Elyse strode through the gate of her father’s keep just after the eleventh bell. An old, rustic military fort, the keep had always been intended more for defense than to provide the lord and his family any degree of splendor. Still, the grand old fort was home to Elyse, the only home she knew.
Elyse was bored. Even in a quiet town like Colby, the market was usually abuzz with some kind of activity, but today, two days after Mildred’s Feast, even the market was empty. Not one to bury her nose in a book like her sister Hannah, Elyse enjoyed being outside, exploring and traveling. Her father reprimanded her for it, her tutors chided her constantly, but it wasn’t in her nature to be still. As a minor nobleman’s second daughter, her lot was to be married off to some middling hedge knight or some fat, landed merchant some fifteen or twenty years her senior. She could settle down and stick her nose in a book after she’d been married off.
She shuddered at the thought of being wed to a fat, old merchant. She liked young men, strapping men, men her own age.
The clanging of steel in the training yard drew Elyse’s attention. Speaking of young men…
“Keep your guard up, Farmboy, or I’ll nick you again!” Donal roared. He constantly ribbed his friend good-naturedly about his origins. Miles had come into Lord Darron’s employ a few years ago, when Onas had seen the potential in him. He grew up on a farm in southern Colbyshire, near the coast. Ever since boyhood, Miles had fancied himself a swordsman, and he was more than happy to leave the farm behind. No slouch in swordsmanship was Miles, but Donal, with steel in his hand, was the Ender himself. Miles clapped his hand to his side where Donal had grazed him and hissed.
Furious, the younger swordsman charged in, but a few feints and ripostes later, and Donal had sent him sprawling on his arse. As Miles got back up on one knee, breathing heavily, Donal laughed. “Your shoulder dips a bit every time you’re going to launch a crosshand strike. It’s a tell any squire can see coming, Farmboy. Let’s take a break.”
From her vantage point on the balcony, Elyse watched bemusedly. “What would my father say if he knew you were practicing with bared steel instead of training swords, Donal?”
The two warriors sheathed their blades and looked up to her. “Your pardon, Lady Elyse. He’s away on business. I reckoned that Miles would step it up knowing there was real danger involved.”
“You nicked my father’s third-best swordsman. I don’t think he’ll be happy.”
“Begging your pardon, Lady. I know what I’m doing with a sword. It was a scratch, nothing more.”
“Just a scratch, Mum.” Miles added.
Elyse knew there had been no real danger, but she enjoyed ribbing the jovial guardsmen nonetheless. “Carry on, then.”
“With our lady’s leave, we were going to over to the well to relax a bit.”
Elyse nodded her approval, and ducked back inside to be rid of her uncomfortable hat.
As she strode out to the training yard, she saw the two guardsmen lounging by the well. “You two are truly a sight. Kind on the eyes, as well.”
Miles smiled shyly. “Join us for some cool water, Mum?”
“No, Farmboy. I didn’t come all the way down here for water. I came to have a look at my father’s men, up close and half-naked.”
Donal lifted an eyebrow. “Lady, you play a dangerous game. You know that if we’re disrespectful to you, your father…”
“My father’s away, speaking to dignitaries from Vermain.” She motioned playfully, making as if to lift her skirt. “From the stories I’ve heard the girls in town tell, if I showed my flycatcher to the both of you, you’d know well what to do with it. Much as I’d like to have you both inside me, I can’t take the risk. If I went to visit the herbalist and charged a batch of bittekwort on my father’s credit, he’d know what it’s for. But they’re nothing to stop me from looking, And touching. Yes, lots of touching.”
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