Endearing (Knight Everlasting Book 1)

by Cassidy Cayman

  “Gunther, thank you, but I think I can manage now,” she said, wanting to venture outside the walls on her own two feet. He only let her down when Anne nodded it was all right and he kept a firm grip on her arm. With only a slight scowl, she accepted the help, not wanting to be too tired to enjoy the festivities on such a lovely day.

  When they first stepped out, she half-expected to see the muddy, makeshift parking lot and the tarmac road in the near distance. Instead, it was the smooth, packed-dirt lane that led down the hill through a vast open expanse, with the river running to the west and nothing but fallow farmland in the other direction. Around the back of the castle was a long, flat expanse leading all the way out to the river, then extending into the forest that reached as far as Fay could see.

  There weren’t half the trees in her time that there were now and it fairly took her breath away. Seeing all of them crowded together like dark sentinels guarding their secret lair made her understand why it would be so easy for people of this time to believe in faeries and unicorns and other magical creatures. The entirety of the place had such an otherworldly aura about it, with the castle looming opposite, she felt foolish for not believing in them. After she got her fill of the woods, she turned and looked back at the castle, gasping at its glory.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Anne asked.

  “Yes, fine,” she said, waving her and Gunther away.

  She took a few more steps back to really take it in. This was the first time she was seeing it from the outside in all its entirety. It was far too large a place to see it all within the walls and, even then, she’d found it impressive. It took her breath away, but she kept quiet about it so Anne wouldn’t have a conniption and send her home.

  She was a bit disoriented, but figured out which of the two towers she and Anne shared. The other was at least two stories higher and she’d never been up in it. Catherine had assured her it wasn’t for holding prisoners. “That’s what the dungeon’s for,” she’d said, shaking her head at Fay’s continued ignorance of her own home. Since then, she’d searched around as best she could without some helpful servant redirecting her, but she hadn’t yet found the elusive dungeon.

  She turned slightly to take in the crenellated walkway that ran at midlevel of the castle, between the two towers, several feet above the level of the outer wall. The wall itself looked so much more foreboding from this side, rising impossibly high on its already elevated spot atop the hill. The chalky grays and beiges of the stones almost sparkled in the hard, early sunlight. The place was absolutely gorgeous, even more beautiful than Uncle Randolph’s paintings of what historians surmised it must have looked like before it became mostly a pile of rubble.

  That hit her straight in the heart, thinking of what it was to become. Fay wondered fearfully when its destruction had taken place or if it was only the slow erosion of time. She was shocked that she now thought of the place as her home and felt real sadness thinking about its future demise. She still grew bitter sometimes about her circumstances, but it wasn’t the fault of the castle. It was under the same curse she was.

  It won’t happen for ages yet, she reminded herself. And you get to live here now, that’s something to be grateful for.

  That was another shocking realization. She did feel grateful to get to live in this magnificent place, to, however strangely, get to be a part of its history. She wondered if Uncle Randolph would ever read about her in a book, but never know it was her who was mentioned.

  She didn’t want to venture down that sad road on such a perfect day. It was spring at last, and she was about to witness some actual jousting. With her initial awe somewhat abated, she noticed some of the boys were already out on the flat area, scuffling amongst themselves. She saw Sir Knobby trying to keep them in order, but no sign of Tristan anywhere.

  The servants had their tent set up in no time flat and she sat down in one of the chairs with Anne on one side and Batty directly behind her, leaning forward eagerly. Marjorie sat beside Batty but had brought her stitching with her, steadfastly refusing to enjoy the spectacle, having already voiced her poor opinion of knights and their barbaric violence. They’d ignored her as usual.

  “Good morning, Lady Fay, it’s such a pleasure and relief to see you well again.”

  Lord Drayton took the chair beside her and smiled, his eyes flitting over her as if to assess the damage. She pushed that uncharitable thought from her mind, determined not to be poisoned by Batty’s clear preference of Tristan for her. She didn’t have the luxury of dismissing any suitor if she stood a chance to break the curse. And now that he was in front of her again, she remembered just how appealing Lord Drayton was.

  “I’m glad you could extend your visit,” she said, nodding graciously. She heard Batty snort behind her.

  He nodded seriously. “As am I. It seems the same marauders who attacked the land to the north of you were seen in the vicinity of my property. I found it hard to believe that they’d venture so far, but another holding confirmed it.”

  “My goodness,” she said, turning slightly to give Batty a look. “If there’s danger to your property, then why did you stay?”

  “They were soundly routed by Sir Christophe’s men and sent on their way north again, so the men I have with me now weren’t needed at home after all.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that,” she said, but worried that they might try to take Dernier Keep, sending Tristan away again. “Who are they? Do you know?” She’d still been hazy from her illness when Tristan had spoken to her about it, but she thought she remembered him having a bad feeling about them.

  He shook his head. “Savages from the north, men without clans most certainly, hoping to gain through taking what isn’t theirs.”

  “The way of all knights,” Marjorie muttered.

  Anne turned and gave her a quick reproof, then apologized to Lord Drayton, making Fay wonder how he’d come across the ownership of his own lands. She would have given anything to have paid more, or really any, attention during her history classes.

  “No, your maid has mostly the right of it,” Lord Drayton said magnanimously.

  Fay was not only impressed by his kindness, but his forward thinking way of not immediately dismissing the opinion of a woman who was also a servant. A double whammy to most, but Fay knew Marjorie wasn’t a fool, so she was pleased to see that Lord Drayton treated the maid with respect.

  “This fine kingdom, as we know it, was built by a man who took what he wanted with force,” he said. “We who now have the keeping of its lands have to do the same. It is important to recall that we have the grace of our good King behind us, though.” He gave a world weary sigh. “I must admit that I long for the day that it isn’t so, and we can be more at peace and less at arms.”

  Fay tried not laugh. That day wasn’t coming for a good long while, if ever. She liked his speech though and snuck a glance at Marjorie, who looked like she wanted to sign up for Lord Drayton’s fan club. Finding a man who had peaceful aspirations and treated women as equals should have been an impossibility, but here was one. Fay looked at him more seriously when she turned back to him. And he was really very handsome to boot.

  A trumpet sounded and they all craned their necks in that direction. “Here come the savages,” Marjorie said, returning to her needlework.

  “It’s almost like a real tournament,” Batty squeaked, bouncing forward in her chair. She gasped. “Oh, I almost forgot. I was speaking to Sir Knobby after supper last night and he said a tourney should be coming to Bimford Village this summer. Isn’t that wonderful? The last one was so long ago I barely remember it.”

  Fay wasn’t an expert in the area, since her uncle had only lived there a year. When she’d visited, she’d been preoccupied with helping Aunt Terrie. Still, she didn’t know of any Bimford Village in her own time. It had probably been absorbed into one of the larger towns or died out altogether.

  “That’s right,” Anne said, looking excited by the prospect as well. “It has bee
n ages. How old was I, fifteen? And Bimford is a safe distance so I’m certain Father will let us go.”

  Fay felt a bit of a jolt at that, knowing there’d been a reference to a tournament in her instruction book. It had mostly been crossed out, but she made a mental note to look it up again and confirm. It didn’t make her feel confident that the curse had been in place for so long that a reference to an event in her book was a distant memory to everyone. She was twenty-three for goodness’ sake, practically ancient in terms of being marriageable. Had the others given up because they’d been declared official spinsters? On the shelf and off the market, so they had no choice but to give up and let some new blood give it a go?

  Thankfully, the trumpet heralded the knights and squires riding toward the jousting area in full armor, their horses decked out in colorful finery. She gave up worrying about the curse for the moment.

  The pages lined up at attention as Sir Tristan, Brom, Sir Knobby, her father, and more of the squires trotted past their little pavilion, their helmets under their arms so they could greet their audience.

  “Father looks so handsome,” Anne said proudly.

  He did, indeed, but Fay found she only had eyes for Tristan. Everyone did a turn around the field after parading past, then stopped in a neat line, dismounting as one. It almost brought a tear to her eye as he found her and caught her eye. A quick, almost imperceptible smile twitched the corners of his lips and her heart fluttered, knowing it was for her. The sun glinted off his hair as the soft waves rustled in the mild breeze and she wanted to brush it off his face, run her fingers through it. It took all her willpower not to lean forward in her chair like Batty was doing as she found Brom in the lineup.

  “I can’t wait,” Batty breathed. Fay silently agreed, trying to maintain her dignity, though inside she was waving and shouting and jumping up and down.

  The first group to go was comprised of Sir Walter’s younger squires, lads of fourteen or so who tried with all their might to appear manly. They didn’t have fitted armor, having never yet gone to battle, but were decked out with chest plates and helmets. Their horses pawed at the dirt as their helpers adjusted their hold on the blunt-tipped wooden lances. She saw Sir Tristan giving some last minute instruction to one of the boys, then nodding encouragingly as he backed away.

  A page stood in the middle of the field with a flag, making Fay think of car racing. He waved the flag and tore out of the way as the two horses thundered toward each other. Fay couldn’t help it. She leaned forward, noting that Anne did the same.

  “Awwwww,” everyone under their tent groaned at the same time when neither kid succeeded in hitting the other.

  She’d never felt such disappointment that someone hadn’t been knocked from a horse. Those were children out there and she wanted one of them to be knocked out of his saddle by a pointy, wooden stick. With a small sigh, she accepted this new bloodlust and waited impatiently while they set up again.

  “They seem to have a good grip, but their aim was slightly off,” Lord Drayton said. “Would you care to place a small wager on who will win it?” He grinned at her, showing a bit of mischief. Or a gambling problem.

  “It’ll be Thomas,” Anne said, not taking her eyes off the field. “Bet a copper on Thomas and you won’t lose, Fay.”

  With Anne’s permission to partake in the friendly wager, Fay bet a penny on Thomas. As promised, she won when poor Nicholas took Thomas’ lance in the shoulder and went flying. He bounded right back up again and only limped slightly as he made his way off the field in disgrace.

  After several more fruitless attempts by the squires, Fay lost interest in watching them miss and have to get ready again and again. After all, it was for training and not specifically to entertain them. She was being more than adequately entertained by Lord Drayton. He made her laugh a few times. But he never asked a single question, which she might have taken as rude in her own time. Since she couldn’t actually speak about her old life, and hardly knew anything about her new one, however, she found it relaxing not to have to think very hard.

  About an hour passed pleasantly this way when Batty flung herself forward so passionately, she nearly shoved Fay out of her chair. “This is it, this is it,” she said, squeezing Fay’s shoulder. “Sir Tristan will square off against Brom.”

  “Finally, the real deal,” Anne said.

  Fay continued to be surprised by her new sister, who she’d never dreamed would be so interested in jousting or so knowledgeable about it. Fay had won every bet she’d made with Lord Drayton due to Anne’s shrewd counsel.

  Everyone on the field had been waiting for this moment as well, for they lined up and cheered as Tristan and Brom made a showy trip around the field on their horses. Lord Drayton said something to her she couldn’t hear over her pounding heart, and she didn’t dare look away for fear of missing a second of Tristan doing what he did best.

  “If only he’d put on an archery display for us,” Anne said. “You should ask him, Fay. It would be so interesting.”

  “I’ve always found archery to be beneath the station of a knight,” Lord Drayton said.

  Fay and Anne both cast him dark looks and Fay noticed his previous good cheer had gone missing since they all only had eyes for Tristan and Brom. She didn’t want to lose his favor, but she really couldn’t miss the main event they’d been waiting all morning for. A real joust by men who were skilled warriors.

  “Brom says archery is to be the wave of the future,” Batty said.

  This time, Lord Drayton wasn’t as amicable toward an opposing opinion and ignored her, looking sourly at the men as they completed their round. Brom made his way to his end of the field but, to Fay’s complete surprise, Sir Tristan pulled his horse up in front of their tent. He made a graceful hand gesture toward her.

  “My lady Fay, I shall win this for you,” he said before trotting to his side.

  She looked at Anne, who reached out and pressed Fay’s chin upward, effectively closing her gaping mouth, then smiled knowingly, albeit sadly. Batty pounded on her back, then quickly apologized, recalling Fay had been close to death only a week before.

  “It’s all for fun,” Anne said. “Please settle yourself, Batilda.”

  “Now he just has to win it,” Marjorie groused, but she put her sewing aside, eyes trained on the field.

  “Oh, I wanted Brom to win, but now how can I?” Batty said. “Lady Fay, you should have given him a token.”

  “Nonsense,” Lord Drayton cut in sharply. Then he said with forced calm, “As Lady Anne has said, it’s only a jest. It’s not a real tournament, only training. I rather wonder now that I haven’t wasted the better part of my day.”

  Fay didn’t have time to figure out how she felt about Lord Drayton’s sudden poor attitude. She supposed acting jealous was a good sign and that she should say something to put him at ease but, at the moment, she didn’t give a bag of beans about his feelings. She leaned forward, part out of eagerness, part because Batty pressed heavily against her shoulder. She reached up and grabbed Batty’s hand. Both their men faced off against one another. What would be the outcome?

  Wait, had she just considered Sir Tristan her man? Nothing was set in stone and, like Anne said and Lord Drayton had so bitterly reiterated, Tristan was only playing. Wasn’t he?

  The horses took off, much faster and with more ferocity than any of the young squires’ mounts and everyone, even Lord Drayton, drew in a breath. It was over in the blink of an eye, with Brom ten feet from his horse on the ground, Tristan’s lance pulverized, the pages jumping and shouting with glee.

  Her father caught her eye from where he stood near Sir Tristan’s and Lord Drayton’s men, and winked. She wondered if he thought the romantic announcement was a joke. She’d thought he approved of Tristan until Drayton showed up, but now she wasn’t sure who he favored.

  “Quite impressive,” Anne said.

  Batty babbled her agreement, gushing about Sir Tristan’s ability for a solid twenty seconds. “I was
certain Brom would win. He’s bragged about his prowess, but Sir Tristan blasted him from his horse. I can’t wait to tease him about it.”

  “Be careful,” Marjorie said. “Fragile egos can lead to things getting broken.”

  “Brom doesn’t have a bit of ego,” Batty said. “If he’s not in terrible pain, I’m certain he’ll be laughing as well.”

  “He looks to be standing up all right,” Lord Drayton said. “And it was an impressive match. I wonder how he’d do against my knight Sir Ulrich.” He pointed to a burly man that Fay remembered from the parade of knights he’d brought with him. He was taller than his horse at the ears and almost as wide. “I’ve never seen him lose.” He shouted for Ulrich to come over to where they sat and the giant ambled over at once.

  “Lord Drayton,” he said with a slight bow, also tipping his head at the ladies.

  “Challenge Sir Tristan,” he said imperiously. “The man obviously thinks very highly of his skills, but I was telling the ladies here that I’ve never seen you unhorsed.”

  Fay thought she saw a hint of a frown darken Sir Ulrich’s face, but he nodded, bowed again, and backed away. A moment later, he loudly announced his challenge. They’d already been out practicing for hours with the squires, and the last joust between Sir Tristan and Brom had meant to be the finale for the spectators. Servants were already setting up long plank tables and loading them up with food. After only a brief hesitation, Tristan turned to the tent. He caught Fay’s eye instantly since she hadn’t taken her eyes off him once since he dismounted his horse.

  Do it, she silently pleaded. And send him flying even further than you sent Brom.

  Something about Lord Drayton’s last second challenge reeked of poor sportsmanship, bordering on outright babyish behavior. Her stomach was finally sending her ravenous hunger signals after being out of commission for so long and she wanted to get the show on the road so she could eat.