Page 93 of The Blacksmith

“It was Conrad who killed him.”

Lance lifted the broken hilt. “The guard broke Conrad’s sword with one strike. While he was engaged with Guy, Conrad slit the man’s throat with the piece of blade that remained.”

“But it is not there any longer? ’Tis only a hilt.”

“Aye.” He turned the hilt over in his hands. “When we tossed the guard’s body in the river, this went with it.”

The guard’s body.

Idalia had suspected as much.

“It was only later, with clearer thinking, that I fetched it, realizing the discovery of Conrad’s broken blade with the body would not bode well for him. I removed the remainder of the blade.”

“And kept the hilt?”

He nodded. “Conrad wanted to be rid of it.”

“So you took it? Kept it safe?”

Laying the hilt on the grass, he turned to her.

“Aye.” Lance held her hand once more. “We vowed to keep that secret, and I’ve not told anyone since. Every year the four of us meet at the tournament. But we never discuss what happened with Cait and her attacker.”

“Cait.” She said the name, trying to imagine what the lady had endured, but it was too excruciating. “Is she well now?”

“Aye, according to Terric she is. I’ve not seen her since that day. Cait never returned to another tournament and remains in Bradon Moor. She refuses to even visit Dromsley Castle. She won’t come back to England.”

“I can understand her reason.”

“It was a different king, of course—John’s father—but it had an impact on all of us. Respect must be earned—it is not owed to a man simply because he’s affiliated with the king.”

“Your reason for the rebellion?”

“Nay. My reasons are simple. Conrad asked for our support. And his cause is just. King John must be stopped.”

Conrad willed it. It was the right thing to do.

Lance had no personal stake in this. He only did it to support his friend. His country.

He was exactly the man she’d thought him to be.

And he was hers.

“And now you have my support,” she said. “Though it is a small victory, to be sure.”

“A small victory? Idalia, how could you say such a thing?”

She’d just meant that she could do little in a rebellion against the king, but from his expression, Lance did not seem to agree.

The way he looked at her, with such love and longing, made her forget everything except for how blissful it had felt being joined with him the night before.

Lance must have been thinking the same. His eyes darkened. The air around them seemed charged with electricity. Their contemplation of the past had ended. They were right here, rooted in this very moment.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

He leaned forward.

“I’ll gladly do that, and more, my sun.”