Free Lady Knight by L J Baker

senior by three or four years, her youngest brother to survive to
adulthood. Unlike their eldest brother, whom Riannon had met once or twice after
her sister Joan had taken Riannon into her own household, Riannon had no
memories of Guy. Riannon had not lived in her widowed father’s masculine
household even before Guy had been sent, at seven years old, to begin a man’s
education as a page to one of their father’s important vassals. By the time she
had fled Joan’s well-intentioned interference and their father’s wrath, Guy had
been a young knight far away in the service of a Brallandese prince. Given his
friendship with the Lady Eleanor, though, Riannon set the unknown Guy
considerably higher in her estimation than their eldest brother.
    “I have the privilege and great pleasure of numbering him amongst my friends,”
Eleanor said. “You and he are most alike. In looks, that is. So much that I
mistook you for him. But you two are so opposite otherwise. He is light-humoured
and ready with his tongue. Easy and charming.”
    “I am not that,” Riannon said.
    “No,” Eleanor agreed. “But, with the greatest respect for your brother, one
cannot always live on a dish of comfits. Perfumed sugar and candied ginger make
excellent special treats, but they are less satisfying than a dish of fine
spiced venison.”
    “Does that make me a piece of grilled meat or the hunted deer?”
    “Neither! You are the spice, of course. Exotic, rare, and imported.”
    Riannon smiled.
    “One!” Eleanor said.
    “If my brother has twice the wit I have,” Riannon said, “he must yet be
hard-pressed to keep apace with you, lady.”
    “Whereas I wish that most people had half the wit they think they do. We’d all
get much better conversation that way.”
    Riannon smiled again.
    “Two,” Eleanor said.
    “Two?” Riannon said. “What do you count?”
    “Your smiles. I’ve set myself the challenge of making you smile half a dozen
times ere we stop at noon to dine.”
    “I hope you do not forfeit much if you fail,” Riannon said.
    “Fail? The possibility had not occurred to me.”
    Riannon laughed and gave the lady her count of three. Four, five, and six
rapidly followed.
    The morning passed so swiftly that Riannon was surprised when they came upon the
tent set up at the roadside by Eleanor’s servants for their noon meal and rest.
    Riannon dismounted and helped Eleanor from the saddle. The lady smiled as she
dropped to the ground. Riannon lost her smile and went rigid.
    “My thanks,” Eleanor said.
    Riannon nodded stiffly and didn’t follow when Eleanor linked arms with her niece
and walked to the shade of the gaily-coloured tent. That brief, fleeting,
impersonal contact – the first time she had touched Eleanor – jarred every sinew
with a shock that was painful because of the pleasure it afforded her. Shite.
    “Something ails you, cousin?” Aveline asked.
    Riannon stared down at Aveline. With a certainty that Riannon would stake her
soul on, she did not want Aveline to guess that she felt attracted to Eleanor.
    “No,” Riannon said. “Nought ails me. Save the old complaint. Which I’ll never be
free of, shall I?”

    Eleanor walked into the crowded hall and immediately spied Riannon. She talked
with her squire. The Lady of Gast stood tall even amongst men.
    Their hostess, who seemed overwhelmed if not overjoyed at such a large party
descending on her hospitality for a night, perched on a bench near the hearth.
The addition of a chimney to the high end of the hall must be of recent doing,
if the soot coating the rafters and underside of the roof was any indication.
Household servants eased their way through the crowd of guests. They
respectfully moved aside to allow Eleanor to pass. The dogs needed more of a
prodding to get out of the way.
    She caught a glimpse of Cicely beside their hostess. Naer Aveline’s presence
ensured that Cicely tried to shrink into the shadows. Still, Eleanor could not
completely fault her