Page 14 of Yearning Difficulties

‘I can’t believe I get to lance you,’ Dave said as he and Killian trotted into position.

‘Yes,’ Killian replied. He rounded on Dad. ‘You know, Seth, in many other parts of the world – unions would get involved over the lack of experience being put on display here.’

It was said jokingly but I had to concur. Dad merely laughed. ‘All of this is character-building, young squires. And medics are on standby.’

They both rode into their starting positions, and on Marcia’s signal, they practised their first official ‘lancing’. The horses didn’t exactly gallop, and the lack of a baying crowd made the whole thing rather stiff but the landed blow was quite impressive. The lance broke in two and Killian obediently pretended to be defeated, albeit with a massive eye roll.

‘Fine,’ Marcia said, almost sounding bored. ‘Good. Now, White Knight. You need to claim the princess.’

‘That’s me,’ I said quietly, smoothing the skirts of my velvet dress and standing up straight. ‘What do you need me to do?’

Marcia gave me a sardonic look. ‘Try and act like a damsel in distress.’

I grimaced. ‘Which looks like what, exactly?’

‘Pretend you’re in love.’

I silently thanked Jasper for doing this ridiculous job for so many years and pretended to swoon, as Dave compliantly rode up alongside me. I neatly jumped onto the back of his horse and wrapped my arms around his middle, which was enormously uncomfortable due to our shared history, but thankfully, he said nothing. We did a lap of the tournament arena and a few of the other volunteers clapped meekly.

‘And the crowd went mild,’ said Dave dryly, causing me to smile in spite of myself.

‘It’ll be all right on the night,’ I assured him.

I caught Killian scowling at us. Maybe Thunder had pissed him off already.

At home, post-rehearsal, I showered and ran some product through my hair. Then I called Ma into my tiny bedroom.

‘Which lotion do you think Dr Bergery, renowned academic and potential gatekeeper to my future, will like best?’ I asked her.

Ma laughed and instantly pointed to the pale blue tub of white cream. ‘The coconut. She loved the coconut conditioner I used on her in the salon.’

‘Amazing! You’re the best,’ I said, sitting on my study chair to rub the lotion into every visible inch of my body. ‘It’s weird, the information that hairdressers carry around.’

Ma smiled. ‘Which dress?’

I stared at my humble rack of clothes by the window. ‘The red?’

‘It’s a bold colour, darling. Maybe too bold.’

‘The black?’

‘You’re too young to wear black.’

‘I’m eighteen, Ma.’

‘I know,’ she said, pouting, ‘but still a baby to me. And babies shouldn’t wear black.’

‘The green?’

‘Perfect!’

I slipped into the green silk and applied some plumping gloss. Ma stood behind me as I primped in the mirror, slipping her arms around my middle.

‘What?’ I asked bluntly.

‘I know it’s important to look your best. I’m a stylist, I say that more than anyone. But . . . make sure she sees how incredibly beautiful you actually are, Zee.’

‘Ma,’ I said, sighing, ‘I need her to like me. So I can’t . . . you know . . . be myself too much.’