My escort approached him, bowed his head, and spoke in a low voice.
The knight lowered his bow and turned toward me.
He was in his early thirties. His blond hair, a shade darker than his golden tan, was cropped short. His jaw, with a hint of stubble, was square and flared, but not too heavy, balanced by his high cheekbones and a chiseled nose. His lips were narrow, his eyebrows thick and slightly darker than his hair, and his eyes, small and piercing blue, seemed to be caught in a permanent half-squint.
The flowers around him were delicate and fragile, and the white fabric of his tabard was so thin and light, it moved when he turned. If this had been a painting, I would’ve expected a different man, someone lean and graceful with beautiful, maybe even delicate features. Instead, he was all harsh strength and refined power. The contrast was stunning.
The sun chose that moment to break through the clouds, drenching the entire courtyard in golden light. It spilled onto him and he almost glowed.
Oh wow. The Defenders didn’t need to advertise, but if they had to, they could just slap him on a recruitment poster and call it a day.
The man listened to my escort, waved him off, and started toward me.
Here we go. I’d read the books over and over. I knew how the nobles spoke to each other. My manners were refined because, apparently, I’d been learning etiquette from the Lord of Selva. I could do this.
The closer he came, the larger he got. He was at least as tall as Gort. Maybe even taller. Six foot four? Six foot six? All the broad shoulders you would ever need. Not only was he large, but he moved so well, he reminded me of Reynald.Everard.I had to stop calling him Reynald in my head. This man walked with the same light gait of a warrior trained to respond to sudden threats.
I’m looking for a man in armor. Six five, blue eyes.I almost laughed. After everything that happened, I must’ve finally lost it.
He reached me and bowed. It was a shallow bow, polite and perfunctory, a simple courtesy afforded to an unfamiliar woman of noble birth. Well, he probably did have a trust fund judging by the manners.
“Welcome, my lady. What can the Order do for you on this beautiful morning?”
His voice matched him, a smooth baritone. You could tell that he was used to roaring commands in the heat of a battle, and now he was deliberately controlling the volume, taking care to speak softer because it was just the two of us here.
“I’m afraid there has been a mistake, my lord. I’m here to see Lord Berengur.”
“Lord Berengur has left us for the time being to take care of a personal matter. However, I have known him for many years. We trust each other to handle problems in each other’s stead. Perhaps I could be of service?”
“When will he be back?”
“Not for another week, I’m afraid.”
Another week would be too late.
“In that case, I regretfully ask for permission to impose on your hospitality. May I ask your name, sir?”
At least tell me who I’m speaking with.
“Forgive me. I should have introduced myself. It has been a complicated day, and clearly, I have misplaced my manners. I am Earl Bellen. But here, within these walls, the honorifics are unnecessary. Inside the Citadel, I’m just a knight, one of many. May I ask your name?”
Earl Bellen. Bellen . . . Didn’t ring any bells. How was he not some kind of major character in the books? Of course, he could be lying to me, but I had no idea why he would. We’d never met.
“Maggie,” I told him.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Lady Maggie . . . ?”
“Just Lady Maggie, my lord.” Every time someone said Lady Maggie, it sounded ridiculous, and now I was saying it, too, and feeling stupid every time I did.
“My issue is complicated. I came to appeal to Lord Berengur for help.”
“Perhaps we better sit down then.” He indicated a table and two chairs set at the crossing of paths between the flower beds.
We strolled toward it.
“Does the scent of hafia bother you? Some people find their aroma too heady.”
“Not at all,” I said. “The scent is pleasant, and the flowers are very beautiful.”
