I sidestepped nearer and murmured, “What do you see?”
“What do you feel?” she replied.
Likely, the same thing. A link between that weapon and the ones she discovered in the camp, including the closer glimpse she took of Dame Muriel’s sickle.
An engraved fox. A blacksmith’s signature.
Seasons almighty. We veered toward one another.
“The villages,” we said in unison.
That explained the disguises. It also explained the power imbalance of farming tools as makeshift weapons versus army defenses.
The knights hadn’t plotted to ambush their own brethren. They intended to slaughter innocent villages throughout Autumn. To strike where it would torture Princess Briar and Queen Avalea the most. To pare down the citizenry at large.
Such raids would instill widespread fear and panic. Most especially, Rhys’s unit sought out hamlets with born souls living freely. It threatened to reverse the clan’s progress and influence the populace to scapegoat born souls for provoking havoc.
Of all the fucking diabolism. Even if the knights wielded stolen arms from the blacksmith, tradesfolk would not single out people carrying sickles and cleavers. They wouldn’t foresee a massacre. Neither would surviving witnesses be able to pinpoint their attackers to the Crown.
The only way to verify this required getting our hands on that shield. Ambition tightened Aspen’s features. While she might have lied for eons, I’d learned some honest things about her. Thus, I knew that scheming look.
My gaze whipped once more to the oval dirt track. Upon longer inspection, ropes and torches marked off the outer perimeter, three parallel lanes with their own central rails stretched across the divide, ale barrels stood near the border, and a host of cottagers waited along the perimeter.
Another fact had escaped me since hunting Aspen from the castle. The latest addition to these bonfire revels, a new event established by Poet and Briar, to be enjoyed in every corner of this kingdom.
Jousting tournaments.
44
Aire
“No,” I growled, swerving in front of Aspen. “Not a fucking chance.”
The woman glowered as if I was the stupidest knight alive. “I need a better look at that shield. We can’t steal it in front of seven hundred people. I’m good at prowling undetected but not that good—wait, listen!”
Snatching her elbow, I dragged Aspen from the crowd. Halting two dozen feet out of earshot, I released her arm. “If we need a closer look, then approach the blacksmith,” I festered. “There’s no cause to enter a tournament that could detach a limb from your body.”
Aspen gave me an incredulous stare. “So you’ve conveniently forgotten the rules of jousting.”
I paused. I’d been so riled up that I forgot. Autumn jousts maintained strict ceremonial regulations, including a critical one. Prizes were never touched or admired up close until the match was over and the winner had been declared. It preserved the purity of the exchange, with the reward passing from crafter to recipient.
While Aspen’s explosion destroyed the armory tent, we could not assume the knights wouldn’t assemble replacements and try again. If so, checking the shield’s engraving would either certify or contradict our suspicion about the ambushes. That would prepare us, in case the knights resumed their plan.
“I can win the shield,” I barked. “Need I say between the two of us, I’m the most qualified?”
“You’re the mostover-qualified,” Aspen emphasized in a harsh whisper. “If this were the castle, it would be easy to conceal your skills among fifty competitors. But here, with a fraction of the entrants, you’ll stand out. These people won’t last a second against the First Knight of Autumn. You’ll annihilate every opponent. Do you really think they won’t know the difference between an amateur and a warrior of the highest rank?”
“I’ve been a spy for as long as you have,” I spat. “Only I served the right side.” She flinched, but I trampled over that reaction. “In other words, I know how to temper my forsaken strikes.”
“Temper them too much, and you’ll lose,” Aspen contested. “I’ve been training with your troops for years. I’ve competed in jousting matches before.”
“During practice,” I hissed, my shadow devouring hers. “Not during the real thing, galloping at full speed while bearing the weight of a twelve-foot lance.”
“Care to bet on that?”
“No. I want to end this conversation.”
“You’re the conspicuous choice. I’m the believable one.” The infernal female counted off her fingers. “Do you recall our chat in the castle amphitheater? I’ve been hazed, tested, and mentored by the knights of Autumn. I can ride as well as you. I know how weapons function. I understand a lance’s strengths and weaknesses, including the imperceptible ones. And while I might not be ten feet tall or champion-level, I’m certainly tall enough, strong enough, and skilled enough to win. All without gaining unwanted attention.”
