but … wouldn’t any guy in Miles’s shoes have tried? Give the kid a break, was Roland’s gloss. Miles was all golden heart and very little badass.
Roland understood that the Nephilim kids were here out of pure goodwill. They had a soft spot for their friend Luce. And it was clear that Shelby and Miles had high hopes for romance at the Valentine’s Day Faire—for Luce and Daniel, and maybe even for themselves.
They probably don’t know that yet
, Roland thought, and grinned.
Mortals could rarely recognize their true feelings before those true feelings hit them in the face.
It happened this way for many couples who spent time basking in the glow of Daniel and Lucinda. Roland had witnessed it before. Daniel and Lucinda were emblems of romance, ideals that every mortal and some immortals needed to believe in, whether or not they themselves were capable of making a connection so true. Daniel and Lucinda were an idea that informed the way the rest of the world fell in love.
It was a powerful spell under which to find oneself.
Of course, Roland had to razz the Nephilim for stepping through into one of Lucinda’s medieval lives. They should be where they belonged, in their own time, where their actions wouldn’t cause any historic catastrophes.
So he’d chewed them out a little. It would keep them in line until he returned to escort them safely home. Traveling with them was the only way he could ensure that they wouldn’t wind up somewhere even farther away from Shoreline.
But first? He could indulge them. Track down Daniel and make sure he got his sullen self to the Valentine’s Faire. Giving Daniel and Luce a moment of happiness was no sweat off Roland’s back, and besides, it gave him something to do.
And in this particular era, Roland needed something to do.
To keep his mind off other things.
In the cold February gloom, Roland rode past a glebe, where serf-tended crops padded the pockets of the local clergymen. He rode past a Gothic church, with its pointed arches and thorny spires.
God’s house
. He couldn’t stop the thought from entering his mind. It had been a long time since he’d been in one of those. He crossed a high bridge over the swollen, muddy river, and turned his horse toward the knights’ stronghold he knew was about a half day’s ride to the north.
It was not a pleasant journey: rough road and ugly weather. Blackie kicked up high splashes of mud, painting her flanks a dingy gray-brown. And the cold caused the hinges of Roland’s armor to stiffen into near-immobility.
Still, in most ways, there was something sweet in returning to this past. A romantic like Daniel might say chivalry had never really died, but then, Daniel had a complicated relationship with both love and death. Roland had lived among this early brand of chivalry for years. It was nearly over now in the Middle Ages, and it was certainly dead in the present tense Roland had just traveled from. There was no question in his mind.
But once upon a time …
For the briefest moment he remembered a glimmer of golden hair streaming in the wind.
He flipped up the visor of his helmet and gasped forair. He would not think of her. That was not why he was here.
He nudged Blackie forward and shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
Roland was less than a mile from the band of knights he was seeking. He scanned the horizon: the sweeping dip of vales to the east, a rainstorm behind him and to the west. Ahead, the road wound up and around through twists of hills that formed a protective barrier for the city. Also ahead stood a castle that he intended to avoid. He would ride a wide berth around it. And on the other side of that castle was the road—if it was still in passable condition—that would lead him straight to the Daniel of this era. And to his own medieval self.
In his long-ago memory of this era, he remembered how the strangely clad knight had appeared before them, bearing orders from the king.
The knight had
Roland understood that the Nephilim kids were here out of pure goodwill. They had a soft spot for their friend Luce. And it was clear that Shelby and Miles had high hopes for romance at the Valentine’s Day Faire—for Luce and Daniel, and maybe even for themselves.
They probably don’t know that yet
, Roland thought, and grinned.
Mortals could rarely recognize their true feelings before those true feelings hit them in the face.
It happened this way for many couples who spent time basking in the glow of Daniel and Lucinda. Roland had witnessed it before. Daniel and Lucinda were emblems of romance, ideals that every mortal and some immortals needed to believe in, whether or not they themselves were capable of making a connection so true. Daniel and Lucinda were an idea that informed the way the rest of the world fell in love.
It was a powerful spell under which to find oneself.
Of course, Roland had to razz the Nephilim for stepping through into one of Lucinda’s medieval lives. They should be where they belonged, in their own time, where their actions wouldn’t cause any historic catastrophes.
So he’d chewed them out a little. It would keep them in line until he returned to escort them safely home. Traveling with them was the only way he could ensure that they wouldn’t wind up somewhere even farther away from Shoreline.
But first? He could indulge them. Track down Daniel and make sure he got his sullen self to the Valentine’s Faire. Giving Daniel and Luce a moment of happiness was no sweat off Roland’s back, and besides, it gave him something to do.
And in this particular era, Roland needed something to do.
To keep his mind off other things.
In the cold February gloom, Roland rode past a glebe, where serf-tended crops padded the pockets of the local clergymen. He rode past a Gothic church, with its pointed arches and thorny spires.
God’s house
. He couldn’t stop the thought from entering his mind. It had been a long time since he’d been in one of those. He crossed a high bridge over the swollen, muddy river, and turned his horse toward the knights’ stronghold he knew was about a half day’s ride to the north.
It was not a pleasant journey: rough road and ugly weather. Blackie kicked up high splashes of mud, painting her flanks a dingy gray-brown. And the cold caused the hinges of Roland’s armor to stiffen into near-immobility.
Still, in most ways, there was something sweet in returning to this past. A romantic like Daniel might say chivalry had never really died, but then, Daniel had a complicated relationship with both love and death. Roland had lived among this early brand of chivalry for years. It was nearly over now in the Middle Ages, and it was certainly dead in the present tense Roland had just traveled from. There was no question in his mind.
But once upon a time …
For the briefest moment he remembered a glimmer of golden hair streaming in the wind.
He flipped up the visor of his helmet and gasped forair. He would not think of her. That was not why he was here.
He nudged Blackie forward and shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
Roland was less than a mile from the band of knights he was seeking. He scanned the horizon: the sweeping dip of vales to the east, a rainstorm behind him and to the west. Ahead, the road wound up and around through twists of hills that formed a protective barrier for the city. Also ahead stood a castle that he intended to avoid. He would ride a wide berth around it. And on the other side of that castle was the road—if it was still in passable condition—that would lead him straight to the Daniel of this era. And to his own medieval self.
In his long-ago memory of this era, he remembered how the strangely clad knight had appeared before them, bearing orders from the king.
The knight had
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