Page 53 of To Love

“If any do come to Roland with the knowledge of his brother, Stirling is our traitor.”

“If not him, then another at Ashford Manor tonight.” Elara took a sip of wine. Alden marveled at how calm, and cunning, she was. More so than he ever could have imagined.

Mine.

He wanted her. Adored her. Needed her. The thought of any other man having her, touching her . . . why those thoughts should come to him now, Alden did not know. But they came, nonetheless, and a feeling unlike any that had ever overtaken him made his previous claims of possession appear as child’s play.

“Who was present?” he managed to ask.

“The usual.” Eamon sighed. “Stirling, Ashford, Bennington, Pembroke, Claymore.”

“Why did you not simply ask Gareth if we had told Roland already? Especially before moving forward with the plan to involve Roland’s brother?”

At that, Eamon seemed even less pleased. “I tried. He would reveal nothing. Said we should speak with you directly. I’ve never met a group of men so . . .”

“Loyal?” Alden provided.

“Stubborn,” he said instead.

Elara laughed. “No matter. I assured Eamon, by Gareth’s response and my own instincts, Roland was either already on board or, if not, would be soon.”

Alden shook his head, as if to clear it.

“So if any bring the rumor to us that Roland’s brother was involved in a shift from Winchester to Reading, our suspicions of Stirling grow. But what of the mission itself? What do we hope to gain by pretending we march to Reading instead?”

“At best, that the traitor reveals themselves,” Elara said. “Or their accomplices do so. At worst, they pass along the false information to King Stephen’s supporters so news of your arrival in Winchester is delayed.”

“Our arrival, at Winchester or Reading, should not be revealed at all.”

“Nay,” Eamon agreed. “It should not.”

All three of them fell silent.

“This afternoon,” Alden remembered, suddenly. “I overheard one of the men speaking about the new priest. He seems to have taken a great interest in the recruit’s training.”

“Father Percival.” Eamon stretched his legs out in front of him. “A good man, though I will admit, he can be odd as well.”

“Odd?” Elara asked. “In what manner?”

“He is often worried and wrings his hands more than he keeps them still.”

“How did you meet him?” Alden asked, curious.

“I spent many years in Kindridge Moor, where he presided before coming here. It is where I first met . . .”

He stopped.

They waited.

When Eamon did not continue, Alden guessed at the remainder of his statement.

Where he first met Evelina’s mother. She’d been married to Ashford already, but Alden did not judge either of them. So often when marriages were arranged as theirs had been, the heart did not follow.

Which reminded him . . .

“Thank you, Eamon,” Elara said. “For your aid in this matter.”

He looked between her and Alden. It was a dismissal, though he did not appear offended. Eamon stood, gave her a quick nod and said, “It is always my pleasure. Alden, do be careful.” Before he could respond, the swordmaster added, nodding to the hidden door, “I would not wish for you to be caught here.”