A Dark Champion by Kinley MacGregor

with yourminstrel friends visiting and while we’ve been here, it has come to our attention that there is many a fine man to be had.”
    “Aye,” Bridget agreed. “Have you seen Stephen of Nottingham? A finer man I’ve never beheld.”
    “He’s a barbarian,” Rowena said as she remembered the way the man had belched at dinner the night before. He had then slammed his goblet down and ordered more wine, which he had consumed faster than she could blink. It was followed by another belch.
    “He’s a man,” Marian snapped. “No offense, milady, but we’ve all had it up to here”—she held her hand to her chin—“with those mewling knaves you have visiting Sussex. We’re tired of having them sing odes to our eyes and juices while our juices are drying up. We want a real man.”
    “Aye!” they agreed in unison.
    Bridget patted Rowena gently on the arm. “We understand and respect the fact that you’re not inclined for a manly sort, milady. But for the rest of us, we rather like someone who can pick us up and not whine about it. Lord Stryder has many knights in his company.”
    Joanne nodded. “Knights from good families.”
    “Knights with strong muscles,” Marian added.
    “Aye,” Bridget continued. “And to our way of thinking, you marry Lord Stryder and we can have our pick of them.”
    Rowena was aghast. “I can’t believe this. You would sacrifice me to Stryder so that you can—”
    “It’s not a sacrifice,” Joanne said, interrupting her. “Lord Stryder is the catch of all Christendom. You should be flattered.”
    If she heard that one more time…
    Rowena sought peace from her women, but no matter where she tried to go, they dogged her steps, each one telling her of the plan she had to see Rowena united to Stryder forevermore.
    This was turning out to be the longest day of her life.
     
    Stryder paused in his tent as his men joined him.
    Will stood even in height to him and held the same shoulder-length black hair. His demeanor was normally one of ill-natured surliness, but today his face was even stonier face than usual.
    Two inches shorter, Swan stood to Will’s right. Swan was the ladies’ man out of their tight-knit group. A rogue charmer, he was seldom ever found without a woman near his side. His hair was a dark brown, falling just past his shoulders, and he wore a stylish goatee. His eyes were piercingly blue.
    The man was fond of gambling equally with his life and with his coin.
    To Swan’s right was Raven, who was as dark as his name. At barely a score-and-one in age, he was still a bit gangly in frame, but would no doubt fill out in the next few years. He’d always been like a younger brother to Stryder, who had adopted the boy while they had been prisoners in Outremer.
    Just behind the three of them was Val, who stood a good head and shoulders above them all. Named forSt. Valentine, the man found very little amusing about his name and even less amusing about his giant height. But otherwise, he was without a doubt the best natured of the lot of them and was usually found laughing over the oddest things.
    At the moment, though, his face would rival Will’s for grave seriousness.
    “Surely none of you think I killed Cyril,” Stryder said as he faced them.
    They passed a baffled look amongst themselves. “Nay, that never entered our minds,” Will spoke for the group while he unsheathed his sword.
    Stryder eyed him suspiciously. “What is it you do?”
    “Remember when you told us you’d rather be dead than married?” Val asked.
    Will stepped forward. “We’re about to grant you your wish.”
    Stryder shook his head. “Put your sword away.”
    “Nay,” Swan said. “I spent the night with a maid from Rowena’s camp and she had much to say about their plans to see you two wed. You are doomed, Stryder. Run now while you’re able.”
    Stryder scoffed. “Don’t be a fool. Even if I wished to, which I don’t, I can’t. To do so would make me look guilty, and we need to