Page 82 of Picking Up the Gauntlet

“I think after all he’s done for us lately, you could make an exception, dear,” Devon told her husband.

“Nay. Father’s right,” interrupted Raven. “It wouldn’t look good. Besides, he’s acting as Rook’s squire in the tournament so he’ll be busy.”

“Aye, that’s right. He’s busy,” agreed Lark.

“Father, why is Rook even competing?” asked Raven.

“Yes, that is a little odd, considering the winner is to marry Raven,” agreed Devon.

“I didn’t know he was competing,” said Corbett. “I’ll put a stop to this at once.” He got up, but just then the sword-fighting began and he sat back down. “Mayhap I’ll send a squire to find him. I don’t want to miss this.”

“I’ll find him,” said Raven, using this as an excuse to leave.

“Nay, you’ll miss the sword-fighting competition,” said her father. “You already missed the archery since you were at the garderobe so long.”

“Nay. I saw it,” said Raven.

“You did?” Her father turned to face her. “How?”

“From down there,” she told him, nodding with her head. “I wanted to get a better view, so I stayed down there. I’ll watch the sword-fight from there too, as soon as I find Rook.”

“Raven, you sit back down and stay here,” ordered Corbett. “The knights are competing for your hand in marriage. It doesn’t look good if you keep disappearing.”

“But I–”

“I said, sit!”

“Yes, Father.” She sat back down, just as Jonathon came up to the front of the raised platform.

“Raven, I need to tell you something. Hurry,” he said, waving her closer.

“What is it?” she asked, feeling trapped, aggravated, and anxious right now.

“Lean forward. I don’t want everyone to hear this.”

Just as she leaned forward, Rook walked up.

“Jonathon, come on. I’m up next,” he said, urgency in his tone.

“Rook? What are you doing competing?” growled Corbett.

“I have a good reason, Father. I’ll tell you later.”

“What reason could you possibly have to enter this tournament?” he asked in challenge.

“I-I can’t say. Not right now.”

“He’s probably only doing it to embarrass me somehow,” spat Raven. She needed Rook out of the way if she was going to win. Her brother was better at sword-fighting than she was, and she worried he might beat her. If so, she’d be forced to compete in the joust, and that couldn’t happen. Not if she valued her life. “Father, tell him to withdraw from the competition right now. I don’t want him in it. He’s going to ruin everything.”

“Nay, Raven,” said Jonathon. “You don’t understand.”

“You need to call her Lady Raven. Use her title, armorer,” snapped Corbett.

“Lord Rook will fight against Sir Whitehead now,” called out the announcer. “Gentlemen, make your way over to your spots to compete.”

Corbett stood up and called out. “My son, Rook, withdraws from the competition. Carry on without him.”

“Father, nay!” shouted Rook. “You need to let me compete. You don’t know what you’re doing.”