by Jocelyn Fox
Distantly Finn knew that this was the angriest he’d ever seen Knight Arian. He knew that he needed to save himself, answer quickly and soothe at least part of the Knight’s rage. But all he could manage was an uneven, “Sir…” And then his throat closed. His mind raced with thoughts of Ramel’s brush with death, Andraste’s hand in his healing, all that had passed unspoken between himself and the page and the crown princess. How could he put any of that into words? How could he choose between betraying his word to the princess and keeping his oath to his master?
Knight Arian struck him so hard across the face that Finn fell to one knee, blinking stars from his vision. Knights had every right to discipline their squires, but Knight Arian had never resorted to physical punishment. It was more the shame than the pain that took Finn’s breath away; the public venue – public, even though luckily no one seemed to be in the passageway to witness it – only adding to the shame that brought hot blood to his cheeks and only heightened the throbbing taking hold of his cheekbone.
“If you do not answer me, I will strike you again,” Knight Arian said in his deadly calm voice.
Finn stood and squared his shoulders, swallowing hard. Before he could answer another voice rang out. His heart simultaneously leapt and then sank.
“It was on my account that he was not at the tourney,” said Princess Andraste, gliding toward them with a lace favor in one long-fingered hand.
“My lady.” Knight Arian bowed and Finn forced his stunned body to imitate his master.
“I was walking back to my quarters to fetch a favor, and I saw one of the pages faint as he ran to the courtyard. I stopped to tend him and your squire was the first who passed by. I couldn’t very well carry the poor boy myself, so I asked Finnead to carry the boy back to the barracks.” Princess Andraste looked at Knight Arian earnestly and lowered her voice. “My sister would not approve of my intervention, and so I asked him not to speak of it.”
“I see, my lady.” Knight Arian bowed again stiffly.
“Did I miss your bout, Knight…?” The princess made her question sweet.
“Knight Arian, my lady. Yes. I sparred with Knight Baloran and lost.”
“Well, I shall speak to my sister about a second bout for you, Knight Arian, if you would like,” said Princess Andraste smoothly.
Knight Arian blinked, caught off guard. Finn fought to keep a smile from his face – aided by his throbbing cheek, which was already beginning to swell.
“I…if it would please you, my lady,” Knight Arian finally said.
“It would indeed,” said the princess with a graceful inclination of her head. “As it also pleases me for you to wear my favor in this second bout.” She stepped forward and delicately tucked the edge of her lace favor into the neckline of Knight Arian’s armor. Smiling warmly at him, she said, “I expect victory from my champion, Knight Arian.”
“I shall strive to honor you with victory, my lady,” said the Knight, bowing deeply. As Knight Arian was bowing, the princess looked at Finn, her luminous eyes dancing with mirth. Then her gaze traveled to his cheek where he’d been struck, and her expression darkened. But when Knight Arian straightened, her warm smile returned.
“I have another small favor to ask of your squire, Knight Arian, but I shall only keep him for a few moments,” said the princess with a conspiratorial air. She even went so far as to lay one hand for a brief instant on Knight Arian’s arm.
“As you wish, my lady,” said Knight Arian.
“I will attend you for this bout, sir,” said Finn as Knight Arian turned to reenter the courtyard.
“I should think so,” said Knight Arian gruffly. The Knight paused, glanced at his squire’s bruised face with a hint of what might have been regret, and then walked through the arched doorway to the courtyard.
Before Finn could even turn back to the princess, her cool slim hand touched his face. He froze.
“He shouldn’t have struck you,” said the princess, pressing her lips together.
“It was well within his rights,” said Finn, his heart beating faster at her feather-light probe of the bruise. The sensation of her smooth fingertips gliding over his skin overpowered any discomfort he might have ordinarily felt.
“Just because it is within someone’s rights does not mean it is right,” murmured Princess Andraste. Finn noticed, as if for the first time, that she was almost as tall as he was, standing only half a head shorter than him. She suddenly drew back her hand as if burned.
“I want to heal you,” she said softly, “but I can’t.”
“Knight Arian would notice,” agreed Finn.
They stood and looked at each other for a long, silent moment.
“You should go attend to your master,” Princess Andraste said finally, her voice almost a whisper.
“I should,” Finn murmured. Then he shook himself slightly and stepped back, putting more space between them. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me today, my lady. I won’t forget it.”
Her half-smile was like an arrow straight to his heart. “I should hope not.” And with that, she was gone in a whirl of pale blue silk and dark hair.
Finn dutifully entered the courtyard and found Knight Arian among the knights. He didn’t miss the swell of murmurs and a few envious glances that accompanied his master once the other knights realized that the elusive Crown Princess had bestowed her favor upon him, and prevailed upon the queen to allow him a second match. The tournament progressed at a breakneck pace, with only a moment between each match; pages scurried between the squires, sent on errands to fetch water, bandages, sharpening tools or spare pieces of gear from the armory. The Knights and Guards stood like pillars among the activity of the younger men, some of them readying for matches and others having their armor removed after a loss. A few apprentice healers stood near one of the far columns of the courtyard. The squires had been taught enough basic healing to tend to their masters in the immediate moment, and a Knight would also evaluate his own injury and instruct his squire on the best method of treatment.
Finn cleaned Knight Arian’s armor of dust and examined the shallow cut near his master’s hairline. It had already stopped bleeding, but Finn put a bit of salve and piece of soft cloth over it to protect it from chafing under the Knight’s helmet. Knight Arian didn’t speak to Finn at all during the preparations. His silence contrasted painfully against the normal discussion of strategy, gear and training that occurred when Finn attended his master before a bout. Finn’s cheek throbbed painfully every now and again, as though to remind him sharply of his failure. As the strange daze that had overtaken him in the princess’s presence faded, he felt more and more disappointed in himself. By the time he checked the straps on his master’s armor for the final time before the bout, he’d convinced himself that Knight Arian would most likely withdraw his squire’s name from the gauntlet and the Solstice tournament.
“You should put some salve on that bruise,” said Knight Arian finally as they waited for the match before his second bout to conclude. The clash of blades almost overpowered the Knight’s words.
“Yes, sir,” replied Finn dutifully, holding his master’s sword and shield.
On the balcony, Princess Andraste leaned toward her sister and pointed Knight Arian out to the Queen. Knight Arian bowed deeply and gracefully tugged the princess’s favor from his armor, holding it aloft for all to see and then gently sliding it beneath his breastplate again. It was customary for a Knight to wear his lady’s favor close to his heart. Finn felt an irrational prickle of jealousy that the scrap of lace from the princess pressed against his master’s chest, and not his. He shook his head slightly and resolved to better control these strange feelings that had suddenly manifested. He didn’t understand it. He’d been close to beautiful women throughout his time as a squire, and as Kieran had pointed out, certain ladies had made their attraction to him well known. But he’d never even given them anything but a casual thought, much less entertain any serious thought of breaking his squ
ire’s vow of celibacy. Not that he was thinking that way about the princess, he corrected himself hastily. He quickly steered his thoughts in a safer direction, focusing on the immediate task at hand as the match concluded and pages rushed out to sweep any debris from the ring. The tournament herald announced the next two Knights to enter the ring, with each bowing to Queen Mab and her gathered courtiers on the balcony above them. Finn handed Knight Arian his shield, waited for the Knight to settle it onto his arm, and then handed him his blade.
Knight Arian fought with more speed in that match than Finn had ever seen from his master. He stood two paces outside the ring with his hands resting at the small of his back, ready to spring into action should his master be injured or need any other assistance. But Knight Arian fought his opponent, a Guard recently returned from the White City, with such ferocity and skill that the match was one of the shortest of the tournament thus far. Though he was trying not to glance up at the balcony, once the match concluded, he didn’t miss Princess Andraste’s smile of satisfaction and the Queen congratulating her sister on choosing her champion well. From the luminous queen’s expressive face, Finn guessed that Queen Mab had told Andraste that Knight Arian wasn’t quite the champion that she would have chosen, since Knight Arian hadn’t particularly distinguished himself during his years of loyal service. And yet Princess Andraste had clearly inspired her champion to fight so peerlessly.
Finn took sword and shield from a triumphant Knight Arian. As the victor of that match, he would be entered into a match with another victor, until the tournament champion was crowned. To the unconcealed astonishment of the other Knights and Guards, Arian won his next match, and the match after that, and the match after that. Only two bouts remained to determine which of the final four Knights and Guards would compete for the laurels of the impromptu tournament.
Finn had sent one of the pages for food from the kitchens, and tried once more to convince Knight Arian to let him remove his armor for just a few moments of rest.
“Lad, I feel like a stronger fighter than I did even as a young Knight,” Arian replied, waving him away. And it was true: Knight Arian’s vitality fairly shimmered around him, his sword gleamed with its own light and it seemed that he moved so quickly in the ring that there was no time for dust to settle on his shining armor.
“At least drink some water, sir,” Finn insisted, holding up the water skin until the Knight grudgingly took it. Finn noticed a fever-bright shine to his master’s eyes. He frowned and then once again, like the tumblers in a lock falling into place as a key is turned, the thoughts in his mind aligned. He looked sharply up at the balcony. Somehow, he knew that Princess Andraste would be looking at him, and she was; their eyes locked, and as if she could read his mind, she raised one eyebrow, smiled, and nodded slightly.
So, it wasn’t just the honor of being chosen as the princess’s champion that propelled Knight Arian. Princess Andraste had laid some sort of enchantment into her favor. Finn’s jaw tightened. Knight Arian would be the laughingstock of the entire regiment of Knights and Guards if anyone found out that his spectacular performance had been the result of a spell contained in a little scrap of lace. His mind raced. He didn’t have any proof himself, other than the princess’s little nod and smile, and what he’d witnessed of her power in the passageway when she healed Ramel.
As the other match began, the Knights roared their support, with the Guards cheering for their fighter. Not all the matches were a Knight facing a Guard, but those generated the most boisterous good-natured cheers of rivalry. Finn’s mind continued to race despite the high-spirited maelstrom around him. Wouldn’t the Queen feel the existence of the enchantment…or did the Queen know and purposefully pretend ignorance to indulge her sister? Then he blinked. Who was to say there wasn’t always some sort of enchantment woven into the favors given by the Queen and her closest ladies? Most of them studied some form of sorcery, even if it was simple spells to change the color of their hair or make the wearing of a tight corset more bearable.
He couldn’t ask Knight Arian to remove the favor from his armor. That would be an insult to the princess. He really didn’t have any other choice than to keep his suspicions to himself, and hope that the spell didn’t have any adverse effects on his master. The Guards thundered their approval as the Guard in the match emerged victorious. The pages raced out with their willow-branch brooms to sweep the circle. Finn pushed aside his misgivings and focused instead on his task of supporting Knight Arian. With his sword gleaming in his hand and his shield settled on his arm, Knight Arian strode into the ring as the tournament herald announced his name. Knight Arian was well liked among his peers and the squires, and at this point, most had forgotten their earlier amazement at his excellent performance. They shouted their approval.
Kieran appeared at Finn’s elbow, using his size to his advantage to muscle through the press of pages and squires vying for a glimpse of the match.
“Knight Arian is certainly outpacing all expectations!” said Kieran in a low voice, grinning.
Finn mustered an answering smile. “Indeed.”
“No doubt the princess’s choice of him as her champion gave him some extra motivation, eh?” Kieran nudged Finn in the ribs. “When I had to serve him instead of you for that first match, and it didn’t go well, I thought he was going to use a cat o’ nine tails on you right there in the passageway. He might have said as much. But then you come in with naught but a bit of a bruise on your pretty face and he’s chosen as Princess Andraste’s champion, and given a second lease on life in the tournament at that!”
“Time enough for talk later,” Finn said firmly as the herald finished the introductions and the Queen acknowledged the two Knights in the ring. She raised one white hand, the Knights watching her intently, and when she flicked her wrist with a little nod, they raised their blades and leapt toward each other.
Despite the spell in the scrap of lace beneath his breastplate, Knight Arian finally found himself overmatched. He fought well, their swords a blur of silver as they attacked and countered at a speed that left the pages gaping and the squires nodding in admiration. After a series of staggeringly forceful blows that Arian blocked with his shield, the other Knight slid his blade through Arian’s guard and pressed the sharp tip to his neck just hard enough to draw blood. A spark of anger kindled in Finn’s chest as a dark drop of blood welled from Arian’s skin and slid down his neck – it was not courteous to draw blood in such a manner after the match was clearly won. If it had been two squires in training, and one drew blood after his victory was assured, he would most likely have been challenged by the training master himself and soundly beaten to prove the point that grace and restraint in victory was an important quality in a good Knight.
But Knight Arian only grinned until his opponent lowered his blade, and the two Knights clasped arms in a gesture of mutual respect.
“Well fought, my Knights,” said the Queen in her silvery voice. Her smile washed over them like the touch of winter sunlight, beautiful and just barely warm. The two Knights bowed and exited the ring. Finn began unbuckling Arian’s armor, Kieran silently standing behind him to accept the pieces that he removed from the Knight’s body.
“It would have been the best bout of the past decade if I’d made it to the final match,” said Knight Arian to his squire as Finn began working the buckles that held the Knight’s breastplate to his torso.
“Yes, sir,” replied Finn dutifully.
Knight Arian gave a quiet sigh and smiled ruefully. He tugged off his gauntlet and pulled Princess Andraste’s favor from his breastplate as the armor loosened. He held it in his bare hand for a moment, watching the delicate lace ripple in the slight breeze.
“I can only guess what you must think of me, lad,” said the Knight in a low voice. Around them, everyone was focused on the championship match.
Finn handed Knight Arian’s breastplate to Kieran, who took it with barely a glance as he watched the Knight and Guard battling for the hon
or of winning the Queen’s tournament.
“I think you are a good and fair master,” Finn replied carefully.
Knight Arian chuckled. “Perhaps not so good nor so fair as I ought to have been today. I know I was hard on you, Finnead. I have been spoiled these past years with you as my squire.”
Finn felt his face heat at the compliment from the Knight. “Sir, I know I did not perform to your expectations today, and I apologize.”
“No apologies, lad, from either of us,” said the Knight. “Because in the end, it all worked out.” He lowered his voice even further. “I know there was more to the princess’s story than she chose to put into words, just as you know that there was more to the princess’s favor than I chose to acknowledge.” He held out the favor to Finn. “She would have chosen you, if you were a Knight.”
Finn stared at the square of lace in his master’s hand. On closer inspection, the lace was patterned with dainty embroidery of pale green vines bearing deep blue flower buds.
“Take it,” said Knight Arian. “It’s not a snake, lad. It won’t bite you.”
Finn took the bit of cloth. His fingers tingled strangely as he folded it and tucked it into his belt pouch. He could feel Princess Andraste’s sharp gaze on him, as though she could sense the favor changing hands. He wondered suddenly if she had placed any other enchantments on the little piece of lace. But he forced himself to turn his attention back to Knight Arian.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, and he found that he meant it, even with his uncertainty.
The courtyard suddenly erupted in jubilation from the Knights. The Knight in the match had won.
“Did you see the way he reversed that last strike? Brilliant!” crowed Kieran, grabbing Finn’s arm.
Looking at his best friend’s face alight with the intoxication of triumph, Finn suddenly knew he’d never tell Kieran of the almost-future, in which Ramel died from the blow that Kieran had dealt that afternoon. He realized he didn’t know how much the page would remember. He’d need to go speak with him, though he did have an odd sense of faith in the page’s discretion despite his cheeky tongue.
