Timeless by Amanda Paris

not discussed it before, but now might be
the only real chance he would have. It all depended on my father.
Would he give his only daughter to his best knight? Had Damien
proven himself worthy enough for such a huge prize?
    Damien looked at me directly, and I could see
that he weighed the odds of success and failure in his mind. If my
father turned him down, he likely would show his wrath to Damien,
forever ending any chance of our marrying.
    I could feel Lamia turning her head towards
me, and I looked hastily away, a signal to Damien that the time was
not right.
    “Merely to serve as my liege lord’s champion
is enough for me,” Damien answered, understanding my downward
gaze.
    Another cheer rose up from the crowd. Damien
had become their favorite knight; he embodied all the ideals of the
chivalric code—courtesy, honor, humility, loyalty, fidelity. They
could not get enough of him.
    My father smiled radiantly at him, his aged
features briefly cast into a look of youth as he basked in the glow
of a beloved knight, whom he regarded almost as a son. It was this
affection that I hoped would win my father over to Damien’s
suit.
    “A worthy knight! We salute you!” he
exclaimed, taking Lamia’s hand into his.
    The unwounded knights raised their swords in
admiration of one so young and brave. My heart swelled with
adoration, and I felt pride growing inside of me.
    My face, ever a register of my feelings, grew
warm with love.
    Lamia grasped my arm with her free hand and
squeezed tightly.
    “And why does a maiden blush so?” she said
angrily, her words drowning in the cheers around us.
    “Let me go!” I said, trying to wrench my arm
away from her grip.
    “To the hall!” My father called out, not
seeing Lamia’s hold over me. She had the remarkable knack of
grasping me in public without anyone’s noticing. I often had
bruises or scratch marks for days afterwards.
    She abruptly released me, leaving the
tell-tale marks that would turn black and blue by the next morning.
My father had started down, thankfully leading Lamia away from me.
I hung back from them, hoping to see Damien one last time before we
both had to return our separate ways to the castle.
    The tournament had ended for the day. I
watched Damien mount his horse, but not before he gave me a
meaningful look. I knew we’d find each other later.
    Lamia looked back and followed the line of my
gaze.
    “This isn’t over,” she hissed through
clenched teeth as she turned back to my father, her scarlet mouth
turned down and her black eyes blazing rage.
    Happily, I escaped her, if only temporarily.
I knew I couldn’t go immediately to Damien. I would have to wait
for tonight when we could find a moment to leave the hall
undiscovered. Each tournament was followed in the evenings by a
banquet in the castle. At least two hundred people would fill the
benches in the hall, and I could easily slip out with so many
milling about.
    We’d taken separate caravans from the castle
to the tournament. I would have preferred to ride my mare, but
Lamia had insisted that I accompany her and my father, though I
could do so in a separate caravan, with Millicent, my maid,
following.
    I knew Damien would not be able to find me
without attracting notice, and I focused instead on biding my time,
waiting until later to elude Lamia’s penetrating eye. Lately, she’d
begun to keep a closer eye on me, and I wondered what her plans
might entail. They could not bode well.
    The mist cleared, and the castle rose up
before us, the outer stone walls towering over the small, strategic
peak that the first Lord of Montavere had chosen as his castle site
in 1102, over a century before. He’d defeated another less powerful
noble, overtaking the weaker Norman stronghold, a more defenseless
structure easily breached during an attack, and replacing it with
the impenetrable defenses of Montavere Castle. It had taken the
last 100 years to build, with a thousand masons all working
together, some