hundred years,” Jordan corrected. “That’s later Middle Ages. We’re in the early Middle Ages.”
“There’re different Middle Ages?” Lam asked.
“Hundreds of years, according to Merlin,” Ari said. “We’re pre–religious overhaul, apparently. Merlin said that was ‘a blessing.’”
Lamarack cocked their head. “Wait, what are these ages in the middle of?”
“After people discovered science,” Jordan said. “Before people wanted science.”
“You’re saying we’re in a time of self-selected idiocy?” Lam deadpanned.
Ari adjusted her leg armor. “I’m saying we’re about to fight a fake battle in a sports arena for a bunch of drunk villagers at ten in the morning. They’ve got a ways to go as a culture.”
“Sounds like Lionel to me,” Lam said.
Ari watched the crowds continue to file into the stadium. “There’s more people here than the wedding,” she noted. “Word is out that Arthur will fight.”
“Blood is a greater draw than love.” Lam’s voice was poignant. “If they figure out you’ve chosen a handmaiden for your team, they’ll riot.”
Ari swung her sword to wake up her shoulder. “Lam, come on. You know pissing people off is my specialty. It’s how I made Gwen fall for me.”
“Speaking of the queen.” They motioned with a nod of their head to the spot where the crowds were opening, creating a passage. Arthur’s procession wasn’t like the other knights’. His route cut straight through the heart of the tournament ring, stealing everyone’s attention as he deposited Gwen on a seat overburdened with fluffy bright cushions beneath the shade of a billowing canopy. When he brought the back of her hand to his lips, Ari looked away, examining the bent joints on her gauntlets. She only hoped they’d hold up long enough for one more fight.
“Painful?” Ari expected Lam, but this time it was Jordan, come to stand beside her.
“It’s painful to answer that question, Jordan, because of course it’s painful.”
“Pain is good. It means you’re actually trying.”
With that, Jordan took position. The teams were assembling and even though Ari had spent the last three days setting this in motion, she suddenly felt the weight of a seriously bad idea. There was too much hate in the air. It rose off of Sir Kay’s dark expression like smoke.
From the left-center of the ring, Ari motioned for Arthur, Lamarack, and Jordan to circle in. At right-center, Sir Kay and his band weren’t holding one last strategy talk but taking practice swings at the air. Ari beckoned Arthur closer. “I’m matching you up with Galahad. He’s got a solid arm but aged joints. Make him bend his knees and he’s yours.”
“Shouldn’t I be matched with Sir Kay?” Arthur countered. “I am the leader here.”
“Only in name,” Ari said. “He’d spank you in front of your kingdom and enjoy it.”
Arthur looked down sourly. This time Ari’s honesty might have dug too deep.
“I’ll take Sir Kay,” Jordan growled beneath her helmet. “He’s the fuckwit who threw me in the oubliette.”
Ari nodded. “That leaves Lam with Gawain. He’s feisty. Lots to prove, although I’m not sure he’s as rotten as Suck Kay.”
“Sir Kay,” Lam corrected.
“Yeah, sure, that’s what I said.” Ari was about to claim the fourth knight for herself, the unknown quantity in the group who she had a sneaking suspicion was Sir Kay’s ringer, but the crowds had gone expectantly quiet. Ari had a flash of a very different time, a very different tournament ring on a planet far away. She felt the breath-held silence before Gwen had kissed her… and then gambled her entire queendom to save Ari from Mercer.
Ari looked at Gwen. The crowd was waiting while Gwen waved a bit of cloth that matched her glorious red dress. A token of her favor. Arthur started toward Gweneviere.
When Jordan gave Ari a hard shove, she snapped, “What? I’m standing right here!”
Jordan pointed. Beside Gwen—eclipsed by Gwen—a girl wearing a shade of pink that felt distinctly un-medieval stood with her own token held out. Ari hustled over and managed a wink at the girl in pink, inspiring a decent blush. Ari stiffly remembered that this was Elaine of Astolat. They’d been introduced during last night’s feasting. Elaine retreated under the canopy while Arthur returned to central position, and Ari found herself stuck in Gwen’s gravity. Only a few feet apart.
Ari stared straight at the queen for the span of a breath, not caring who saw the intensity in her eyes. Then the trumpets sounded harsh and high, and she jogged into the melee.
Young Arthur was nearly dancing, but Ari noted he was the only one taking this lightly.