Page 31 of The Knight’s Reward

Kathryn forgot, at times, she was not playing a part. This was her life now, at least until she could learn more about her father, and she’d best become accustomed to it. Only then would she consider making her way south to her only surviving relatives. Though distant, her father’s instructions had been clear.

Except . . . he’d not accounted for his own murder. And she would not leave the north until she learned what had happened to him.

It took her a moment to realize the space was eerily empty. Earlier, there had been people everywhere—now, she saw only animals grazing on patches of grass and a stray servant or two milling around. In the distance, cheers and shouts went up. The others had gathered to watch something, and her impulsiveness bade her to make her way toward the distant sound. At least she took care to walk near the buildings in case she spotted someone who would force her into hiding. Silently thanking her father for the many times they’d slid in and out of castles such as this one, Kathryn followed the noise.

When she made it past the armory, the sound of hammering steel a familiar one, she finally understood. Although she could see only the gathered crowd from this vantage point, Kathryn could tell there was a large open space between the east bailey and the chapel to her right. Aside from the courtyard, the only area that large without buildings was typically a training yard of some sort.

Making her way through the crowd, Kathryn edged to the front.

And stared.

She had lived among kings and queens.

She had traveled further than nearly every person she’d ever met.

But she had never seen anything quite so extraordinary as Neill Waryn dueling with his brother. They were so evenly matched, Kathryn was sure the contest would go on for some time. Though it wasn’t their skill with swords or the way each ducked and whirled in between clashes that had her enthralled.

She’d seen many well-built men, and indeed, Bryce was as fit as one would expect of a knight. But Neill. Was he even human?

The greatest knight in all of Christendom.

She supposed the moniker had been earned, and the discipline needed to fight as he was now, to look the way he did . . . where did it come from?

Kathryn was much too interested in the answer to that question. In the man who fought his brother, drawing a crowd that likely included every man, woman, and child at Brockburg.

“’Tis a sight, for certain.”

As was the lady who’d appeared next to her.

Though her own hair mixed light and dark, never certain of its true shade, this woman’s hair was like pure gold—a stark contrast to the navy blue kirtle she wore so elegantly.

“Indeed, it is,” she agreed, looking away from the very beautiful Englishwoman back toward the yard.

“Who do you believe will win?” she asked.

Kathryn thought carefully. “The younger brother, I understand, rarely loses a contest.”

“I’ve heard the same.”

“The knight is sure to win,” a man blurted from beside them.

“Aye. Neill Waryn,” another agreed.

The blonde woman smiled. “I believe you are correct, gentlemen. His reputation precedes him.”

Kathryn watched the contest more carefully, attempting to ignore Neill’s physique and determine the best answer. She would agree, except . . .

“The older brother,” she finally said, garnering looks of surprise.

They continued to watch as Neill and Bryce clashed swords, the afternoon air stifling. The discomfort did nothing to disperse the crowd.

Suddenly, it was over.

Kathryn hadn’t seen it happen, but Bryce held his sword to Neill’s side. If the weapons had not been blunted, it would have been a disabling blow.

Neill raised his hands, conceding.

Kathryn was about to make a comment to the Englishwoman, but as quickly as she had appeared, the lady was gone. Likely for the best. Kathryn was supposed to be hiding, after all.