Page 71 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

I don’t say anything about the tournament because I’m still not giving up on it completely. Even if Len says no, as long as everyone else is ready to fight, we still have a chance, right?

Len smiles. “Good girl. And that reminds me, tell your brother to come get these forms. We both need to sign them so he can fill them out next time he’s here.” He holds out several pieces of paper.

“Workers’ Compensation forms?” I read the title of the top form out loud. “Does Chris qualify for this?”

“Yep,” says Len. “I checked with HR and the hospital. Since Chris wasn’t drunk or under the influence of any substances, this is a Workers’ Comp case. They should pay for all his bills.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” I blurt out. And it is. Mom and Chris will be thrilled to know that the Castle will take care of the hospital bills.

“I thought it would be,” says Len. He smiles at me. Almost like he’s a nice guy. Or that he remembered all of a sudden that we’re related. “I’m not trying to punish you and Chris, Kit. I swear. I’ve just got to think of my own job too. Your little stunt on the news this week has all the Castle managers across the nation talking. Most of them are worried and trying to make sure similar rebellions don’t happen at their Castles. So, if we can just get everything back to normal, this should blow over, and my job—and yours and Chris’s and all the others you’re working with—will be fine.”

“You’re a prince, Len.” I make a face.

“Nope, a King. And your boss. Try to remember that as you’re shoveling poop tonight.”

“Ugh,” I mutter under my breath, as I push the door open to leave.

“What’s that, Kit?” he calls out as I leave.

“Nothing, Your Majesty,” I yell over my shoulder. “Absolutely nothing!”

As his door closes, I flip him off.

33

IT’S STILL HALF AN HOUR BEFORE OUR FIRST SHOW. I’M stuffing my backpack into my locker when Len’s voice comes over the loudspeaker.

“Attention, everyone,” he says. “This is your King speaking.”

I roll my eyes and slam the locker door.

“If I could have you all gather in the Upper Banquet Hall, I have an announcement to make. I know it’s nearly showtime, but this won’t take long. See you all up there in five minutes.”

A very bad feeling settles in my bones as I hear Len’s message. Perhaps I can intercept him or somehow lock him in his office? Does that even work in real life or just movies? Or maybe I can find Layla and everyone else and tell them the truth before Len does?

But there’s no time. And so I trudge with everyone else in the Castle into the Upper Banquet Hall. Dread coils in my belly like a rattlesnake about to strike.

The Upper Banquet Hall is usually reserved for Corporate training events, big private parties, or meetings. It’s huge, but there are over a hundred of us working tonight, and we’re practically elbow to elbow as we crowd into the room.

Wenches, Squires, Knights, the Falconer, the Fool, all the gift shop employees, cooks, and everyone else in between whisper to each other. Layla is waiting for me near the back of the room. I squeeze in beside her.

“Hey, friend,” she whispers.

This is going to be awful. I just know it. I try to layer all my apologies and good intentions and the reasons I lied into the hug I give Layla.

“What’s this all about?” asks Alex, slipping into the spot beside Layla and me. Jett waves at me from across the room. He’s still in street clothes and must be running late tonight.

“I have no idea,” I say. Though the sinking feeling in my stomach tells me it can’t be good.

“You okay?” Layla asks. She puts her finger under my chin and lifts it up. “You’re looking a little green.”

“Len demoted me to a lower stable hand,” I say through my teeth.

“WHAT?” says Mags. She and Lizzy have pushed their way through the crowd to join us.

“He can’t do that,” says Penny, standing beside us. She smells like bubblegum and cigarettes. “You can’t let him do that. What was his—”

Len’s voice interrupts her righteous indignation.