He stood against the wall, watching the king’s procession growing closer. He said nothing but waited.
Kes had found him in the great hall at dawn. They broke their fast together but Nicholas said very little except that he’d enjoyed their time together last night. So had she. When he had opened Monmouth’s History of the British Kings and began to read, she thought she might have found the man of her dreams. He read about Arthur and him going to Avalon to be healed. Was it all just coincidence? But a brooch with the Pendragon name on it had transported her over five hundred years into the past. Why did Nicholas read that passage in particular? What did it mean? She didn’t know and neither did Nicholas. He had to believe her now. She believed he was afraid of such a tremendous truth.
How much should she tell him? Talking about buildings and modern marvels was one thing. She knew about the princes in the Tower. Their fates were common knowledge in the twenty-first century, as was the fate of the Yorks and the Lancasters.
She had to keep it all to herself. Changing this time in history could have terrifying consequences.
“Will he send for you?” Kes asked him as the king’s carriage rolled by them and the king’s gaze settled on his commander.
“The instant he is on his feet, if not sooner,” Nicholas let her know. “Reg chases him, and he chases me.”
“Why does he chase you?”
Nicholas pushed himself off the wall with a dark smile. “Because he needs me. He needs me to win against Henry Tudor when he comes. And I will win, but not for Richard. The Lancasters killed my parents. For that, I remain loyal to York.”
What if she told him that Richard was killed in the Battle of Bosworth Field this coming August? No, no she couldn’t. What if Nicholas did something to change that day and Richard lived? No. She studied history. She didn’t change it.
But Richard did lose, and so did his army. What happened to Nicholas in that battle? Was he among the dead? An icy chill washed over her. She hadn’t considered that Nicholas was going to die soon.
It was unacceptable.
“Come.” He moved quickly through the crowd, away from the castle entrance.
“Where are we going?” It took a lot to keep up with him. She took two or three steps for his one.
Finally, he took her by the hand and pulled her away. She had to lift her skirts with one hand and use the other to hold on to him. She laughed at one point at the thrill of her feet lifting off the ground.
They didn’t stop until they reached the shore.
He pulled his boots and socks free and stepped into the water.
She smiled and did the same.
“Walk with me.”
She nodded. She knew better. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old girl. Nicholas was so dangerous. The worst there was. He was irresistible, seemingly genuine. She had to keep a clear head, but it was almost impossible when she was near him, like now.
“Who should I say I am when I meet the king?” she asked him.
“Stick with what you have remembered already. Your name. You are from Bridlington. Your great-aunt was the Duchess of Glastonbury. Do not add anything.”
“Ok.”
“Try to use the same words everyone else uses.”
“Aye.”
He looked at her and genuinely smiled for the first time that day. “Aye.”
“Will you get into trouble for leaving?” she asked as they strolled the shoreline.
“Not for long. He knows how I feel about him, but as long as I fight and win his wars, he will keep his nose up my arse.”
“What if you don’t win?” she asked quietly.
“I would have to be dead not to win.”
She was quiet after that and took a few more steps with him.
“Does that trouble you, Kestrel?” he asked, bending to look at her when she kept her gaze forward.
“Yes, I mean, aye, it troubles me. We’re friends. I don’t—do not want you to get killed.”
“I will do my best.” He smiled at her.
She didn’t want him to fight. Maybe he wasn’t mentioned in the history books because he wasn’t there. What if she found the brooch or a way back and took him back… rather, forward with her? She could trick him into going. So what if he hated her. He’d be alive.
She almost laughed and gave him a reason to believe she was a madwoman. She’d be lucky if she ever got back.
“Tell me more about your life, Kestrel. I want to forget duty while I can.”
“What haven’t I told you already? I live in a loft. It’s a big open space—”
“You live outdoors?”
“No, I mean there are no separate rooms. It’s just like one big room. We all have screens and alcoves for privacy.”
“How many of you live there?”
“There are five of us.”
“Two men and three women,” he grumbled and scowled for all he was worth. Kes was impressed that he’d listened to every word she’d spoken, at least about her roommates. She suspected he didn’t like the fact that she lived with two men. Did that mean he believed her? She didn’t know why it was so important to her if he did. What could he do to help? The realization of it all sank in a little deeper. Chances are she was stuck here. The Earl of Scarborough was all kinds of good looking, and he seemed nice enough when he wasn’t growling like a bear at his cousin or cutting men to smithereens.
But home was…home. It was everything she knew. Everything and everyone she loved. She wanted to go home. She felt the sting of her tears and could not keep them from falling.
“Do you think I’ll get back?”
He looked at her, scowl fading, his expression softening. “I do not know. But if there is a way, I will help you find it.”
She stopped breathing for a second. She wanted to jump into his arms. He would help her. He
