To Desire (The Knight School Chronicles #4)

Chapter 1

E llsworth Castle, Isle of Ely, England, 1152

“Father.”

He sat alone. Darien’s mother’s chair beside him on the raised dais had been empty since Darien was a young boy. True to his word, his father had never replaced its original occupant. Theirs was a rare love match, and the only woman he’d ever sit beside again was “your mother, when we reunite in heaven.”

After bowing to his father and accepting warm words of welcome from his father’s retainers seated in the hall, Darien approached the sixth Earl of Ellsworth.

“Son,” he said, standing. It had been three years, too short a time for the earl to have aged so rapidly. Darien had never been fostered by anyone other than his father, and returning to find him looking more like an old man than the warrior who trained him, took away some of his annoyance at being called home.

When the older man descended the two stairs and opened his arms in a rare public display of affection, claps greeted the men’s embrace.

“Welcome home.”

Everything Darien had been prepared to say fell by the wayside. Had he wanted to leave Castle Blackwood to make the journey here? Nay. But now, Darien was glad he’d done so.

“Are you well?” he asked, knowing his father would not admit otherwise.

“Aye,” he said, as the two men released each other and made their way back up the stairs. Darien sat to his left, glancing briefly at the seat his mother would have occupied. The meal he’d interrupted resumed. With no one near, the two men were able to speak freely.

“You said there was an urgent matter?” Time was a luxury he could not waste. It was imperative he return to Blackwood quickly.

“We will speak on that privately. Tell me your news. Rumor makes its way to Ely, but accounts often differ. They say the king was released from captivity in exchange for Matilda’s half-brother.”

Darien thanked the servant who poured his ale and looked around the familiar hall, its vaulted ceilings soaring overhead. Cold stone walls were illuminated by flickering sconces and the bright light of an oversized hearth close by. Tapestries depicted ancient battles, and crests of the long-gone Ellsworth earls hung intermittently between them. The air smelled faintly of woodsmoke and iron, the great hall’s ambiance one of both power and tradition, where the whispers of past rulers lingered.

“I heard as much on the road as well. And also that King Stephen is targeting Brien FitzCount at Wallingford Castle by building a countercastle nearby.”

“The tides are turning, son.”

Darien glanced sideways at his father. Though it was not a secret Ellsworth sided with the empress, neither had the earl been pleased about Darien’s recruitment into the Guardians of the Sacred Oak. He worried such open support would break their generations-long commitment to remaining, as much as possible, out of the politics that plagued much of England.

The Isle of Ely’s remote location, and whispers of mystery, which none of them disputed, purposefully, had served them well. But this dispute had lasted longer than most. Now, fifteen years later, it had become impossible for any in England not to openly declare for one side.

“I would know why you called me home,” Darien said, impatient to learn the meaning of his father’s words. Knowing him well, “the tides are turning” sounded more like a prediction than a simple offhanded statement.

Rather than responding, the earl accepted his meal and began to eat. With no recourse but to do the same, Darien followed suit. “I wrote to you of the men I befriended at Castle Blackwood.”

“The Earl of DeVere’s son, fighting for our cause. That was a surprise, I will admit.”

“Roland’s beliefs are his own, and he follows a path he believes in.”

“They may pay dearly for such a path.”

“Many have,” Darien admitted. King Stephen had taken land and title from many of Matilda’s supporters. “It is a chance he, and we along with him, are willing to take.”

This time, there was no doubt about the cause of the shadow that crossed the earl’s expression. For many years, it had been the two of them at Ellsworth. No future earl had been fostered anywhere but on the isle, for reasons known only to their family. As such, Darien knew his father well.

Something had happened to shake the earl’s resolve concerning their support. If he’d called Darien home to ask him to remain, it would not bode well. Darien would no sooner abandon the cause, and his friends, than he would surrender his sword at the feet of the very tyrant they sought to overthrow.

“Tell me more of the others. The blacksmith and the tourney knight. And of London. Were you a part of Matilda’s escort?”

Darien did so, asking for his father’s own report about the home he would someday inherit. It was only when the meal was cleared and the earl gave leave for those in the hall to retire despite his presence that Darien’s father finally told him why he’d been summoned home.

“She’s had a vision.”

Darien had suspected as much. He almost wished he could stop his father from continuing. Throughout the meal, he had pieced together enough to know the next words that would come from his father’s mouth would not be welcome.

He waited. They were alone now, the meal cleared and the hall emptied. Nothing stopped the earl from continuing except his own hesitation. One that did not bode well for Darien.

“She will not regain the throne. Your time at Castle Blackwood is at an end.”