Page 55 of Chivalry in the Meadow
Sir Cedric found her first. He appeared as if summoned. Ever the white knight, he was dressed in light blue, silver and white, his half-mask white. He extended his hand silently.
Mia took his hand, and he led her to the dancing circle.
They began to move to the music and the world blurred around her as they moved.
He was smooth, effortless, his hand always just where it needed to be. But there was heat in his touch that wasn’t entirely comforting.
“You wear mystery well,” he murmured, his fingers brushing her back, as he twirled her.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes catching a glimpse of the herald beyond his shoulder, all decked out in red and purple wearing a purple mask. The shimmer now over there, where he had stood, was a blur of red and purple wavering in the air.
“But there’s a shadow behind your eyes tonight,” he added as he’d been watching her eyes. “Something troubles you.”
“I’ve been seeing things,” Mia said cautiously, that shimmer distracting her from enjoying the dance with Sir Cedric.
What is that?
His lips brushed her ear. “Some truths are only revealed when you stop seeking logic.”
The music shifted, and then the song ended.
Sir Cedric bowed. “Another time,” he said. “We shall meet and dance again.” Then he disappeared into the crowd where the herald had been as the firelight flickered, leaving Mia to stand alone where he’d left her.
He’s a tease, and he flirts with all the ladies. I wonder where he’s gone off to.
Chapter Eight
Mia wandered to the far edge of the camp, and stood at the treeline, looking up at the moon while moonlight spread over her hair and shoulders. She’d needed a break from the noisy ball, and the riot of costumes and colors.
“Walking alone?” Sir Alaric’s voice came from the shadows, calm and low, but edged with concern.
Mia startled slightly but then smiled. “Just… thinking. The festival is… overwhelming at sometimes.”
He stepped closer, the torchlight catching the gold threads of his courtly garb. “It can be,” he admitted. “But danger likes the quiet corners. That’s where it hides.”
She glanced at him, feeling the pull of his presence, as strong as the pull to Sir Cedric had ever been. The pull to Sir Alaric was steady, protective, grounding. It did not make her feel she needed a break from him. “I suppose I’m lucky you’re here, then.”
Sir Alaric’s dark eyes softened, and for a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the space between them.
He extended a hand, not commanding, just offering. “Stay close. For your own sake. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
He paused. “If you desire a quiet walk away from the party, I will walk with you.”
Mia hesitated for a moment, looking into his eyes. Then, seeing only kindness and caring, she placed her hand lightly in his.
The touch was brief, tentative, yet electric, surprising them both. Her eyes widened and his deepened, yet neither spoke.
She was aware of her pulse and the warmth of his skin, the strength of his calloused fingers. The hand of a warrior who would protect.
They began to walk together, side by side, through the quiet trees. Shadows danced around them, but she felt a curious calm with him. If there were anger lurking here, safety followed in his steps.
A woman’s shriek, followed by much loud laugher spread to where they were walking, and she turned her head. “No wonder I found the party to be loud.”
“The more they drink, the louder it will get,” he said.
“Do you ever wish for a life without all this…” she gestured vaguely toward the jousts, the magic, the chaos. “…drama?”
Sir Alaric lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Sometimes. But then I remember why I’m here. And who I’m here for.” His gaze met hers, unwavering.
