Page 22 of A Knight’s Reward

The boy edged even closer. An excited flush reddened his cheeks. “When were you on crusade? Did you meet King Richard? What does he look like? When⁠—”

“Button! What did I tell you?”

“Mama.”

The little boy looked so disappointed, Dominic could not resist a chuckle. “’Tis all right. He is merely curious.”

The barest smile touched Ewan’s mouth. Anticipation still glimmered in his eyes while his hands twisted into the front of his worn tunic. “Did you…” He gnawed his bottom lip. “Did you ever⁠—”

“Pottage, milord.” With a brisk thud, Ada set the bowl down on the table beside Dominic, a deliberate attempt, no doubt, to cut short the conversation.

Dominic smiled at her. “I thank you, good woman.”

She snorted, sounding remarkably like a rheumatic horse, then looked at Ewan. “Why do you not come with me for a moment? Your mama is running out of flour. We will go to my home and fetch some.”

Ewan shook his head. “I want to stay here.”

“I might have a sugared cake for you.” Ada reached for the lad’s hand. “I will see what I can find in my kitchen.”

Snatching his hand away, Ewan said, “I am not going. I want to show him my wooden sword.”

Gisela walked over, carrying cloth bandages and the ointment pot she’d taken to the stable. “Another time, Button. Now, you will go with Ada.” Worry shadowed her gaze as she looked at Ada. “He must wear his mantle. Do not let him push down his hood. He must stay covered up.”

“Of course,” the older woman said. Her soothing tone implied she’d discussed the matter several times before. “We are only going five houses away. He will be fine.”

Dominic frowned. Five houses away? For such a short distance, and on such a fine summer day, the boy did not need to wear his hooded mantle. Why did Gisela insist upon it? Why did she also keep covered up when outside? He longed to ask, but ’twas not his affair.

Scowling, Ewan crossed his arms. He did not budge when Ada fetched his mantle, cut from coarse, mud-brown wool. She held it out, clucking her tongue. At last, rolling his eyes, the boy relented and shoved his arms into the garment that looked several sizes too big.

Gisela stepped forward to murmur in Ada’s ear. Dominic pretended not to listen.

Drowning in his overlarge mantle, Ewan met Dominic’s gaze. “I have to know,” the little boy said in a whisper. “Did you ever...”

Dominic arched an eyebrow. He anticipated the rest of the question. Did you ever kill a man? Fight a Saracen? Dine with the king? “Aye?”

“Slay dragons?”

Slay dragons?

Dominic barely caught an astonished laugh. His eyes watered with the effort. Somehow, he forced a solemn expression. “Indeed,” he said, “I have.”

Gisela waited until the outer door closed. Then, she released a heavy, pent-up breath.

Sitting on the bench only a hand’s span away, Dominic chuckled.

“Do not laugh so,” she said, trying not to frown. She removed the lid from the ointment pot, releasing the strong, herbal scent.

“Ewan is a charming boy.”

Aye. He takes after his father.

“He is,” she said, lining up strips of linen bandages beside the pot on the table, “but you should not have told him you slayed dragons.”

The bench creaked as Dominic stretched back farther. “Why not?”

She straightened to glare at him. “’Tis a lie.”

“Is it?”