“Céline neither hands out favors, nor attends jousts,” Isobelle broke in smoothly and firmly. “The violence is too much for her delicate constitution.”
Gwen burst into a round of coughing and wished she had some food or drink in her hand on which to blame the sudden fit.
“She is more civilized than the rest of us,” Isobelle went on, raising her voice over the spluttering. “If only I could beg off, too. But I have to put on a smile and sit front and center through the whole thing.”
Gwen, managing to get herself under control again, glanced askance at Isobelle. “Maybe you’ll enjoy it this year,” she murmured. “I may not care to watch my brother in the lists, but he has a rather unique style of combat. He may surprise you.”
“I look forward to marrying him, then,” Isobelle said wryly. On another night, it would be one of Isobelle’s flighty flirtations. Justnow, Gwen could hear the edge in her voice.
Sir Ralph had rattled her. Because even if it wasn’t him, and wasn’t now, it would besomeoneeventually. Even the best-case scenario in their deception would not spare Isobelle forever.
It was one of those rare moments when Isobelle seemed fully aware that her wild plan to enlist her own champion was full of holes.
Gwen curled her fingertips into the blanket beneath her hand. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said slowly, “but the tradition states that the winner of the tournament may ask for the hand of the dragon sacrifice.May, not must.” Isobelle’s gaze swung over to meet Gwen’s. “Perhaps he will surprise you there, too. Maybe if he won, he would ask you whatyouwanted.”
Isobelle’s smile was wistful, as if she were regarding something lovely, but very far away. “If any knight ever thought to ask that, then I would surely wish to say yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
No lady went in search of the privy alone when she could bring a friend
As the speeches continued, covering the many fine qualities of men past and present, Isobelle let her mind drift. She carefully steered it away from the tangled maze of knights who asked her what she wanted, and knights who didn’t, and contemplated instead whether it was worth taking another turn around the stalls, to see if there were any sweets the girls had missed.
She was going to think about dessert, and nothing else.
“Are they doing some sort of play to commemorate the occasion?” Gwen asked, her voice summoning Isobelle back from her daydreams. A ripple of agitation was spreading outward from the base of the hill as a ragged group of women pushed their way toward the speechmakers.
“If it is a play, the lighting leaves something to be desired,” Jane murmured, squinting.
“Please!” The rough cry came from one of the new arrivals. “Let me through! I must speak with Lord Whimsitt! We seek protection!” The woman broke past those trying to hold her back, dodging her way up the hill toward the dignitaries. “It is yourdutyto protect us!”
Every line of the woman’s body spoke of desperation, her clothesragged, her face filthy. With a well-placed kick that made one of the castle guards double over, she sprinted toward Lord Whimsitt, her hair streaming free from its braids.
“This is the dragon bonfire—we seek your aid!” she screamed as another pair of guards grabbed her, pulling her away from his lordship. “If you won’t help us, then at least know you were warned—the dragons are alive. Remember us when they come for you, too.”
A gasp spread through the crowd like wildfire, and Jane tilted her head like a spaniel. “Isobelle,isthis meant to be a reenactment?”
“It is a little violent for a play,” Hilde chimed in as the woman kicked at the guards again, her companions downhill fighting for their own freedom. “Though excellent dramatic timing, and I do not mind the interruption to the speeches.”
“She doesn’t look like she’s acting to me,” Gwen said slowly.
“I don’t think she is,” Isobelle replied, a feeling like a stone inside her chest. “I think she believes it. Poor thing. The bonfires must have set her off. I wish they’d let go of her friends so they could come and fetch her. Someone should be taking care of her. She needs a hedge witch.”
All around them, debates were breaking out about whether the woman was a paid actor, but their little rug was an island of quiet. They watched as the woman and her companions were corralled away by the guard, and as one, the girls winced as a cry of pain arose from one who struggled too hard.
After a hesitant glance at Lord Whimsitt, the herald climbed up onto the stage once more. “And now,” he shouted, “a word from our sponsor, Freya’s Fashion Emporium, featuring the brightest designs from the continent!”
Gwen reached across to take Isobelle’s cup and refill it, andwhen their eyes met, she tilted her head toward the shadows to indicate a desire to speak privately.
“Do excuse me, ladies,” Isobelle said, popping up to her feet like the sparkly little cat that sprang out of her clock on the hour. “Nature calls.” She held out her hand to Gwen—everybody knew that no lady went in search of the privy alone when she could bring a friend—and Gwen rose to her feet with barely a hint of pressure on her fingers, as though she’d been fighting the urge to stand.
As soon as Gwen reached the shadows, her steps lengthened, and Isobelle muttered imprecations against her impractical shoes as she skipped along to keep up.
“Gw—Céline,” she hissed, as they made their way past the picnickers who’d chosen more remote spots, half hidden by darkness, ignoring their meals in favor of each other. “I think the people here might like some privacy!”
She kept her eyes firmly on the other girl’s back, feeling her cheeks heat and fighting the urge to take an educational peek at what they were passing. It was one thing to drink tea and practice, but a girl needed practical information at some point.
Gwen pulled her in near the trunk of an oak tree, her green eyes flashing with a hint of bonfire light as she turned back toward her. For one dizzying heartbeat, Isobelle’s imagination provided her with a startling image—she saw herself step in closer to Gwen, letting the momentum of that tug on her hand bring them together. She saw herself lean in, and tilt her face toward Gwen’s, and...
