Page 3

I shot to my feet, tripping over the chair as my long skirt hampered my escape. I bit back a startled yelp as the man caught me, his hands gripping my elbows. Not a man, a boy, I realized. He couldn’t have been much older than me.

I looked up at him, gaping like a fool.

He was so handsome. His black wavy hair fell to his jaw, and his brown skin and eyes had an undertone that reminded me of damp earth. He must have been of high rank, because he wore jewelry—his earrings were dangling black crosses, with a thin chain that attached from his lobe to the upper helix of his ear. A matching chain necklace looped once close to his throat, the second longer loop peeking from his collar at the sides of his neck, along with a cross hanging from a chain at his belt. The sword at his hip was simple, but I recognized the signature handle’s craftmanship of Sir Wallis, the greatest smith in all of Britain. The blade would be made of rare steel, I knew. Unbreakable. Heavy. Deadly.

I felt the beginnings of a blush, only the heat of it, and tried my best to tamp it down. But how strong this boy must be, to wield such a weapon. And Sir Wallis didn’t craft weapons for just anyone, even if you did possess the riches to afford it. Wallis was selective … and he’d selected this boy. How heroic he must be. Like the legendary heroes from fairy tales.

But I shoved my awe aside to focus on my present predicament. Everyone knew the king was not prejudiced when it came to hiring within his service, but it was relieving to see with my own eyes that someone of this boy’s complexion would be elevated, put in charge of such an important task—to select the Royal Knight who would work alongside the immortal king until the day she died. But his gaze was severe, as if those beautiful brown eyes had never shown warmth and were unaccustomed to kindness.

That was, unfortunately, a little less soothing.

“Are you quite well, my lady?” he asked, though I couldn’t tell if his tone was concerned for my health or my sanity.

I heard laughter break out across the room. As if the situation couldn’t have been any more embarrassing.

“Yes.” I felt myself blushing again, keenly aware of the boy’s warm hands still holding me steady. “Forgive me, sir. Yes.”

He released his hold as I took a few steps back. “Your call interfered with the last audition.”

I raised my brows. “I wasn’t the only one making noise out here.”

“Yes, well, your voice is … resonant,” he said.

Loud, he meant.

Obnoxious, his miserable expression implied.

My heart dropped. He had been in a sour mood long before I’d foolishly started my birdsongs, but that didn’t change the fact I’d just limited my chances of ever being selected. Still, I stood tall, steeling my gaze. “If a knight can’t work her magic through a little distraction, she can’t be much good at her job, can she?”

The boy glared at me as I spoke, and continued to do so as the offended knights protested, said something or other to insult me. He had the look of a hateful mercenary, one that could make even the fiercest warrior crumble. It was a look that studied and assessed while being fully prepared to kill if need be. I had never seen someone look at a knight in such a way, as if meaning to intimidate. And yet as I returned his glare, something shifted in his eyes, a realization—at least I thought it might be—but he diverted his gaze from mine far too quickly for me to be sure.

He held his arm out, gesturing toward the open doorway. “My lady, will you enter the audition room?”

“O-oh—” I hesitated, looking at the number in my hand, even though my mind knew he hadn’t gotten close to it. “But you haven’t called my—”

He snatched the scrap of paper from me, and I gaped as he crumpled it in his hand and tossed it aside carelessly. “Enter the room,” he said, adding, “Please,” after a breath of a moment. As if his cold attempt at politeness made him seem any friendlier.

I walked toward the open door without questioning what this all meant.

The murmurs around me were shocked.

He’s auditioning her after that?

Of course not. He’s throwing her out.

He skipped over so many numbers.

He’s getting her out of the way. She’s a nuisance.

How irritating.

He’s angry. He’ll get rid of her quickly, mark my words.

Who even is she? She doesn’t belong here.…

No one would make room for me, so I pushed my way through, forcing myself not to look at the other knights. The ones I bumped into fussed, as if they themselves weren’t creating the reason for the disturbance in the first place. I should have let the boy go first. When I glanced back, they were clearing the way for him, as if he were an executioner and might choose any one of them at random.

Terror behind me, ridicules around. And so I kept my eyes on the small room until I was safely inside. Or perhaps safely wasn’t the right term, the sounds of heavy boots behind me and the door being shut igniting my nerves all over again.