Page 12 of To Love

A chuckle escaped him at such a thought.

Elara spun toward him as she turned the key to her chamber door. Alden pursed his lips closed, knowing, if she asked, he could not reveal the source of his amusement.

She stepped inside.

Alden paused on the threshold.

“Come,” Lady Elara said in the matter-of-fact voice she used during instruction.

Alden’s pulse raced as he stepped past her. Breathing in the scent of vanilla and a hint of gardenia, one uniquely hers, did nothing to assuage his wayward thoughts as Alden spied the four-poster bed inside what was likely one of the largest chambers at Blackwood. Since there was no lord or lady of Blackwood, the castle temporarily given to their order for the purpose of training, likely this was the lady’s chamber.

It was furnished with ornate yet practical pieces, a canopied bed adorned with rich fabrics, a wooden chest for storing clothes and personal belongings, and comfortable chairs and benches for seating. Each wall was adorned with tapestries and embroidered hangings depicting scenes from mythology and religious works. A fireplace mantel, adorned with candles, dominated the room.

“This way.”

They walked through her bedchamber, across a rich carpet covering the stone floors into another room, a sitting area for receiving guests. Alden glanced at the door, which must have been one they passed. Why not enter directly into this room rather than her bedchamber?

Oil lamps on both sconces and every tabletop illuminated the small chamber, casting a warm and inviting glow. Books were scattered over every other available surface.

“If it pleases you,” she said, indicating he should sit by a much smaller fireplace than the one inside her adjoining chamber. Even so, it offered light and warmth as Alden sat, curious.

Lady Elara did the same, across from him. As always, her back straight and chin raised, his Strategies instructor appeared composed. Regal. Untouchable.

“Have you ever had any allegiances that might conflict with our order’s mission?”

Of all the things he might have expected her to say, questioning his loyalty to the cause was not one of them.

“My lady, I am uncertain how I’ve given you the impression—”

“Master Alden, I have many questions to ask, and we’ve much to discuss. If you will answer my questions, we can get more quickly to the heart of the matter.”

What, in Mary’s name, was she speaking about?

Lady Elara sighed. “Please, if you would simply answer the question.”

He no longer cared for this discussion. Not even with her.

“Nay, I have not.”

“Have you ever been approached by anyone to betray our order or disclose sensitive information?”

“Never.”

“You spoke of loyalty to your friends. What do you believe it means, to be loyal?”

A memory came flooding back. A young nobleman had come to claim his sword, one of the first Alden had forged without the aid of his father. Though he was pleased by Alden’s handiwork, the young noble had scoffed upon seeing the hilt of Alden’s own sword, which lay beside his workbench.

“A fleur-de-lis? You are a blacksmith, not a knight.”

Alden had faltered. None had ever questioned him about the small symbol before, one which represented the purity, faithfulness, and honor of the chivalric code he would abide by in his bid to become a knight.

He had never admitted it aloud to anyone. Not his parents nor his siblings. But he did so to this young noble, and the man’s response was one he would never forget.

“Master Alden?”

Brought back to the present, he answered curtly. “Loyalty implies constancy in one’s actions, even in the face of challenges, temptations, or adversities. ’Tis a virtue that fosters trust, unity and mutual support within a relationship.”

He could say more, but it seemed to be enough.