Page 85 of The Life and (Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly

I snort. “You don’t get to use Gandalf quotes to boss me around.”

“Even the wise cannot see all ends.” Chris nods sagely.

“Stop! You’re not even doing a good imitation.”

He throws a pillow at me. “I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!”

I roll my eyes and sit up. “Fine. Fine! I’m going.”

“Fly, you fool!”

Laughing, I haul myself to my feet. Before I can leave the living room, there’s a knock at the front door. I shoot Chris a look, but he just shrugs.

“Coming,” I holler as I pound down the steps to the front door. I fling it open and my jaw drops.

Jett stands there, holding a shopping bag and a cup of coffee. He’s in his work clothes, with his leather jacket over them.

Suddenly, I’m aware I’m wearing a ratty pair of leggings and a tight “A Girl Has No Name” Game of Thrones T-shirt with a coffee stain on it. My hair is in two messy braids, and I can’t guarantee I don’t have lettuce in my teeth from lunch.

“What’re you doing here?”

Jett smiles his easy, familiar smile. It’s like coming home to see it. “I brought you coffee. And a Silver Knight’s costume rushed direct from Amazon. I figured you needed your own color, since you’re redefining things at the Castle.”

“Wonderful man.” I take the coffee with one hand, longing to put the other hand on his cheek.

“That’s not all.” He grabs my hand. “C’mon. I’m giving you a ride to work.”

“But I have to change,” I say, gesturing at my leggings and T-shirt.

“Nope,” says Chris, hobbling down the stairs behind me. Somehow he has my purse and phone in his hand. “You’re good like that.”

He and Jett smile at each other. I narrow my eyes at them both.

“What’s going on here? Are you two conspiring against me?”

“Conspiring for you would be more accurate,” says Jett. “Let’s go.”

“No clues? No hints?”

“Nope,” says Chris. “Just get in the van, and you’ll see.”

“It’s never good when someone tells you to get into a van.” I side eye them both.

“Trust us, it’s a good thing,” says Jett with a laugh as he helps Chris into the passenger seat.

I’m not convinced, but I take my stuff from Chris and clamber into the back of the minivan. Taking a long swig of my coffee (vanilla latte with almond milk, bless you, Jett), I try to steel myself for whatever they have planned.

JETT AND CHRIS LEAD ME INTO THE CASTLE, BUT WE SKIP the break room and our usual haunts. It’s still early enough that most of the hallways are empty. Soon, it will be full of the hum and roar of the crowd, but for now the only sounds that fill the halls are horses whinnying and some pre-cooking clatter from the kitchen.

I check my phone. “We’re like an hour early,” I say. “Did you mess with my alarm, Chris?”

“Maybe?” he says, limping along beside me. He shrugs and throws another Gandalf quote my way: “A wizard is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”

Jett snickers beside me and bumps my shoulder with his. It seems we’re back to casual BFF contact and there’s no lingering weirdness from me trying to kiss him two days ago. At least that’s how it feels to me. Who even knows what Jett’s feeling when it comes to all that?

“What’s going on?” I ask as Jett pushes the door of the Upper Banquet Hall open. Chris limps in before me, and I follow him.

The room is empty except for a round banquet table covered with a white tablecloth. Seven chairs sit around it. In front of the table is a projection screen.