Lily nodded gratefully. “Even when we were growing up, you were faster than anyone else at Kenilworth,” she said. Then she paused, sitting back in the chair and putting her feet on a small stool that had a pillow upon it. Her hands went to her blossoming belly. “Lady Lancaster liked to take credit for your skill, you know.”
Adria grinned as she laid out the chosen fabric. “I know.”
Lily watched the woman fuss with the fabric as her mind traveled back to the glory days of Kenilworth Castle when she and Adria and many other well-bred young women fostered there amongst royalty. The days before she was summoned back to Lioncross Abbey Castle, her father’s seat on the Welsh Marches, and consigned to a much slower life than she would have liked.
Back in the days when she had first met Will.
She didn’t consider those particularly joyful days.
“Do you remember the time we went to Coventry and one of the de Nerra sons got into that terrible fight when another knight tried to speak to me?” she asked. “Lady Lancaster used to laugh at the men who would throw themselves at us. Do you recall?”
Adria nodded. “I do, indeed,” she said. “Victor de Nerra had a nasty cut on his face as a result. Surely he still bears the scar.”
“He was a nice lad.”
“He was.”
“I wonder what became of him.”
Adria shrugged. “He’s probably serving the sheriffs of Hampshire,” she said. “I think that is the de Nerra lot in life. At least the ones from Selbourne Castle, where he was born.”
Lily sighed as she continued to rub her belly. “I think of those days often,” she said. “Days of pageantry and excitement. Do you?”
Adria could hear the longing in her tone. She had known the lovely Lady Lily for many years, ever since she had gone to foster at Kenilworth Castle at around eleven years of age and fourteen-year-old Lily took her under her wing. Lily was sweet and kind, but ambitious. She had spirit and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, but coming from one of the greatest warring dynasties in England, that wasn’t surprising. She had the de Lohr boldness, something that people attributed to her great-grandmother, a very lovely but bold woman who had turned the English court on its ear back in the day.
Or, so the stories went.
But Adria knew something a little different when it came to Lily. They were still the best of friends and always would be, but Lily was the kind of woman who should have been entrenched in court life. She should have married a courtier and spent her time in London. Instead, she’d taken a brief fancy to the young and very handsome Will de Wolfe and before she knew it, she was married to the man and pregnant with her first child. And that had ended Lily’s quest to be both political and powerful.
Adria was quite certain that Lily had never gotten over it.
“I would not say that I think of them often,” she said after a moment. “I do from time to time. I suppose I remember our friends more than I do anyone else, the girls we became close to. But… nothing more.”
Lily looked at her, then. “I am sorry,” she said softly. “How careless of me. I did not mean to bring back such things as you would probably rather forget.”
Adria knew what she meant. She glanced at her, smiling weakly. “There is nothing to forgive and there is nothing to forget,” she said. “I do not think of Gerard any longer, at least not in that way.”
“Then the pain has gone?”
Adria didn’t really want so speak of the knight she’d been so fond of, the young man she had planned to spend her life with. A freak accident had ended her dreams and his life. It had happened in one of the many tournaments that the Earl of Lancaster had hosted. The day itself had been such a normal day and a normal circumstance, and Gerard de Gil had performed well in his very first tournament since being knighted. But shards from a broken lance had pierced his neck brutally, even through the mail he wore, and it had taken him three days to die.
Three long, horrific days.
Adria had spent every moment by his side, tending to the man who had slowly died, his life trickling away like sands through the hourglass. After that, she couldn’t bear even thinking of becoming romantic with someone. At twenty years and five, she was something of a spinster.
But it was better than having her heart crushed again.
“The pain is never gone, I suppose,” she said upon reflection. “But it has dulled. Sometimes, I cannot even remember his face clearly and that saddens me. Do you remember him?”
Lily shrugged. “I remember that he had curly blond hair and a loud laugh,” she said. Then, she smiled. “I remember he liked to tell ridiculous jokes.”
That brought a soft giggle from Adria. “They were ridiculous, weren’t they?”
Lily laughed softly. “Awful,” she agreed. “I do not mean to push you, sweetling, but do you think time enough has passed that you should want to marry now? You know that Hermes has had his eye on you for some time. He comes from a fine family.”
Adria cast her a long look. “Hermes de Norville is about as ready for marriage as a wild stallion is ready to be tamed,” she said. “Even if he was ready, I would not consider him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is rash and reckless,” she said. “I do not think we would make a good match, for we have nothing in common to share. Shall I go on?”
Lily shook her head as she lay her head back against the chair. “Nay,” she said. “He is quite rash and reckless. You could tame the wild stallion, you know.”
“I don’t have a big enough whip.”
Lily burst out laughing just as there came a knock at the chamber door. She turned to the panel in time to see Will stepping into the chamber. He looked at his wife curiously.
“What are you laughing about?” he asked.
Lily pointed to Adria. “I am trying to convince Adie to marry Hermes,” she said. “She says that her whip isn’t big enough.”
Will grinned, looking at his wife’s lady-in-waiting, a woman he’d known almost as long as he’d known Lily. Adria de Geld was a perfect woman if there ever was one, at least in Will’s estimation. Petite, with a glorious cascade of auburn hair that tumbled in curls down her back, she had eyes the color of a spring meadow – a brilliant green that always looked tremulous and dewy. She had a pert nose and a mouth shaped like a cupid’s bow, a rare beauty indeed. Many a man at Carlisle had commented on the glorious appearance of Lady Adria, and a few had even made advances on her, but she had politely but firmly rejected them.
Hermes de Norville included.
“Hermes is not nearly good enough for her, so stop trying to make a match,” he said. “In fact, I came to tell you that I am bringing Hermes and Ronan with us to Castle Questing.”
“What of Marcellus?” Lily asked. “Is he remaining here?”
Will shook his head. “All three of them are coming,” he said. “Things are quiet at the moment, so I feel confident enough leaving the majority of the army under the command of the senior sergeants. It will do the knights good to get away and feast with their friends for a few days.”
Lily sighed. “I do not suppose I could not go, could I?”
“Nay.”