Page 80 of Picking Up the Gauntlet

“I don’t know,” he told Rook. “All I know is that I love your sister.”

“And that gives you the right to lure her to your bed?”

“Well, actually... I didn’t want to tell you, but she was the one luring me. At first.”

“Why am I not surprised?” mumbled Rook. “God’s eyes, we’ve got to stop this tournament.” He extended his arm and helped Jonathon to his feet.

“My thoughts exactly,” said Jonathon.

“We need to stop the competition, but it’ll never happen,” stated Rook. “It is already underway, and there are just too many people here. My father would never turn them away. That would be bad for his reputation. Plus, the nobles would make his life hell.”

“What can we do?” asked Jonathon.

“We?” Rook paced back and forth. “You will do nothing. I have to figure this out on my own.”

“Nay. I want to help. Certainly there’s something I can do,” said Jonathon.

“You’ve already done too much, believe me.”

“Can I enter the competition, and fight for Raven’s hand?” asked Jonathon.

“Nay. It’s against the rules. Only nobles can compete.” Rook crossed his arms over his chest. “However, there is no rule saying I can’t enter the tournament.”

“You?” asked Jonathon, making a face. “You’re her brother.”

“I know that,” said Rook. “However, if I win, then it’ll keep any other nobleman from winning.”

“Can you do that?” asked Jonathon, feeling excited that this might just work.

“I am the son of the lord of the castle. No one would stop me from being in the tournament. They’ll think I’m just doing it for sport and naught else.”

“What if you don’t win?” asked Jonathon, fearing the worse. “Then it will have been all for naught.”

“Not win?” Rook laughed. “I am the best at tournaments in all of England. Plus, I have an advantage since it is taking place at my home and I’m already comfortable with the setting. There’s no way I can lose. Now come on. I need to hurry. You can act as my squire. I’ll have to compete in the archery competition, and get there before it’s over. Let’s just hope to hell this works or it’s not going to be pretty in the end.”

* * *

Dressed in her hooded cloak and her surcoat, pretending to be Sir Nevar, Raven shot another arrow, hitting dead center once again. It looked like she won. Or at least she thought so. Then the herald made a surprise announcement.

“Before I declare Sir Nevar as the winner of the archery competition, we have one late entrant. Lord Rook Blake.”

“Rook?” she said aloud, turning quickly to see her brother picking up a bow right next to her. Jonathon was with him, acting as some kind of fake squire.

“Hello,” said Rook, nocking his arrow. “I am Lord Rook of Blake Castle. I don’t believe I know your name.”

Damn it, she didn’t need this. What the hell were they doing? They were going to ruin everything.

She kept her face hidden under the hood, glancing over to Albert who was dressed as her squire. He shrugged.

“I am Sir Jonathon Nevar,” she said, trying to use a low, fake voice. Jonathon looked up when she said his name. Now she wished she had used another name instead.

“From France?” asked Rook. “You don’t sound French.”

“Oui,” she answered, wishing her brother would just shut up.

“Is this your first tournament?” Rook asked in French.

Her brother was fluent in French. Raven, on the other hand didn’t know that language that well, since she hadn’t paid much attention during her studies. However, thankfully, she did understand what Rook just said.