Instead, he’d hurled words at him. “You’ll never amount to anything. You’ll never be a knight. You are weak, and you have no skills. You are worthless.” His father had turned, sheathed his sword, and marched off into the setting sun.
Julian had left his sword and dashed in the opposite direction, tears streaming from his eyes. He could never please his father. He could never be what his father wanted. He would never have his father’s love. He had run into Baldwin’s camp, falling flat on his stomach. He had never returned to his father.
When Baldwin didn’t reenter the tent, Julian ducked outside. He looked this way and that, but Baldwin was gone. Shocked and hurt, Julian stood. Baldwin had left him. His mentor and friend had abandoned him. Just like his father. Old feelings of betrayal rose within him. His teeth tightened. If Baldwin didn’t believe he could win, if he didn’t want to stand by his side, then Julian didn’t need him. He clenched his fists, and his muscles quivered.
“I can do it!” he shouted. “I don’t need you!”
Something inside him twisted and hurt, but he gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. His throat constricted, and he fought against the feelings he had buried long ago. Feelings of resentment and anger toward his father surged to the forefront. He would do it! He’d show Baldwin. Just like he’d show his father. He didn’t need them! He didn’t need either of them!
He stormed inside the tent and stopped short as his eyes settled on the empty spot where Baldwin’s sleeping mat used to be. Nausea churned his stomach, but he pushed the remorse aside. He gripped the pommel of his sheathed sword tightly.
He heard laughter from the campgrounds in the distance, and in his mind, they were laughing at him, mocking him. No one thought he could do it.
Suddenly, he was a boy again, alone. Uncertain. He trembled with rage and doubt. He wasn’t a child. He was a man. He straightened; his lips tight. He was a man capable of winning. He knew he had the skill to win this tournament and make something of himself. He had already defeated Osmont and a handful of other knights to advance in the tournament. Yet still, his mentor, his friend, didn’t have faith in him. What did he have to do to prove himself?
He paced as restless, angry energy burned inside of him. He shoved the tent flap aside and emerged into the bright sunshine.
Storm whinnied and nudged his shoulder. He rubbed a hand along Storm’s snout.
He couldn’t believe Baldwin was gone. He dropped his gaze to the ground and saw the pile of lances he had accumulated during the day. Gilbert had brought lances from lords who wished to sponsor him and knights who admired him or were eliminated during the tournament. All were wishing to gain favor with him.
Favor. He reached into his tunic and pulled out Elora’s favor. The material sparkled softly in the bright sunlight.
Ellie believed in him. She had to. Because if she didn’t, he had no one.
Resolve filled him. He set his jaw and looked toward the field of honor. His muscles tightened in determination. He would show them all. He would win the tourney. Then he would go to Edward to seek Elora’s hand. He would marry Ellie.
Chapter Twenty One
Elora thanked Gilbert for escorting her and Sarah back to the citadel. Then the two women hurried in silence through the hallways toward her chambers. She hoped Baldwin was well. She had asked Gilbert, and he’d told her Baldwin was unhurt, but Gilbert appeared distracted and uncommunicative.
She had plenty of time to think. Hope had been alive within her when she discovered Julian had lands and a title. She thought that was the answer, and Julian would gladly agree to return to his heritage so they could be together. When he had flatly refused, she was stunned and devastated. She knew he and his father had a falling out, but the solution seemed so rational. So logical. Now the future was bleak. Her heart was heavy, and she was tired. So very tired. She didn’t know what the answer was. She didn’t know how they could possibly be together now.
Sarah opened the door to her chambers and stepped aside to allow her entrance.
The heavy curtains were closed, and the fire in the hearth cast a red glow over the dark room. Movement near the window caught her attention, and she gasped.
Edward stepped into the firelight. “Where have you been?”
Chills peppered her arms, and she searched desperately for an answer.
He strolled toward her, inspecting her riding cloak with a curled lip of distaste. “What are you wearing?”
Her mind worked, but she could not come up with an answer. Her chest spasmed. Her mouth opened and then closed with a sigh. She just couldn’t lie to him any longer. “I went to see Julian.”
A thick, tense silence settled over the room.
Elora didn’t break the unreadable gaze he bestowed on her.
“Alone?” Edward demanded, his voice tight with anger. “Unescorted?”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to get Sarah into trouble. She cast a glance at her friend in the darkness across the room near the bed. “No,” she finally admitted. “His squire was with me.”
“Elora!” Edward roared. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if robbers had descended on you? Who would have protected you? Who would have kept you safe?” He took two steps and then whirled on her again, his face a mask of horror. “Did he compromise you?”
Outrage pierced Elora, and she lifted her chin. “Julian is honorable. He would do nothing to hurt me.”
Edward came toward her, his fists clenched, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing. “You put our family name in jeopardy. There could have been a scandal!”
Hot anger flared through her veins like lava. Heat pulsed through her body. “Is that all you are concerned about, the family name? What about my happiness?”
Edward reared back. “I have been patient with you, Elora. I gave you the option to pick a husband so you could be happy!”
“Yes, but you required a husband with lands and titles. Julian would make the perfect husband. He is—”
“If he would make the perfect husband, why did he not come to me to seek your hand? Are you certain he intends to wed you?”
Her stomach flipped in doubt. Was that the reason he would not return to his family estate and claim his title? Did he have no intention of wedding her? She quickly shook her head, pushing the thought away. She would not believe it of Julian. He had said he intended to claim her! But as a wife? “He would if he could. But you wanted someone with a title.”
“Elora.” Edward took a deep, calming breath. “There are many unethical men. There are many dishonorable men. They would do anything for lands and titles. Even compromise an innocent girl.”
“You don’t know Julian! He is not like that. Lands and titles are not important to him.”
“Perchance wealth is.”
Elora scowled fiercely. “He is honorable and kind and…” She spun away from Edward. “You don’t know him. He’s not like that.”
“I know he is my opponent. Perchance he would do whatever it took to win the tournament. Even seduce his opponent’s sister.”
Edward’s words were logical. Rational, even. But no. Not Julian. “Julian is not like that. You never took the time to know him. Ask Mace.”
Two shadows broke away from the wall near the window and moved into the light. Mace walked beside a grinning Osmont.
Elora gasped at seeing Mace. Had he told Edward everything? Her eyes burned with betrayal. She glanced at Osmont with contempt. “You asked Osmont? I wouldn’t believe a word that comes from his lips.”
“He told me he saw you and Julian in the stairway and that Julian pushed you into the wall.”
Elora’s mouth dropped open at the lie.
“He said he would have told me sooner, but he’d promised you he wouldn’t tell,” Edward explained.
“He’s a liar!” Elora snapped. “Osmont was the one who hurt me. Julian and he got into a fight, and I tried to stop it—”
“I told you not to see him,” Edward cut her off in a warnin
g.
Elora stood trembling with emotion, silent for a long moment. Her hands tightened into fists. Finally, she shook her head in disbelief. “How can you believe him over me? Why won’t you listen to me?”
“Because you didn’t tell me. You snuck out, apparently numerous times, to see Julian, unguarded and unprotected.”
Osmont clucked his tongue. “What type of knight allows a woman to be in such danger?”
Elora shot a hateful glare at Osmont.
Edward continued, “You risked our family name. And you lied to me.”
She stood for a moment, trembling with rage and uncertainty. She took a shaky breath and frantically tried to calm herself. She opened her hot fists. “I’m sorry, Edward. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.” She stepped forward, desperately. “But you would never have let me see him…” Her chin quivered. “…And I love him.”
Edward frowned fiercely and straightened imperiously. His gaze raked over her in disapproval. “It is just a girl’s infatuation. It is not love.”
He would never listen to her. She was just a girl to him, incapable of deciding anything for herself, even who she loved.
“You will not see him anymore. I will put guards at your door. You will not leave this room unless I escort you.”
She was a prisoner now. Tears rushed into her eyes. She lifted her chin. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You judge everyone! And no one can meet your standards.” She whirled desperately to his friend. “Mace, tell him! Tell him about Julian’s character!”
Mace glanced at Edward and then her. He splayed his hands. “I… I don’t know him well enough. I cannot vouch for him.”
“Remember your place, Elora,” Edward warned and headed for the door.
Osmont grinned slyly as he followed him, stroking his dark mustache.
Mace paused before her with a gentle sigh. “I’m sorry.” He moved after Osmont.
Elora’s breathing came in shallow gasps. Never to see Julian again. She had brought this on herself. She should have told Edward from the beginning. But she couldn’t. He would have stopped her from seeing Julian then, just as he was doing now.
“Edward,” she pleaded in an unsteady voice.
He did not stop. He opened the door and let the two men out, then signaled for Sarah to leave. Sarah cast a quick, concerned glance at Elora before departing.
Elora swallowed past a lump in her throat. Her entire being shook. Her world crumbled around her. She inhaled a ragged breath. “You don’t know him,” she whispered, and her voice echoed through the room.
“I know his kind,” Edward replied and shut the door, sealing her in the fire-lit darkness.
Chapter Twenty Two
Julian lay awake in his tent on his back, his hands tucked beneath his head, staring at the roof. Soft snorts came from Gilbert, where he slept across from Julian.
The canvas at the top lit up in a flash, followed by a distant boom of thunder. A storm was coming.
Storm whinnied softly. Julian had moved him into the tent so he wouldn’t be out in the rain.
Julian’s destiny lay before him. The joust with Sir Edward was on the morrow. But that was not what was keeping him awake. He shifted his stare to the empty spot where Baldwin had slept. A flash of lightning filled the tent, and Julian could almost see his mentor’s sleeping form stretched there. Except Baldwin was gone.
Julian sighed softly and looked back at the roof. Give Elora up. Julian still couldn’t believe Baldwin had asked that of him. Why did he have to choose between winning the joust and Elora? Why couldn’t he be the champion and have Elora? He shook his head slightly, bitterness in his mouth.
Elora. The image of golden hair and beautiful blue eyes filled his mind. A clap of thunder jarred him. At least she believed him to be worthy, even if Baldwin didn’t. He ground his teeth. He should get some sleep. His joust with Sir Edward was in the morning.
He had been waiting for this moment for his entire life. To face an undefeated champion. To become an undefeated champion. Nothing else should matter.
Elora stared out the open window toward the campgrounds. A fork of lightning flared through the sky, illuminating the colorful pavilions dotting the field. Her heart cried out for Julian.
A gust of wind swirled in, lifting the ends of her hair, and flinging them from her face. Her eyes burned with the thought of never seeing Julian again. Her heart broke. She had known it would come to this, but somewhere deep inside of her, she had hoped Julian would find a way to win her hand. She had hoped, and wanted to believe, he would win the tournament, proving himself worthy to Edward.
Now all hope was dashed.
A wall of rain started at the forest and swept across the landscape, consuming the tents and then the citadel in its deluge.
The next morning, Julian circled Storm as he waited for his turn to enter the field of honor. Thick mud sucked at the horse’s hooves. The rain had transformed the dirt from the previous day to sludge. The joust would be dangerous and unpredictable. Yet, it was finally here. It had all come to this, his joust with Sir Edward. He lifted his gaze to the stands but quickly remembered not to look for her. There could be no distractions from this joust.
He glanced at Gilbert, who rounded his shoulders against the consistent rain. He looked miserable. His brown hair hung around his face in strands, his clothing soaked.
Julian had not donned his helmet, and the torrent saturated his head. Rivulets of water ran down his back under his gambeson.
He peered at the field. Puddles dotted the mud of the lists. Flags drooped in the unending stream from the skies. However, even the constant rain could not keep the villagers away. The spectators huddled in small dry spots near the stands.
Calm filled Julian. Remarkable calm. He had prepared for this moment his entire life. He was ready. Even his shoulder didn’t ache. He knew what he had to do. There would be no mistakes.
Edward took the field first amidst a chorus of drowned cheers. His large destrier trudged through the mud and kicked off muck from its hooves as it cantered. Edward’s squire ran before him, holding a long pole with a flag of the Kingston heraldry, a deep red background with a black phoenix. It sagged in the deluge of rain. The squire’s foot slipped, and he fell to his knee but fought to keep the flag upright.
Edward said something to him, and the squire righted himself to walk to the end of the field.
Julian glanced at Gilbert, who grimaced and shrugged.
Julian looked back at the arena. His destiny. He took a deep breath and urged Storm forward. As he entered the field of honor, another round of muted cheers rose from the huddled spectators. He lifted his fisted hand as if in victory and rode down the field. He passed the stands and looked right at Elora. She was pressed up against the side of the wooden wall to keep dry. Their eyes locked for a moment before he moved toward his side of the field.
Elora’s stomach churned, tensing. A consuming sadness swept through her; her chest was heavy as if a ton of boulders weighed it down. She would never be with Julian again. Even though Julian was not as brightly colored as Edward, nor as eloquent and conserved, he was more dashing and magnificent than Edward ever could be. His dark hair flapped with every step of his horse like a wet flag. She clenched her hands, taking a deep breath. She fought to keep the tears from her eyes.
A bolt of lightning lit the sky, followed by a large boom.
Elora jumped.
Julian’s horse reared slightly.
It was a bad sign for Julian. Edward’s destrier had not moved. His steed was as calm as he was.
The rain pelted the wooden side of the stands, sounding like the soft but maddening beat of her heart. She gripped her damp, slick hands tightly. She was so angry and disappointed in Edward that every part of her being hoped Julian won.
As she stared at the field of honor, shivers of apprehension snaked through her. Jousting was dangerous, but the mud and rain made it even more so.
Elora glanced at Mace as he stood be
side her, the downpour not seeming to affect him. He was drenched from his sodden hair to his boots. He looked at her and tried to grin in reassurance, but there was trepidation in his look. “Edward will win. Do not worry.”
She lifted her chin. “Do not be so certain,” she murmured. When Julian won this joust, Edward would be forced to admit his skill was unmatched. Edward would… still not allow her to see Julian. Her shoulders sagged. If Edward lost, he would be furious. He would no longer be an undefeated champion. He would stand even more firmly against her seeing Julian. She couldn’t win with either outcome.
“Why doesn’t Lord Yves call off the jousts for the day?” she demanded.
“The knights would not hear of it. A little rain never stopped them,” Mace explained.
This did not alleviate Elora’s unease. The rain pounded the wooden rooftop, and someone grunted behind her. She turned to see an elderly lord in a wet blue bliaut pushed against the rear of the stands in a dry space, staring at her brother. His brow was furrowed in worry, yet there was morbid anticipation in his eyes. Disgusted, she looked at the field again.
Julian pulled his helmet over his head. Then he reached out to Gilbert for his lance.
Edward followed suit and spurred his horse forward, charging down the field.
The deluge fell from the skies. Small splatters landed on the knight’s helmets, making them appear to sparkle.
The lances came down in unison, pointing at each other. The riders leaned forward, hurtling toward one another.
Elora slowly inhaled as they neared.
And then the clash! The lances struck and splintered as lightning forked in the sky.
They passed each other, leaving a cloud of flying wooden fragments. When Julian’s horse came closer to the stands, Julian wobbled, gripping the reins tightly to keep from falling off. He lifted his left arm and shook it slightly. His injured shoulder!
Elora straightened with a scowl. It must have been an accident. Edward would not have aimed for his injury on purpose.
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