Page 20 of Promise of a Knight
Chapter Eight
In the wake of the fire, the court was in an uproar, but for another reason entirely—Margaret Tudor was about to enter the town of Edinburgh with the king where the true festivities would begin. A tournament, a feast, and the formal wedding. In just a few hours’ time, the princess would become the Queen Consort.
Alex was on edge the entire two days it had taken them to vacate Dalkeith and make their way to Edinburgh. Alaric had been busy keeping the castle secure along with the king’s men in light of the fire. No other incidents occurred, and no one had been caught yet, though there were many that were interviewed.
The king promised his young bride more horses, jewels and fabrics, which she was very receptive to. So when they finally began their procession to Edinburgh, the mood of the crowd had lightened and a sense of joviality had returned.
Alex prayed every morning, noon and night, repenting for her part in wishing ill on Princess Margaret. Not once more did she attempt to listen in or steal the necklace. Even still, she waited for the guards to come knocking. Each morning that she woke in her borrowed bed, she thanked her stars that no one had come for her. Alaric must not have told anyone of her confessions, at least not yet, and she prayed it remained that way. She owed him a great debt for keeping her secrets.
Princess Margaret kept Alex close, the ladies were all kind to her and even the king had complimented her on how well she was fitting in. How kind she was, and how well-mannered. Her family would have laughed at that. But Alex had learned a lot since coming here.
Despite all the praise she’d gotten (minus the endless disapproval of Lady Home), there was really only one person she wanted approval from: Alaric.
People lined the road throwing flowers and singing praises. All dressed in their Sunday best. Little girls, and even some of the women, had woven flowers in their hair. Men bowed and women curtsied. Children giggled and waved. Dogs barked and chased after the procession.
“Have ye ever seen anything like this?” Alex murmured to no one in particular.
Lady Home, who happened to be riding beside Alex, snorted. “Lass, keep up those types of mutterings and all will know just how much ye don’t belong.”
The woman never ceased her hurtful prods, but Alex learned to ignore them. No way was she going to let some self-important, stuffy noble make her feel less than she was. She’d had enough of that her entire life.
The cheers grew louder the closer they came to the castle. And finally, the structure came into view, their procession had reached Edinburgh. High up on a hill, the castle’s keep jutted toward the sky from behind a high, thick wall. The flags of Scotland and the king’s crest flew from the battlements, and trumpeters played. Their procession seemed to gain speed with their destination in sight. Up the royal mile they went, past shops, houses, taverns. Beneath the palace gates and into the courtyard.
Alex had never seen anything like it. It was so exciting to see the people welcoming their king and his new bride.
Now that they’d arrived, time flew by in a frenzy. Unloading, freshening up and helping the princess change clothes would begin to test everyone’s sanity. They had to hurry as a tournament had been set up and the king had agreed to do a run of jousting.
Alex had also heard a rumor that Alaric was going to participate.
A tent filled with carved wooden chairs, woven tapestries lining the floor and tables laden with various snacks and jugs of wine had been erected for the ladies.
“Sit beside me,” Princess Margaret said.
Alex nodded, ignoring the puff of annoyance from Lady Home who had been continually rejected with Alex being the preference. Lady Surrey took up the space on the other side of Princess Margaret, pushing Lady Home to the rear.
Margaret clapped. “Here comes the first knight!”
Covered in armor and riding a black charger, Alaric led his mount onto the field. His faceplate was down, but still she knew each and every angle of his face. Shoulders broad, thick, muscular legs clutching the horse’s sides, strong arm holding a jousting lance. Alex couldn’t help but sigh. He was so solid, so enchanting. Emotion swelled her chest.
Blast it all, but she loved him so. And she’d most likely never get to tell him.
As was custom, Alaric led his horse toward Princess Margaret’s tent. He stopped before the princess, but Alex could feel his eyes onher. Glancing down at her folded hands in her lap, her face heated.
“Your Grace,” he spoke to Margaret, lifting his faceplate. “You have my loyalty, my service, for as long as I shall live.”
“Which will be a very long time,” the princess assured.
“A knight can only hope to live with honor and die the same way.” Alaric smiled, that flash of calm, confidence, underneath a hint of mirth.
“Play on then, Sir Alaric,” Princess Margaret said.
“If I may…” He glanced at Alex and she thought she might shoot out of her chair and race away.
“Yes?” Princess Margaret asked, excitement in her voice.
“If I may beg a favor from Lady Alexandra?”
“Oh, yes, of course!” Margaret said, giddy with delight.
