Page 4 of Chivalry is Not Dead

Those blue eyes look imploringly back at me. “This is new unto me,” he repeats.

I clear my throat. Once. Twice. “What is new?”

“To be alive, after All Hallows’ Eve.”

“To be alive…” I don’t understand.

He nods solemnly, the column of his long throat bouncing on a swallow. “I have never lived the morrow after All Hallows’ Eve since the day I did perish.”

Alright, his riddles aren’t helping me understand what the hell he’s trying to tell me right now. I take a step closer to him, wringing my hands at the suggestion I’m about to make, recalling the last time I attempted any big magic and turned Leah’s entire garden into weeds. She wouldn’t speak to me for a week, and I had to help her replant the entire thing.

“Sanders… would you mind if I—well, the thing is I am kind of a witch. Not a good one. But I do have some magic. It mostly works on fabric, needles, and thread… but occasionally it also works on humans, and it would help if I could understand you better…”

His crooked nose scrunches up. “I comprehend thee not.”

“Right, right… that’s the problem.” I close the space between us and he stands, towering over me. “Can I?” I reach my hand out toward him, resting it on his throat.

Sanders, for some crazy reason, trusts me and does not pull back, though I can tell this is against all of his knightly instincts.

“I’m going to attempt some magic.” The way my magic works, all I need to do is focus on a task and my body does the rest. It’s a full-body tingling sensation that emanates from my heart, out through my core and into my limbs. I close my eyes and focus entirely on changing Sanders’ dialect to modern-day English.

I’ll admit, I am slightly distracted by the feel of his thick neck under my palm. There’s some slight stubble that sneaks its way down his veiny neck, and his Adam’s apple is very… prominent.

The tell-tale glow of my magic finishing emits a gasp from Sanders and has me yanking my hand away from his throat. “Well? Did it work?”

“Ady-lay Enelope-pay, hat-tay as-way amazing-ay,” he croaks out.

Dammit. Pig Latin?!

“Let me try again!” I plead, placing my hand back on his throat and closing my eyes to concentrate.

When I’m finished, I take a step back, raising my eyebrow in question.

“Você é linda, minha senhora.” A slight flush rises up his cheeks, and I desperately wish I understood whatever language that was.

“Dammit. One more time—don’t move.” He nods in agreement.

Laying my hand once more on his throat, I focus entirely on wanting to understand him. Wishing that I could speak plainly with this gorgeous knight that stumbled upon Leah’s Halloween party. Begging every magical fiber of my being to make it so, I picture my vocal chords extending beyond my body and into Sanders’. Picture them knitting together, singing the same tune.

The glow is blinding this time and satisfaction pulses through me. I know for certain that it worked.

“You are magnificent, Penelope.” Thank the gods his accent is still intact. “That was magnificent.”

On a shaky inhale, I step away from my knight in shining armor. “Thank you. Now what was it you were saying?”

His eyes bounce back and forth between mine, pleading—for what, I’m not sure. “How am I here? I have never lived the day after Halloween since the day I died.”

Well, that does nothing to clear things up.

3

This woman… that magic. I have traveled the world and never seen anything as beautiful.

Auraria is no stranger to paranormal activity, but a resurrected knight is difficult even for me to wrap my head around.

“You… died?” I repeat.

“I did.”