.
Lady Elysande gave him a withering look. “I am not quite sure why you are here, my lord. You say you are interested in breeding and training horses. I only sell a small part of my stock each year and then only to a select few. Why should I sell you any horse at all when you come to me so ill prepared?”
“Because I need something to occupy my time,” he admitted gruffly. “I’m not much for being around people. I thought spending my time with horses would prove worthwhile.”
Her whole being changed as she beamed at him. “That is the first honest thing that has come from you. Horses can do so much for us. They can befriend us. Nurture us. Even heal us.” She studied him for a long moment. “I think you have been deeply hurt, my lord. I promise you that working with horses will be the first step on your road to recovery.”
He visibly cringed at her response.
“You may have revealed more to me than you would have chosen, Lord Tristan,” she said softly, “but you have come to the right place. I hope you choose to spend some time at Sandbourne.”
They led the horses to the entrance of the stables. Tristan remained silent, feeling naked after what had passed between them. Two lads met them and Lady Elysande instructed them on the names of each horse and the preferences she’d learned from Toby and Stephen before the boys led the three animals away.
“Let’s start in the stables and then go to the meadow,” she suggested.
Tristan let her lead him about, discovering she was a fount of knowledge. Within minutes, he learned that stallions usually would breed the mare in the summer and that the gestation lasted around eleven months, leading to foals being born in the spring and early summer. Though a stallion could breed as early as two years of age, Lady Elysande recommended waiting until the male turned four because early breeding could affect the growth of the offspring. The same held true for mares, which could carry a foal by the time they turned eighteen months, but the noblewoman also liked to wait until they were more mature.
“Foals can walk and then even run a few hours after birth. Though they drink plenty of their mother’s milk, they also might nibble at hay or grass,” she shared.
“So this is a busy time of year for you,” Tristan said. By now, he did not question that this woman knew exactly what she spoke of. He regretted questioning her authority.
“Aye. I have spent several nights in the stables recently with mares ready to deliver or even with those in the enclosed meadow. Michael is good enough to wait with me each time. In fact, ‘tis how we met. The first time we saw one another, I was helping to deliver a foal. Michael jumped right in without any previous experience.” She smiled. “He has been by my side ever since.”
They came to a large stall with a golden mare whose belly was so large that she looked ready to give birth at any moment. Beside her stood a tall man with dark hair, stroking the horse gently.
“That’s a good girl,” he crooned and then looked up. “Hello, Mother.”
“Lord Tristan Therolde, I’d like you to meet my oldest child, David. He has recently been knighted and returned to live at Sandbourne.”
“’Tis a pleasure to meet you, my lord. Mother says you’ve come to look at our horses.”
“Aye, Sir David. And learn. I fear my knowledge regarding horses is limited.”
The young knight laughed. “Mother has forgotten more than most people will ever know about horses. She will be an excellent tutor for you.”
“David has been assisting me with the births since his return.”
“And I plan on helping her to train the new foals, as well. I love horses as much as Mother does and that’s saying quite a bit.”
Tristan found himself drawn to the man’s genial manner and smile. A handsome knight from a good family would be the perfect man for Gillian to partner with. Though Lady Elysande seemed a bit unconventional, Tristan knew she would be a welcoming mother-in-law. He would broach the issue when the time came and hope that David Devereux was not already betrothed.
“Send word if any difficulties arise. I’m going to escort Lord Tristan to the enclosure.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, my lord. I will see you at the evening meal,” David told him. “That is, if this beautiful lady has given birth by that time.” He gave the mare a fond pat.
Tristan and Lady Elysande left the stables. As they drew near the training yard, a loud series of cheers broke out, drawing his curiosity. He wondered if Toby had been able to participate in the contest.
“We can always visit the meadow later,” she told him. “I hope you will remain at Sandbourne for a few weeks. Shall we see how the archery contest fares instead?”
“I would like that, my lady.”
Tristan led her to the butts. A ring of soldiers encircled the area. He saw Toby with a bow in hand, determination on his face as drew back the string and let the arrow sail. The arrow struck close to the center of the target and the men clapped at his effort. A second man joined him and Toby stepped aside. His arrow also hit the target but landed almost dead center. More shouts of encouragement exploded.
He figured it came down to these two men as to which one might win the competition. After each one shot twice more, the Sandbourne man threw his bow to the ground and hands in the air, happiness spreading across his face.
“It looks as if we have a new champion for this week. Well done, Hervey.”
Tristan assumed the man speaking was the Earl of Sandbourne. Well over six feet, he had broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes. Not much would get past this man, who looked to be two score and five.
“He’s not a true champion,” someone hollered from the crowd. “He ain’t beat the de Montfort!”
At once, the name de Montfort began to be chanted by all those present. Calls for the de Montfort continued as men stomped their feet and clapped their hands.
“Enough!” cried Lord Michael, trying to hide a smile and losing that particular battle. He glanced to the crowd at his right. “Would you like to participate?”
A slightly built man stepped forward and nodded, his head down as if embarrassed at all of the sudden attention. Wild applause erupted as he stepped to where the soldier named Hervey stood. Tristan read the doubt creeping into the man’s eyes. This de Montfort must be quite skilled to have the support of all those gathered and cause a skilled soldier who’d just won an archery contest to question himself.
Then the newcomer turned to pick up a bow. Tristan caught sight of a dark as night braid that whipped around.
A braid?
He studied the person more carefully and found it wasn’t a man at all. It was a woman—dressed as a man. She wore an oversized tunic of dark brown and baggy black pants. She reached down and slipped off her shoes, tossing them and a blade aside. More cheers broke out as Tristan caught sight of a shapely ankle for a moment. Then she wiggled her toes and seemed to grip the very ground under her with them.
The group grew silent as a young boy wheeled out a new target. Concentration filled the woman’s face as she studied it. Her slender body seemed as taut as the bowstring she pulled back. Without warning, her arrow flew through the air.
And hit dead center.
She gave a brief nod to the crowd acknowledging her effort and then stepped aside so her challenger could take his turn. They alternated until each had sent five arrows to the target, with the same boy hurrying out and moving the target further away after each shot. By the time the match ended, four of her arrows clustered together so tightly around the bullseye, Tristan didn’t see how there could be any space between them. The fifth had split one of those arrows straight down the middle. Hervey, while coming close, never stood a chance against his competitor.
Chants of de Montfort began again. Tristan watched as soldiers hoisted the woman up in the air and paraded her around the butts. He found himself breathing normally again after holding his breath each time she took a shot.
Then she passed by, high above him. She looked down and their eyes met. Hers were a startling blue, like two sapphires in her heart-shaped face. Tristan’s heart slammed against his ribs as he watched her carried off.
Turning to Lady Elysande, he asked, “Who was that?”
“My cousin. Nan de Montfort.”
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