FOREVER KNIGHTS: #4 Battling Black Roses

“Accosting?” Worthington feigned appall. “It’s a compliment to you, I speak to you at all!”

Nora pulled the shawl over her head, trying to cover her ears to continue her walk. “It’s your family’s money they want.” She focused on the road ahead.

Aptly put.

She’s dismissed them like the annoying hounds they are.

“Are you daft?” Worthington attacked. “Your mother died, and your father drank himself to death. You’re so pathetic no one notices you, except when I show interest.”

Deragan gripped the corner of the fence. Fingertips biting into the wood in round indentations as he fought to control the heat swirling through him. A snarl rumbled up from his throat. But fortunately, no one was close enough to hear. His knuckles turned white and the wooden corner began to splinter. He’s crossing the line.

“Oh, thank ye so much, Master.” She giggled ridiculously and curtsied repeatedly before straightening. Her tone flattened instantly. “The only thing you’re interested in, Worthington, is the fact that I’m one of the few ladies unimpressed by you.”

“The only.” He corrected quickly.

I’d doubt that.

Nora apparently thought the same. She looked at him askance.

Someone shouting from behind Worthington’s carriage, caught their attention. Profanity poured from the driver’s seat as the Bishop carriage drew up. Nora didn’t look.

She knows their voices.

Good boys.

“Leave our sister alone! Have you not the faintest training on how to speak to a Lady.” William was loud enough shutters moved on houses across the street.

Nora cringed.

“You don’t deserve a moment of her time!” Marcus added.

As I’d have loved to say! Thank you, young Marcus.

“Nora, get in the coach.” Marcus hopped down from the carriage and opened the door for her. “These roustabouts can find some other miss to accost.”

Tired of reminding them she was older than they, she tossed her bag on the seat and threw back her shawl.

“Did you see the look on his face?” Marcus asked his brother from the driver’s bench.

“Worthington is a jackanape.” William grumbled.

“I wish he’d given up last year.” Nora agreed.

“When he graduated.” Marcus contributed. “Why didn’t he leave?”

“He’s always at the tutelage.” William commented. “Following Nora.”

“He’s the tutelage benefactor now.” She sighed on the explanation. “The model of a Grier citizen. They welcome him.”

“At least Attendant Withers, no doubt.” Marcus grumbled.

“They won’t disrespect him by asking him to leave.” Nora sighed.

“Of course not, he’s a Worthington.” William said spitefully.

They arrived at the Grier Tutelage.

Nora stared up at the familiar towering walls which formed a semi-circle around a great gray statue in the middle of the circular drive. The Tutelage was several floors high separated by stairs which wound down to each level on both ends of the building. Great windows crossing every room in perfect symmetry down the side of the building. Going up in straight lines of windows, brightening the inside.

But more keenly, displaying Grier's rare ability to make the precious glass that so many of Ardae's countries could not. Either due to cost or the delicate balance of heat and cold required to maintain the assembling.

Together, they pushed open the dark wooden doors to enter the lobby. Finding it abandoned, students in classes rather than sitting to socialize.

“Bye Nora.” Marcus veered down an echoing wooden corridor to the right.

“Good luck with Ms. Lake.” William turned left.

Nora’s step drug up the steps. Her eyes lingering on where he’d gone, as she chewed her cheek. She reached into her leather bag and removed the book.

Her book. He stood aside one of the lower windows to peer in.

Juggling it in her arms she caressed her hand lovingly over the cover before flipping to study the engraved back cover. Designed leather.

No inscription. He knew every inch of that book.

Adjusting its weight to open the cover she found the pages handwritten. Its rare beauty captivating.

She scanned the hall and cringed when she spotted a curly haired brunette girl. Nora dodged her. Shoving her leather pack in the wooden cubby in the hall, marked with her name. She covertly scanned the hall before retreating back downstairs.

Deragan padded over to skim the cubby the curly haired girl had stocked her things in.

Miss Brandie Worthington. Worthington’s sister? He presumed

No wonder Nora dislikes her.

He saw a cubby nearby marked as Mr. Ronald Turner. Deragan emitted a low growl before taking the stairs.