May the saints help me. I was about to make a fool of myself and pretend to enjoy it.
The morning was already warm,sunlight glinting off the knights’ armor as Aalis linked her arm through mine and pulled me toward the tournament grounds. Ropes marked off the spectator areas and horses stamped and snorted as competitors adjusted their gear.
Minstrels strolled through the crowd. If one passed a couple, he would strum a love song and give them an exaggerated wink. When entertaining larger groups, the ballads were jaunty and comical, full of clever rhymes that made people clap along or groan loudly at the worst lines.
Heads turned as Aalis and I passed, and I hated the feeling that everyone was watching me. It would be so much more comfortable to slip into the shadows.
“Smile,” Aalis hissed. “You look like you’re about to kill someone. Remember, the goal today is to be asked to accompany someone to the dance tonight.”
I wanted to grumble a response, but instead did as she instructed and I forced the corners of my mouth upward. If this was what maintaining my undercover identity entailed, I needed to play it well.
“There!” Aalis said, clutching at me. “He’s coming!”
Conrad the stable boy approached with a rangy stride that reminded me of deer in the forest. He was sandy-haired, freckled, and had a good-natured air about him.
“Hello, Conrad,” Aalis said sweetly. “It’s a beautiful day!”
“It is,” agreed Conrad, then he and Aalis both took a great deal of time to study their shoes. I looked from one to the other. For supposedly being madly in love with each other, they certainly weren’t showing it.
“Are you going to the dance tonight, Conrad?” I asked loudly. He jumped and looked puzzled, as though he couldn’t figure out if I had spoken, or Aalis.
“Erm, yes. Yes, I am.” Conrad’s voice was a little raspy. “You?”
“Aalis wants to,” I said, and Aalis’s face grew so red that I wondered if she was about to erupt into flames, then I looked at Conrad and realized I could barely see his freckles anymore from how flushed he’d become.
“This is my friend Isabella,” Aalis finally choked out. “Isabella, I think you know Conrad?”
“Not really. But it is nice to meet you.” I smiled at him, but he avoided my gaze as he held out his hand. His handshake felt like a limp fish. Why Aalis was head over heels in love with this boy, I couldn’t tell.
I turned. “Aalis, I need to go see Agnes and ask about my shift tomorrow. It will only take a minute. I’ll find you later, okay?”
“Okay.” Aalis smiled her appreciation and turned back to Conrad to stumble through a bit more conversation.
As I wandered, I could feel the weight of stares coming my way and more than once, I was sure someone would leap out and announce that I was here illegally. Everyone from farmers to nobility were here—why should anyone recognize me or care that I was in attendance? Anyone coming to watch the tournament would be here for entertainment, not to scrutinize others. But even though I reassured myself constantly, I could still feel the blood pounding in my veins. If only I could wrapmyself into a cloak and slide into the shadows of a shady tavern, that would be much more comfortable than being here.
Over at a long table groaning under pitchers of drinks, Agnes was pouring water into mugs as quickly as she could, but not fast enough to keep up with the swarm of people already picking up drinks.
Without waiting for her to ask me to help, I picked up a pitcher and began working beside her.
“Miss, you don’t need to—” Agnes broke off as she turned to squint at me. Flour dusted one side of her cheek, and her sleeves were pushed to her elbows as she worked. “Isabella, is that you? Why, I barely recognized you!”
“I barely recognize myself.” I smoothed a hand down the front of my dress, still not entirely used to the fine fabric beneath my fingers. “Aalis helped me get ready.”
“Well, you look lovely, dearie!” Agnes nodded toward the rows of mugs lined up on the table. “Pass these out, would you? Just grab a few and find anyone that looks important and hand them out. We can’t have any of the nobility feeling slighted.”
I picked up several mugs, careful not to spill any down the front of my dress and stepped back into the noise of the tournament grounds. The air smelled of trampled grass, roasting meat, damp earth, and too many people pressed too closely together. Somewhere nearby, a horse let out a whinny, and beyond the ropes, squires hurried across the field with lances and shields.
Chairs had been arranged in the spectator area for royalty and their guests, and they were beginning to fill. Rich silks and embroidered fabric hung on the benches and jeweled rings flashed whenever someone lifted a hand. I headed that direction with my tray of drinks and tried to look as though I had every right to be there.
Most fortunately, no one stopped me.
I handed out mug after mug. Most of the nobility accepted drinks without even glancing up to see who was offering it, and it occurred to me how very easy it would be to poison a cup. Most of those I served went straight back to their conversations without a word to me, though a few ladies complained that the drinks were too warm.
A trumpet blast cut through the hum of voices, and most people turned. The announcer climbed onto the raised platform near the center of the field and lifted one hand. The crowd gradually quieted, though it took several more blasts before the last conversations died down.
“Honored guests,” the announcer called, his voice carrying over the field, “we welcome you to today’s tournament, and to Prince John, we all thank you for the wonderful tournament you’re hosting.”
A cheer went up as Prince John stood and raised his hand to the crowd.
