The Captive Maiden

Ruexner snorted, then walked silently back to his own tent. Gisela watched him go and shuddered.

 

She focused instead on Valten. Even sweaty, with the dust of his tussle with Ruexner still clinging to his damp hair, he made her breathing shallow at being the object of his attention. His expression gradually relaxed.

 

“Did he hurt you?”

 

“No.” Gisela realized she was still clutching her scarf. Valten too seemed to notice it.

 

He gave her a questioning lift of his eyebrows and held out his right arm. “May I? Wear your colors?”

 

She nodded and stepped forward. She hoped he didn’t notice the way her hands shook as she tied the blue scarf around his arm.

 

He looked into her eyes for a long moment, and neither of them spoke. Clearing his throat, he said, “I must go.”

 

Gisela wanted to say something. “Of course. Be careful.” Dumb. Of course he won’t be careful. He’s jousting.

 

One corner of his mouth went up. “Say a prayer for me.”

 

“I will.”

 

And he walked away, the ends of her scarf dancing around his forearm.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter

 

 

 

8

 

 

 

 

 

Once back in the stands with Cristyne, Gisela fidgeted nervously, waiting for Valten to return to the field. She talked with her new friend as much as her attention would allow, and when Valten’s turn came, he rode out looking tall and powerful on Sieger’s back.

 

Her hands grew sweaty as the blue scarf seemed to wave at her from around Valten’s arm. Her face heated and her heart pounded faster.

 

“Is that your scarf the duke’s son is wearing?” Cristyne stared at Gisela with wide eyes.

 

Gisela forced herself to breathe. “It is.”

 

Cristyne said her name in a slow, awed whisper. “Gisela.”

 

Gisela shrugged, trying to pretend nonchalance. “He is very kind. I met him accidentally in the Marktplatz two weeks ago.”

 

“Lord Hamlin, the duke’s son, was wandering around in the Marktplatz?”

 

She shrugged again. “He was there.”

 

“And he talked to you?”

 

“He admired my horse, then he took me to see his at the castle stables. We talked about horses.”

 

“What will Rainhilda say?” Cristyne asked breathlessly. They both chanced a discreet glance in that lady’s direction. Her gaze was fixed on Valten as he paraded around the lists, and she looked a shade paler than usual. Her jaw looked set and tight, her lips a firm line.

 

Cristyne turned her gaze on Gisela, a questioning glint in her eye.

 

She shook her head slightly and smiled. “He is very kind.” She’d already said that, but it was true. It was a lame explanation for why Valten had wanted her, Gisela Mueller, to tie her scarf around his arm. The fact was, she wasn’t sure why he’d done it, and his kindness seemed the likeliest reason.

 

Perhaps he thought she was pretty. Many people had told her she was, and perhaps he liked talking about horses with her. He also seemed grateful that she had found the water hemlock in Sieger’s food. He’d said she saved his horse’s life. When he found out she was little more than a servant, however, he would realize his mistake in wearing her colors.

 

The voice in her head taunted, “Perhaps he is only grateful to you for saving his horse. He feels sorry for you because he saw how badly your stepmother and stepsisters treat you. He’s being kind to you out of gratitude … and pity.”

 

She wanted so much to believe that he had felt the same thing she felt when she was with him. His eyes softened when he looked at her. There was something in their interactions, a camaraderie that Gisela only felt with a few of her friends. But there was also an attraction, like a magnet drawing metal, creating a spark that she could feel in the air between them when he was near.

 

Cristyne was looking back and forth, from Valten out on the lists to Gisela beside her. “Ohhh,” she sighed. “I am sitting beside the lady-love of Valten, Lord Hamlin, the next Duke of Hagenheim.”

 

Gisela snorted — an unladylike sound — before she could stop herself. “He never called me his lady-love. I barely know him.”

 

“We shall see.” Cristyne winked.

 

Valten jousted with another young local who had been knighted only recently. In their first encounter, the other knight dropped his lance. Valten, in the spirit of chivalry, didn’t strike him, but held his lance aloft. In the second encounter, he missed Valten’s shield altogether, while Valten struck the young knight’s shield so solid a blow, he fell to the ground with a mighty crash.

 

The crowd cheered both Valten’s skill and his gallantry.

 

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