Page 11 of Lady's Knight
When the noise came again, she got out of bed and crept to the window, holding on to the knife she used for trimming her candles. After a breath, she flipped the latch and threw open the shutters.
A figure stood on the ground below, wearing a long, hooded cloak. As Gwen watched, a hand emerged from the cloak and pushed the hood down to display a wealth of long blond hair that gleamed like white gold in the moonlight.
Lady Isobelle beamed up at her and called in a carrying whisper-shout: “Climb down, lady, we’re going out!”
Gwen stood frozen, staring down atLady Isobelle—apparently the most eligible noblewoman in the entire county—standing under her window.
Isobelle waited patiently for a few heartbeats, as if used to eliciting this kind of paralyzing shock from the people she encountered. Then, raising her voice, she called, “Get dressed! Haven’t you ever snuck out before?”
“Hush, you’ll wake my father!” Gwen hissed back. She turned her head, listening for any sounds within the house. Her room was a loft over the main house, one of the few buildings in the village to have a second story, thanks to her father’s cleverness with engineering. “What... what are youdoinghere?Howare you here?”
The lady flashed her a positively impish smile. “I have my resources. I’m here to take you out, let’s go.”
Gwen felt her mouth open and then close again. She couldn’t even be curious about why Lady Isobelle had bothered to track her down in a village all this way from the castle—she was too busy being frantic to get rid of her before her neighbors noticed, before her father woke, before someone could see them together and somehow blame Gwen for absconding with a noblewoman in the middle of the night.
Isobelle’s smile shifted, the change so subtle Gwen would’ve missed it if the moon overhead weren’t half full and bright. “Fine, then,” she said airily. “If you won’t come out, why don’t you send downSir Gawain?”
Oh shit.
A familiar roaring rose in Gwen’s ears, only this time the rushof feeling wasn’t anger or fury. She could feel the blood draining from her face as fear finally unfroze her. She moved away from the window long enough to grab her dress from the foot of the bed and throw it on over her night shift. She tried to banish the million questions flooding her brain—How does she know? Has she told anyone? Are there guards waiting just out of sight to arrest me? Why on earth does she still look like a fairy-tale princess while sneaking out in the middle of the night?—and carefully swung a leg over the windowsill.
As soon as she began climbing down, a lance of pain shot up through her arm. Her shoulder was still aching from that first clash with Sir Evonwald. She hadn’t noticed it much on the ride home, but it had stiffened up as she lay in bed, and now... god, now it was agony. But if there was any chance of rolling back Isobelle’s revelation, convincing her that she didn’t know what she thought she knew, Gwen would have to pretend she was fine.
She made it to the ground and then whirled to face the other girl, pain and fear combining to create a pretty decent semblance of anger indeed. “You can’t be here!” she snapped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or why you’ve come, but you’ve got to let me get you home before someone sees us.”
“Oh, you don’t know, do you? Gwen, Gawain... it’s all really very clever, isn’t it?” The force of Lady Isobelle’s smile was like the heat radiating from an active forge—Gwen had to fight not to take a step back. “I’m here for Ladies’ Night. It’s Thor’s Day, they have Ladies’ Night every week at one of the taverns at the edge of town, and you’re coming with me.”
“Ladies’ Night,” Gwen echoed weakly.
“Or, you know, a lady knight.” Isobelle’s smile was decidedly smug. Gwen got the sense the other girl was used to getting her way,and that she was fighting a losing battle trying to resist.
“Look,” Gwen managed, “if you won’t come with me back to where you belong, I’ll fetch someone who’ll make you go.”
Isobelle bit her lip to smother a laugh. “If you’re going to threaten me,” she replied breezily, “I think you ought to do it over a drink while hearing me out. Come on, I’m buying.”
Gwen was experiencing the oddest sensation, as though she were no longer inside her own skin, watching the absurdity of this interaction from somewhere above and to the left of herself. She could see the blacksmith girl fighting and losing the battle, while the lady just stood there, totally at ease, waiting for her to capitulate.
“Five minutes,” Gwen said slowly. “Five minutes and then you go home, understood?”
The lady grinned at her. “Whatever you say, Sir Knight.”
Chapter Six
I’ll have a White Knight, please
Isobelle hadn’t been sure about what she’d seen at the tournament qualifiers—not until she’d seen Gwen respond to the name “Sir Gawain,” looking like she was going to throw up right out the window and ruin Isobelle’s shoes.
The question had been chasing itself in circles around her head all day, like a dog determined to catch its own tail.Could it be...? But no, it really seemed... But maybe?
It was impossible for a girl to ride in the qualifiers. Where would she get the armor? The horse? The training? Thenerve?
But perhaps, if she were a blacksmith... if she’d already proven to herself that a girl could do a man’s work, then...
Somehow, Isobelle had found herself here in the village Gwen had mentioned when introducing herself, wondering if the pressure of the tournament had finally caused her to crack.
But shehadn’tcracked. She wasn’t wrong. And if it was true—if Gwen really was Sir Gawain—then anything was possible.
The tavern was situated at the edge of the town clustered around Darkhaven Castle, and it had been a long walk from Gwen’s village. Isobelle had tried once or twice along the way to strike up conversation, but Gwen’s grim, thundercloud expression warned her not to push her luck before she’d made her case. It gave Isobelle timeto mentally work on her pitch, and she was so absorbed in the task, she nearly ran into Gwen’s back when the other girl halted.