Page 71 of To Love

Elara did not even notice the other women had come to them until Amalia gasped beside her. Others began to gather around the steward. With only a handful of recruits and the servants remaining at Blackwood, it was a small group but growing quickly.

“I’ve received word,” he said, lifting the scroll. “The Sacred Oak has lost. Once again, as at London, the empress barely escaped, this time under cover of darkness.”

“She was there?” one of the serving maids asked.

“Aye. It says”—he waved the scroll again—“many of her supporters have been captured or killed. They are calling it . . . a rout. Soldiers in disarray after . . .” He swallowed. “Robert of Gloucester was captured.”

“No.” Evelina grabbed her shoulder. “No, please.”

Elara reached for her hand and grabbed it.

“Does it say aught else?” Elara asked the steward. “Our men, specifically?”

He shook his head. “Nay. That is all. Our messenger was camped well outside the city and came quickly to bring us this news, before he spoke to any of our men directly.”

Pulling Evelina with her, Elara said to the maid who’d asked the question, “Bring us a meal. And wine,” she added. “To my chamber. For three.”

She bobbed a curtsy. “Aye, my lady.”

Without another word, Elara pulled Evelina along and bid Amalia follow. They’d barely reached the stairwell when the latter began to cry. Hurrying them along, Elara led both women abovestairs.

The moment she shut the wooden door behind them, escorting Evelina and Amalia into her chambers, Amalia cried in earnest. Evelina went to her, wrapping her arms around the woman.

Pacing the room, Elara’s mind wandered. Received word. Lost. Barely escaped. Rout.

Over and over again she replayed the steward’s word, but no clues emerged about their own men, not that she expected them to. Elara simply needed to make sense of it all.

As Amalia wiped her cheeks dry and Evelina released her friend, she thought aloud.

“They are recruited for a reason. Our men . . .”

Our men. As if Alden was hers.

“Our men are not like any others. They are skilled. Strong. Stealthy. If any have survived, it is them.”

“They lost.” Evelina sank into a chair. “London. Winchester. How many defeats will there be?”

“If they even return to us?” Amalia was not coping well with the news.

“Do not allow your mind to think the worst,” Elara coaxed, uncertain if she would listen.

“How?” she asked, her voice filled with sadness and the sorrow of someone who had given up hope. “You heard Pembroke. He called it a rout.”

“He did,” Elara admitted. “But we will rally. They will return to us.”

Evelina looked at her. Elara refused to consider any other outcome.

“When they do?” she asked. “What will you say to Alden?”

Elara had thought of nothing else. “What I should have said the night he left.”

For the first time since they received Pembroke’s news, Amalia’s shoulders relaxed. She needed something else to think about, and Elara would provide it for her.

“I will tell him that I love him. But I cannot give up this post, especially not now that we’ve more battles to fight. Putting my father more at risk, returning to court, is not feasible for me.”

“Meaning?” Amalia asked.

“I love him, but if he does not wish to marry, we cannot be together any other way. The order would not allow it, nor would I expect them to do so. Not with Alden as my apprentice.”