“Well,” his voice hummed, “that might be impossible, as there is, in fact, a battle going on.”
“There is?” I brushed leaves off my stockings and shoved my feet back into the lace-up boots.
“I was checking the perimeter when I saw a flash of white. A light hart, I thought, only—”
“Okay,” I cut him off—what he saw was my milky-pale skin.
Dressed now, I let my eyes linger on the man. He was my height but might have been a farmer before he was conscripted to war. I could tell cords of muscle lay beneath his shirt and those thighs were nice and thick. I was never so open with my gaze in real life. Even now, I felt myself blush. But if part of my purpose was to grow more accustomed with—
I took a breath.
No,I told myself,eyes on the prize. Ironclaw.If I could figure out who was fighting who, that would tell me where I was and, just as importantly,whenI was. From there, I could deduce where Ironclaw was most likely to be.
“Take me to the battle.”
“My good woman...” The man seemed uncertain as to how to address me, still staring pointedly at the tracks. “Are you a woman knight?”
That was as good an in as any. “Yes. Take me to your liege lord. I wish to offer my services.” I had never been in theater, but I was starting to enjoy myself. After all, this was exactly like the little show I played before my eyes as I fell asleep, except it felt real. So real.
“You may look,” I said.
He looked up. I saw his mouth twitch under his dense black beard, his eyes skeptical. “Where is your horse? Or your armor? You’re hardly ready for battle.”
I patted the dagger I had just tied to my hip. I had purchased a few decorative fantasy knives online and had a passing feel for them. I’d be fine. “All I need is—” I floundered for a name, “—Madame Morningstar here, sharpest of the bright.”Shit, I have to step up my banter.“I’m on a quest to find Ironclaw.”
The man looked at me strangely, shadows under his eyes, and for the first time, I realized the sun was setting. “You’ll not find Sir Ironclaw here, Lady Knight.”
Lady Knight. I liked that.
“Well then, what is your cause? Mayhap I can help you win your battle before nightfall.” I was quite impressing myself.
“You wish to help us?” He ran a hand over his face. He looked exhausted at the idea.
“Why not?”
He muttered something that sounded like, “Why indeed?” but led on through the trees. I checked the ground once more to make sure I left nothing behind, and took several large steps to catch up.
“How did you get on the Mock Pass? We have a battalion at both ends.”
I shrugged. “I cut through the forest. What’s your name?”
“Jerrald.” His voice was nice.
“Were you a farmer before all this?”
He looked at me with concern. “No,” he said shortly.
“You didn’t”—I gestured generally at him—“work on an estate, growing...wheat? Lifting bales?”
Jerrald shook his head. “No, Lady Knight.”
“Oh.”
As the trees widened from each other, so grew the sound of metal against metal. Jerrald nodded at me to crouch-walk through the long grasses like him. I slipped my dagger out and followed.
The meadow in front of us was filled with perhaps a hundred soldiers, a dozen on horseback. Patches of grass had been trampled. I had no idea how they could tell who was who. To me, it seemed everyone hacked away indiscriminately at their nearest neighbor.
“For Lionsgate!” rang across the grounds.
