Julian looked up as Mace approached and then swiveled his gaze to Elora standing by the tent entrance. His blue eyes softened tenderly, but they were still tinged with anguish. “You should go,” he said to her in a rush.
She shook her head. She wouldn’t leave him.
The brown-haired man shrugged and moved out of Mace’s way. Mace laid a hand on Julian’s left shoulder, probing it gently. “It’s swollen.”
“Hurts like the devil,” Julian growled and bowed his head again.
“It will get worse.”
Elora clenched her fists in anxiety. She shifted from foot to foot, not knowing how to comfort Julian or take his pain away. She wasn’t even sure her presence aided him. She just knew she couldn’t leave him.
“Stand up,” Mace ordered.
Shocked, Julian looked up at Mace towering over him. He glanced at Baldwin, who shrugged in acquiescence.
Julian stood, keeping his left arm immobile, pressed close to his body. He was taller than Mace.
Light shone in from the entrance where Gilbert held the tent flap up to see inside. Sunlight from the open flap washed over Julian’s muscled arms and torso, casting light on his injured shoulder.
Immediately, Elora saw a protrusion of what looked like bone beneath his skin at the shoulder. It was just like the injury Edward had. She gasped. If she recognized the injury, Mace must, too!
Mace cast a glance at Elora, grinning in reassurance, before addressing Julian, “Do you still want to joust?”
“What kind of question is that?” Julian demanded. “Of course. More than anything.”
“We should wait for the physician,” Baldwin advised. “They’ll be here shortly.”
Mace nodded slowly in agreement and licked his lips. “And they might be able to help you. But they might not. You can’t joust like this, can you?”
Julian gritted his teeth. “I can joust,” he insisted.
Mace’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But you’d lose. Do you want that?”
“We will wait for the physician,” Baldwin insisted.
Mace shrugged and turned to leave. “If that’s what you want.”
“Wait!” Julian called. When Mace paused and looked over his shoulder at him, he continued, “What can you do? What is wrong with my shoulder?”
“Wrong?” Mace asked, his hands on his hips. “You were hit hard with a lance.”
“Can you fix it?”
“No,” Baldwin gasped. “He is a knight, not a physician.”
“’Tis true. I am not a physician. But I have seen similar injuries.”
“He helped Edward,” Elora offered, stepping into the tent. Behind her, Gilbert held the flap open. “Mace can help you, Julian.”
“He already has. He gave me lances.” Julian glanced from Elora to Mace. His lips pursed, and he agreed with a nod. “I trust you. What can you do?”
Baldwin sighed heavily and bowed his head in disapproval.
Elora stepped up to Julian, placing a comforting hand on his good arm.
“Edward and I were in a tourney at Castle Blackstone,” Mace explained. “Edward was injured in the joust, much the same as you are.”
Julian grimaced and clenched his teeth. “What can you do?” he asked impatiently.
