My Victorious Knight

by O'Donnell, Laurel

  Edward pondered and added, “I have one more condition that may entice you…”

  Later that afternoon, Elora sat in a chair at Edward’s bedside, her head bowed. She was chilled and clutched her hands. There was no way to make amends with Julian. There was no way to tell Julian how sorry she was, how wrong she was.

  “Ellie, you are quiet today,” Edward observed.

  Elora looked up to see Edward gazing at her. Distant cheers from the field of honor floated in through the window. Julian would have been competing in the championship joust if he hadn’t forfeited. She glanced back down at her entwined fingers. “I’m just thinking.”

  “I don’t think you’ve ever been this quiet.”

  She nodded. A cheer rose in the distance, mocking her sad mood. “I suppose I am thinking about your injury.”

  “Are you?” he said with doubt.

  “You will not be able to ride a horse home. It will be a long journey. We could—”

  “Ellie,” Edward called, leaning forward to grab one of her hands and pull it free from the other. “This is a celebration. I don’t want you worrying about me.”

  “How can I not?”

  Edward straightened in the chair. “Then I shall give you something else to contemplate. I have decided on your husband.”

  Elora’s shoulders slumped, and she bowed her head again. She had given her word that by the end of the tournament, she would pick, or he would pick for her. “I trust your judgement.”

  Edward reared back, shocked. “That is not what you said about all the prospects I have picked so far.”

  “Since I failed to find a husband, you have every right to decide on one for me. I have given my word.”

  “Ellie,” Edward said. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Elora could not look at him. She eased her hand from his hold. Her entire world was gone. She felt broken and empty. She had gotten what she wished for. A passionate kiss. She hadn’t realized that to get what she wanted, she would have to sacrifice her very heart and soul.

  Yet, she didn’t want Edward to worry. He had enough to think about. “I’ll be fine. I’m worried about you.”

  “Is that it? Is there anything else?”

  “No,” she lied. “There is nothing else.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  As the sun peeked over the grassy hill the next morning, Julian sat atop Storm in his full chainmail coat, waiting for the melee to begin. He gripped a new shield with the heraldry of a black phoenix on a deep red background. Next to Julian sat Mace and the rest of Lord Yves’s team. Across the field, the opposing team stretched in a row of mounted, armor-clad knights holding lances.

  Julian had been surprised to discover Osmont was on Yves’s team as well, which meant they had to work together. But Lord Luther was on the opposing team. His gaze swept the long line of rival knights. His father was there somewhere.

  Beneath him, Storm side-stepped anxiously. Julian loosened his grip on the reins. He rubbed his gauntleted fingers together. He could hear his quickened breathing inside his metal helm. He focused on the knights across the field, pushing all other thoughts aside. One set of glistening blue eyes was the most difficult to erase from his mind.

  The trumpet blasted, echoing throughout the field. As one, the line of horses charged forward, and the melee began.

  Trumpets blared in the distance, signaling the start of the melee. Elora didn’t care. She just wanted to go home and be done with jousting and tournaments. She was in a chair near the bed while Edward eagerly sat at the window for a better view of the melee.

  All she had wanted was a kiss; she had never expected to fall in love. And now Julian was gone, leaving her with a heart that would not mend.

  “Come, Ellie,” Edward called. “Come and watch the melee.”

  She miserably glanced at Sarah, who stoked the fire in the hearth. Sarah sent her a sympathetic look before turning back to her work.

  “It’s grand!” Edward exclaimed. “Stretching out over the entire field. Lord, I wish I could participate.”

  Elora glanced at Edward to see him leaning toward the window from his seat. She was glad he had not lost his spirit. “I have no desire to see knights bash each other with swords and shields.”

  Edward scoffed playfully, “You love this! Come!”

  Elora sat for a long time, refusing his urging.

  “Come, Ellie!” Edward continued to beg.

  As morning stretched into the afternoon, Elora reluctantly decided to join him. She walked to his side with her arms crossed in defiance. “At least everyone I love shall be safe and not a part of this melee.”

  “Everyone?” he echoed. “What of Osmont and Mace?”

  “I certainly do not love them.”

  “What of Sir Julian?”

  She snapped her gaze to him. Edward lifted his eyebrows. Caught, she looked away guiltily. Her arms dropped to her side, and her shoulders sagged. “He has forfeited and left the tournament.”

  “It is true. He did forfeit. But he did not leave.” He peered back at the field. “And if you look closely, you will see him.”

  Elora’s heart jumped with disbelief. “He didn’t leave?” She glanced out the window at the battling knights. Their armor reflected in the sunlight. The distant clang of swords clashing rose in the air. “But I saw his camp. It was empty.”

  “He used my tent.”

  Elora’s breath caught in her throat as she placed her hands on the window ledge and leaned out to find him. “He’s here?”

  “He is fighting in my place,” Edward admitted. “I gave him the opportunity to increase his wealth.”

  Startled, Elora whirled to Edward. “You saw him? You spoke to him?” When had Julian been here?

  Edward nodded. “I did. I have never in all my life seen two more stubborn people. Why didn’t you come to me and tell me how you felt?”

  “I did,” Elora stressed. “You said I was infatuated.”

  Edward splayed his hands. “I was a fool.”

  She sighed softly. “It wouldn’t have mattered. You made it clear you required a man with title and lands to be my husband.”

  “Then, that was my mistake. What I really wanted was for you to be happy.”

  Elora stared at him in doubt. “But you said the man I married—”

  “I only wanted a man who would treat you well. A man who would adore you as you deserve. A man who would love you and keep you safe.”

  Elora looked out the window, recalling Julian’s smile. Her heart melted with anguish. “Julian has no wealth, no title, no lands. He can’t very well keep me safe.”

  Edward chuckled. “That’s what he said. But you were right. He is honorable, and he would do all in his power to keep you safe. He makes you happy, Ellie. Besides, I’ve seen the type of man he is, and I am impressed.”

  Her gaze swept hopefully to the field of clashing knights, searching for Julian. There were so many knights. So many men clustered together. It was an undulating line of mounted men hacking at each other, sword to shield. Clangs resounded through the air.

  “Where is he?” Elora asked anxiously.

  Edward leaned forward, scanning the fighting area. “He was beside Mace. He is wearing our colors.”

  Elora looked for him, focusing on each knight intently until she was certain that was not him and then moving on. Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat as her gaze alighted on one knight battling valiantly against another on the ground. She knew instinctively it was Julian. “There!” She pointed to him.

  Edward stared for a long moment. “Yes. I believe it is him.”

  She leaned forward as if that would help her see him more clearly. He was with three other knights. Two were on horseback and one on the ground. “Who is he fighting?”

  Edward gazed at the men for a moment, examining the fight. “Mace is with him. And I think the other on horseback is Osmont. But I can’t make out the colors of the knight he is fighting.”

  Elora st
ared closely at the scene playing out on the field. The knight that Julian faced slowly circled around him. Silently, she pleaded for Julian to be safe.

  Suddenly, the knight moving in a circle around Julian slammed a shoulder into him, sending him sprawling onto his back. The knight lifted his sword above his head.

  “No!” Elora cried, her fingers gripping the stone ledge tightly.

  The knight brought his sword down into Julian’s chest.

  Elora stumbled back away from the window. She whirled and swept up her traveling cloak, throwing it around her shoulders.

  “Where are you going?” Edward demanded.

  “They’ll take him to the physician's tents.” She glanced at Sarah, who was putting aside her mending and standing.

  “Elora!” Edward called.

  She didn’t stop. She continued toward the door. Her limbs trembled with fear. Numbness gripped her mind. She had seen the other knight try to run Julian through. She had seen the other knight stab him! She had seen…

  “Be careful,” Edward commanded. “Sarah, go with her.”

  Sarah nodded and followed Elora out of the room.

  “James!” Edward hollered to a knight positioned at the door. “Escort them!”

  Julian had ransomed two knights early and charged out into the fields again to find Mace. They worked well as a team, covering each other’s back. Before he could spot Mace, he noticed two knights on the opposing team battering Osmont’s shield with their swords.

  Julian spurred Storm forward to intercept one of them. He raised his shield, and the knight swung his sword down. The blow jarred through Julian’s arm.

  Evenly matched, the two cowardly knights broke off the attack and charged away.

  Julian exchanged a glance with Osmont, and then drove Storm to pursue them. Suddenly, Storm stumbled and fell to the ground, throwing Julian off. Julian put up his hands to stop his fall and tumbled away from Storm. He rolled onto his feet.

  When Storm nickered, Julian swung his gaze to him and saw he was on the ground. Confused, he glanced about for what had caused Storm to trip. He saw Osmont sitting on his warhorse; his lance pointed downward. Concerned for his horse, Julian jerked toward Storm.

  Osmont urged his steed between them, blocking Julian.

  “What are you doing?” Julian demanded. “We are on the same team!”

  “We are never on the same the team,” Osmont growled. He pointed his lance at Julian.

  Behind Osmont’s steed, Julian saw Storm push up to his feet and stand. Relief swept through him, followed quickly by hot fury. “You tripped him? You could have injured him!” He grabbed Osmont’s lance and pulled it hard, ripping it free from his hold. “I grow weary of your spite.” He tossed the lance aside. “We are on the same team; you cannot ransom me.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  He saw a familiar black steed charging across the trodden meadow toward him. Tingles of trepidation danced along his shoulders as he recognized the rider. His lips thinned, and he quickly looked around for his shield. He snatched it from the trampled grass, holding it before him, bracing himself.

  The rider stopped before him, holding the tip of the lance at Julian’s shield. “Thank you for your help, Osmont.” Then he addressed Julian, “Yield.”

  “You taught me never to do that,” Julian growled, keeping his shield between him and the rider. “You called me weak for doing that. Didn’t you, Father?”

  A dark rumble of laughter issued from his throat. “You are out-manned here.”

  “I’m not the inexperienced young boy you remember,” he snarled and grabbed the lance, shoving it backward until his father lost his balance and his steed reared. His father tumbled head over heels from his horse.

  A hard push from behind sent Julian propelling forward onto his hands and knees. Osmont! He rolled out of the way just as a sword slashed down where he had been.

  “Osmont! What are you doing?” a voice called.

  Julian recognized Mace’s voice and saw him galloping toward them atop his horse. But Julian didn’t have time to feel relief. He rose and whirled to find his father approaching with his sword lifted high.

  Julian held up his shield, blocking Lord Luther’s blows. His father’s strikes slammed into the wooden shield, again and again, the impetus driving Julian backward. He braced himself, planting his feet solidly in the grass.

  After one attack, Julian rushed forward, pushing the shield against Luther. When his father stumbled back, Julian readjusted his grip on the shield, urgently scanning the ground for his sword.

  He glimpsed Storm yards away, standing with his father’s horse. The light cadence of hoofbeats sounded behind him, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder, side-stepping so as not to take his view from Lord Luther.

  Mace moved his warhorse into Osmont’s path, blocking him from interfering.

  Julian focused on his father and his familiar great helm with the slitted eye slots and the holes near his mouth. Julian grimaced.

  “What’s wrong, boy?” he growled, holding his sword before him with two hands. “No desire to follow through? That has always been your fault.” He circled him. “I do what I must to win. Anything and everything. I even smashed your lances to give Osmont the advantage.”

  “You did that?” Julian gasped. Rage hurtled through him, but he suppressed it. Lord Luther was clever, and he was a seasoned warrior. It was time for Julian to prove his worth.

  “Even then, you sought to defy me,” his father growled. “You still won.”

  Through the slates in Luther’s helmet, Julian could see the hate burning in his father’s eyes. He recalled being a boy and seeing the same look. He’d tried to please his father, tried to get him to be proud of him, but he never could. He lowered the shield slightly as the realization came over him. His father would never love him. He would never see him as anything but worthless. “What did I ever do to make you hate me this much?”

  His father surged forward with a loud cry. He knocked his shoulder into Julian, sending him to his back. He batted the shield aside and lifted his sword high, driving it down hard, straight toward Julian’s heart.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Elora frantically scoured the physician’s tents. When she couldn’t find Julian, she raced to the Refuge, a space for knights to rest and resolve their ransom issues. Now, she paced the roped-off area, staring into the field, watching knights strike at each other with swords and lances. She saw one knight race past her with the colors of Scotland. Another wore the heraldry of the Dumont family. Many were too far away to make out who they were. Occasionally, a battle would come so close to the Refuge that she could hear the grunts of the knights as they swung their two-handed swords.

  She exchanged glances with one knight who stood inside the roped-off area. She didn’t recognize him, but he looked tired and battered. His dark hair was plastered to his head with sweat. He held his helmet in his hand.

  Her gaze swung to two other knights talking inside the Refuge, possibly discussing the arrangement for one of their ransom.

  Sarah walked to her side. “I’m sure Julian is unharmed,” she whispered.

  There was no way Sarah could know this as fact, so Elora realized she was just trying to comfort her. It didn’t alleviate her fear. James, their escort knight, stood steps behind them.

  A knight rode his horse into the area, dismounting quickly. He called to his squire as he grasped his left hand with his right, holding it tightly. A dark-haired squire raced to his aid. The knight held up his appendage, and the squire removed his gauntlet. One finger had been completely cut off.

  Elora gasped and placed her fingers to her mouth.

  The squire led the knight and his horse toward the physician tents, out of the Refuge.

  Terrified that Julian lay hurt in the field somewhere, Elora began to shake. She whirled to look out over the landscape again. Where was he? Anxiety twisted her stomach into knots. She desperately scanned the area of the field where she
’d watched a knight stab him in his chest but saw no sign of him. He wasn’t in the physician’s tent. Where was he?

  “What are you doing here?”

  She spun at hearing the voice. As if her worry had conjured him, Julian stood before her, gazing at her with a slight frown of concern. She blinked for a moment, fearful she saw things. Fearful he wasn’t really there. Her heart missed a beat, and she put a hand to her chest. She could not even utter his name.

  “Ellie?” he asked in apprehension, stepping closer to her.

  In a rush of relief, she launched herself into his arms. “Julian,” she gasped, wrapping her hands around him. Holding him. Squeezing him. Touching him. He was there! He was alive. She pulled back suddenly, scanning his chest for a wound, running her hand across his chainmail. Her fingers hooked on a group of broken chainmail links in the center of his chest. She lifted her questioning gaze to his. “How did you—I saw a knight stab you. I thought—”

  “You came here because you thought I was injured?”

  “Yes!” she exhaled a shaky sob.

  Julian tugged his gauntlet from his hand and ran his fingers along her cheek. “Then, you do care.”

  “Oh, Julian!” She lifted up on her toes and pressed her lips to his again and again. “I’m sorry. I hurt you. I was wrong. I should never have said those things. You are not a cheat. You are not dishonorable. You are wonderful and chivalrous and…” Her gaze swept his face. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “Forgive you?” Julian echoed in surprise. “There is nothing to forgive. I never held it against you. I couldn’t.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him.

  His body was hard and strong and warm. Elora couldn’t stop touching him. She ran her hands over his shoulders to the nape of his neck. His hair brushed her fingers, and she trailed her fingers through it. She lifted up on her toes, unable to resist his lips. She parted hers, kissing him deeply. Warmth saturated her body, igniting a flood of desire and love.

  When they separated, Julian was grinning, his head tilted, his eyebrows raised. “Highly inappropriate for a lady.”