I frowned. “Of course it matters.”
He shook his head and put the lighter thread on the tray, picking up the brown as he started on the overskirt.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said. “But if you’re worried about keeping up appearances, I’ll be better. I’m just tired.”
“Great, just what I wanted. I’m so grateful you’re willing to rally yourself to be around me.”
He didn’t respond to that, and we stood there in heated silence– literally, my face got hotter and hotter as my annoyance stewed– until he was done, which he indicated by silently standing up and putting the thread back where he’d gotten it. The moment he moved away, I did too, desperate to put as much space between us as possible.
“How much?” I asked the attendant at the entrance, then handed her a fiver before I left. I heard Phil call my name as I walked away from the tent, but I didn’t look back.
* * *
An hour later,I still hadn’t found the others again. They had moved on from the fighting area, and despite my phone indicating full signal, nothing was going through. I was lost in a sea of costumes, looking for five nerds in a group of tens of thousands. I thought I saw Chloe and Fatima’s weird helmets about a million times, but it turned out there were just a lot of pink and purple outfits, and even Jack’s six-foot-whatever ass was nowhere to be seen.
Eventually, I decided I’d just have to eat lunch alone, so I made my way to a grassy area next to the ruined part of the castle. There was a cluster of food trucks and tents next to a large reflection pool, bordered on the other side by a stunning flower garden built into the ruins. Dozens of people wandered through it taking photos, and I made a mental note to look for some online after the festival. I was sure they’d look like they were straight out of one of those fantasy novels Morgan was always reading.
I ordered a whiskey pulled pork sandwich from a stand that was built to look like a steam engine, then took it to a bench that had just freed up in front of the reflecting pool, leaning forward as I ate so I wouldn’t drop any on my outfit. I ate it in about five bites, licking my fingers clean of the sauce that had dripped down them.
“Is this seat taken?” I heard over my shoulder as I had my thumb in my mouth, and my heart jumped as I turned around, hoping to see Phil. But instead, there was a man standing there in what looked like full plate armour, a helmet tucked under one arm, the other behind his back. He had shoulder-length light brown hair and just a dusting of facial hair across his jaw, with deep brown eyes that turned down slightly at the sides in an endearing way. He was maybe a few inches taller than Phil, at least from what I could tell sitting down.
Something about him looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it, until I looked closer at the sword, recognising it from where it had torn through my skirts.
“You,” I said, trying not to sound overly hostile.
“Yeah, sorry, it’s me,” he said, grimacing. “But don’t worry, I come in peace. And with a peaceoffering, no less.”
He produced a brown paper bag from behind his back.
“I hope you like pain au chocolat?”
“I do indeed,” I said, eyeing the pastry warily. I didn’t make a habit of taking food from men I didn’t know, especially those who had wielded a blade at me. But for some reason, there was something about him that felt trustworthy.
Famous last words before he buries you in the forest.
“I bought it from just over there,” he said, pointing behind him at a coffee cart with a rack of identical pastries on display. “But I’ll take a bite first if you’d like.”
“That’s okay,” I said, scooting over to one side of the bench. He smiled and sat next to me, handing me the brown bag. He set his helmet on the grass at his feet before fumbling for the shoulder straps holding his shield to his back. I unwrapped the pastry whilst he did, pressing it lightly with my fingers. How it was still so crisp despite having been out for hours at a festival, I had no idea, but I wasn’t questioning it. I took a bite, my eyes fluttering closed, a pleasured moan escaping my lips. It was heavenly.
My enemy-turned-benefactor laughed, and I opened my eyes, brushing crumbs off my mouth and chest as I chewed. “Sorry,” I said, my mouth still half full.
“It’s okay,” he said, “it’s nothing compared to almost skewering you on a dull blade.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “In public, good sir?”
His cheeks went red, but he laughed again, a light and airy sound. It was nice.
“I’m Dan,” he said, holding out his right hand between us. I shook it.
“Amy.”
“Nice to meet you, Amy,” he said, “and under better circumstances this time.” His eyes were locked on mine, and I found myself grinning. He was actually quite charming when he wasn’t bludgeoning me on the battlefield. Or, well, next to it.
“Thank you for the peace offering,” I said, holding up the rest of the pastry. “Offering accepted.” I took what I hoped was a much daintier bite.
Dan threw his head back dramatically and brought his hands to his heart. “What a relief.”
We spent a good few minutes chatting about where we were from (he lived near Bristol) and who we were here with (he was also with his D&D group, though he’d abandoned them to look for me). He was an ecologist by day, mostly evaluating new building sites for impacts on bat and newt populations, and a serial nerd by night. I learned that his costume wasn’t just a standard knight get-up, but that he was meant to be a grittier version of a character called Sir Kirby from a kids’ show calledDoc McStuffins.
