As she stared at the field of honor, shivers of apprehension snaked through her. Jousting was dangerous, but the mud and rain made it even more so.
Elora glanced at Mace as he stood beside her, the downpour not seeming to affect him. He was drenched from his sodden hair to his boots. He looked at her and tried to grin in reassurance, but there was trepidation in his look. “Edward will win. Do not worry.”
She lifted her chin. “Do not be so certain,” she murmured. When Julian won this joust, Edward would be forced to admit his skill was unmatched. Edward would… still not allow her to see Julian. Her shoulders sagged. If Edward lost, he would be furious. He would no longer be an undefeated champion. He would stand even more firmly against her seeing Julian. She couldn’t win with either outcome.
“Why doesn’t Lord Yves call off the jousts for the day?” she demanded.
“The knights would not hear of it. A little rain never stopped them,” Mace explained.
This did not alleviate Elora’s unease. The rain pounded the wooden rooftop, and someone grunted behind her. She turned to see an elderly lord in a wet blue bliaut pushed against the rear of the stands in a dry space, staring at her brother. His brow was furrowed in worry, yet there was morbid anticipation in his eyes. Disgusted, she looked at the field again.
Julian pulled his helmet over his head. Then he reached out to Gilbert for his lance.
Edward followed suit and spurred his horse forward, charging down the field.
The deluge fell from the skies. Small splatters landed on the knight’s helmets, making them appear to sparkle.
The lances came down in unison, pointing at each other. The riders leaned forward, hurtling toward one another.
Elora slowly inhaled as they neared.
And then the clash! The lances struck and splintered as lightning forked in the sky.
They passed each other, leaving a cloud of flying wooden fragments. When Julian’s horse came closer to the stands, Julian wobbled, gripping the reins tightly to keep from falling off. He lifted his left arm and shook it slightly. His injured shoulder!
Elora straightened with a scowl. It must have been an accident. Edward would not have aimed for his injury on purpose.
Julian cantered Storm past Edward to his side of the field. He shook his arm again before reaching for the next lance. Gilbert handed it to him. Julian whirled Storm and spurred him, rushing down the list. He positioned his shield and held the lance upward at the ready until he closed on Edward, then lowered it and couched it beneath his arm.
Elora quickly wiped a drop of rain from her eyes and pressed her fingers to her lips.
The knights met in a thunderous clash as the lances struck their opponents. A flurry of splintering spears rained down about them.
Elora couldn’t take her stare from Julian. He grabbed and held his left arm. Even though his head was covered by his great helm, she knew he was in pain.
Could Edward be aiming for Julian’s wounded arm on purpose? Why? He didn’t need to! He was an undefeated champion. Unless…
…Unless he was afraid of Julian. Realization dawned on her, and she widened her eyes. Julian’s skill threatened him! Edward knew how good he was! Slowly, her mouth closed to a clenched jaw as anger fumed inside of her. Could it be that her brother was not the noble knight she thought he was? She had been in awe of him for years. Could it all have been a sham? Hitting Julian’s wounded arm once could be an accident, but twice was not.
“Edward is aiming for his wounded arm on purpose,” she proclaimed.
Mace glanced around quickly before looking back at her. “Lower your voice,” he commanded.
“Julian is hurt! And Edward knows it!” She spun to Mace.
His lips were pressed together, and his brow furrowed. “Edward wants to win. He will do everything in his power to remain a champion.”
Elora snapped her glare to the field of honor, pinpointing Edward. She couldn’t believe how naïve she had been about him.
“Julian would do the same,” Mace warned her.
“No, he wouldn’t,” she answered vehemently. “He is honorable and chivalrous. Something I believed my brother to be.” Edward had preached to her about safety and righteousness when all he actually cared about was winning. Julian was so much more decent than Edward. He deserved to win! He deserved to be victorious!
“It doesn’t matter,” Mace barked. “Edward is your family. He should be the one you want to win.”
“Why?” she demanded. “I want the more skilled and admirable knight to win. Not just because he is family, but because he is honorable. I thought knights lived by a code of chivalry. But this… this is not chivalry. It is treachery.”
“It is how you remain a champion.”
