Page 55 of To Love

“Naught, except . . . I believe both Evelina and Amalia know already.”

Elara rolled her eyes, unable to restrain herself. “One only needs to speak to Gareth and Roland to see the truth of it.”

“You knew?” Before she could answer, he smiled. “Of course you did.”

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Let me bring them here.”

She did not have to ask who he meant by “them.”

“Eamon is too close to Father Percival,” she thought aloud. “And believes him to be innocent. Stirling, while it appears he may be innocent, is still suspect.”

“Ashford and Bennington do not have access to him.”

They knew, already. “We’ve naught to lose,” she said. “Nor time to spare.”

Alden pulled away from her. “I will return.”

“Have the men come with you.”

He nodded, understanding. And as quickly as he had come, Alden was gone. Rooting out the traitor was more important than she and Alden being together, but Elara could not help feeling disappointed too.

Without a maid, Elara had kept her chambers tidy, but with naught else to do, she ensured all was readied. Wishing she had more wine goblets, Elara reminded herself she was not at court entertaining but meeting in secret, attempting to ensure the Guardians of the Sacred Oak remained a secret.

Much sooner than expected, a knock at her door alerted Elara to the women. Checking to ensure it was, indeed, them, Elara opened the door and greeted Lady Evelina and Lady Amalia, the second now styled as such after marrying Roland not long ago. She had wished to wait, to allow his mother, a countess, a proper wedding, but Roland refused to do so. They would have two weddings, it seemed.

God willing.

All knew the dangers they placed themselves in here, and Roland was marching soon, with the others, to Winchester. Elara pushed the thought from her mind.

“Alden bid us to come here, straightaway,” Evelina said as the women entered.

“Come,” she said, ushering them inside. Elara had arranged the chairs to accommodate all that would be coming. As these were the lady’s chambers of the castle, the room was quite spacious, meant for such occasions as these.

Or perhaps not quite like this one.

“I’ve two goblets of wine,” she said. “Having dismissed my maid—”

“There is no need,” Amalia said. “Tell us how we can be of service.”

Elara did not hesitate. “You are aware of our situation,” she began.

“With the traitor?” Evelina did not mince words. “Aye.”

“We’ve cause to question the new priest.” Elara watched the tapestry, but so far, there was no sign of Alden and the others. “Somehow, we must discover if he is involved. There is a maid, Lila, who may be aiding him. Since the fire, our traitor has laid low.”

“I cannot believe Father Percival would be behind such treachery. He is a man of God,” Amalia said. “To cause the death of those poor animals . . .”

Elara did not have time to regale the woman with stories of men—religious ones included—who all thought were the pinnacle of righteousness, but were not, in any way.

“I believe,” she said instead, “all are capable of things that both align with their character and oppose it. Trust only yourself, my father has said many times.”

But she had broken that rule already. Elara trusted Alden too. With her very life. And had done so much too soon, but regrets were futile.

Finally, the knock she’d been waiting for. “Pardon,” she said, heading to the tapestry, pulling it aside and allowing Alden and the others inside.

Suddenly, her antechamber seemed much smaller than usual. Having Alden, Gareth, Roland and Darien in it . . . none were small men.