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As if Winnie would agree to such a thing. Then again, wasn’t she a real-life damsel in distress right now? She was, after all, a young, unmarried woman who was suffering. Her dad was clearly upset with her, she didn’t know if she still had a job at Foxwood, and she was about to appear before the love of her life and beg him to love her in return—all while in front of a huge audience.

If that didn’t speak damsel in distress, she didn’t know what did.

“So…are you ready to do this?” Char asked, still smiling at her.

Winnie’s head swirled, but she nodded, nonetheless. “Yes. I’m ready. Let’s go catch myself a knight.”

Matthew charged toward Hubert for their next round of jousting, Nightshade’s hoofbeats pounding against the ground, the crowd cheering around him until his lance met contact with his friend and mentor’s shoulder, the tip splintering across the grass.

The cheers grew louder, and the announcer’s voice echoed around the area. “That is three points for Sir Matthew for splinterin’ the tip of his lance. Did you see the speed they have runnin’ down the tilt in the list? The list is what we call the field, my lords and ladies, and the tilt is the barrier between the horses.”

Matthew couldn’t believe the difference a good announcer made to the crowd. Funnily enough, Mr. Fogg—who had been more than happy to stand down as solely the score keeper—had told them all about his brother-in-law, Mr. Aiken, who was “far more enthusiastic” than himself. The change in the atmosphere was remarkable, and once again, it was thanks to Winnie for pushing a change in the first place.

Matthew rode his horse back toward his side of the tilt, trying to wipe the image of her from his mind again, but it was of no use. He couldn’t help himself. He’d been seeing her throughout the day, too—or rather, imaginings of her. He just kept on hoping she’d show up around the tents or beneath a tree. At this point, he’d even take her in her pencil skirt, scribbling away on her tablet all the ways his festival had been terrible before she came along.

“Now Sir Matthew and Sir Hubert will be facin’ each other again,” Mr. Aiken continued. “Remember, where once the goal was to unseat the opponent, here, these knights must merely break their lance on the opposin’ knight’s body or shield.”

Matthew faced Mr. Birdwhistle again, drawing in a deep breath. He needed to focus. While he no longer cared about winning the match, he still had to pay attention. The last thing he wanted to do was injure Mr. Birdwhistle or either of their horses accidentally.

“Oh, we have trouble a-brewin’ on’t other side of the tilt,” Ed continued. “Who is that? Oh! Oh, no, it’s the dreaded sorceress, Endora!”

Matthew waited at his side of the arena, listening to the script Ed had memorized—another imagining from Winnie—and recited from heart.

“Let’s watch and see what she does,” he whispered into the mic.

Just as they’d all rehearsed, Endora—or rather, Mrs. Birdwhistle who had set aside her fortune telling outfit for a long, gray wig and black robes—cackled at the end of the tournament area, appearing in a cloud of smoke.

She snuck toward the group of damsels—all actors hired and dressed up in their finest medieval ware—who remained unaware until one of them dressed in red was snatched by the sorceress.

He recalled Jess being assigned the role of damsel that afternoon, but he couldn’t be certain, as Char had agreed to take charge over that part of the festival. Either way, due to his distance and his visor being down, Matthew couldn’t see much of what was going on.

“Now you are mine!” Mrs. Birdwhistle shouted in a shrill voice.

“Oh, no!” Mr. Aiken exclaimed, narrating the event as Mrs. Birdwhistle grabbed the girl around her forearm and pulled her away from the other damsels. “Endora has taken a lovely lady from the rest. Who will rescue this damsel in distress now?”

The crowd was thoroughly engaged in the spectacle, and Matthew couldn’t blame them. Everything Winnie touched was gold.

He watched as Jess was pulled away, the woman pretending to swoon into the sorceress, then he narrowed his eyes. His mind was playing tricks on him. It had been doing so all day long. And yet…Jess didn’t look like Jess.

His heart flipped, but he pushed it down. He wouldn’t allow himself to hope again. He couldn’t handle the heartache.

But when the damsel in distress made eye contact with him from far down the list, he could no longer help himself. His breath was snatched away from him, and he threw open his visor.

He had been thinking about Winnie too much. There was no way Jess could have just magically turned into the love of his life. But as her eyes lingered on his, and he set aside his denial, he could no longer refuse the truth. That smile, that gorgeous, brown hair, that quintessentially Winnie expression of confidence mixed with uncertainty.

She had come back. Winnie had come back.

And she was dressed as a damsel.

Thoughts sped through his mind. Why had she come back? Was she to stay there for good or had she simply forgotten something?

A brief smile spread across her lips, no doubt from the look of utter shock on his features, but she pulled on an expression of fear and dismay as Mrs. Birdwhistle stole her away.

“We’ve heard rumors of Endora,” Mr. Aiken said, Matthew barely registering the man’s words. “She thieves unsuspectin’ damsels often and turns them into toads for her magic spells. Will that ’appen to this fair lady yonder? Not if our king has anythin’ to say about the matter.”

Matthew continued to stare, unable to peel his eyes from Winnie, even when his dad—who had felt well enough to play the king of the tournament that day—stood at the center platform built to be raised above the rest of the grounds.

“My people!” he said, using another mic from his seated position. “We have witnessed something truly horrific this day. But I will not stand by and allow yet another one of our lovely damsels to be taken to fall prey to the ill will of the evil Endora. I will send our bravest knight to rescue her. Which of you shall go?”