The Glowing Knight

JAMES WAS DOWN
there fighting.

I was not.

And this was what jealousy felt like.

“He's very good, isn't he?” Lady Meredith Corcoran fanned herself with a tiny contraption of silk and lace. It looked pointless. She wasn't exactly sweating, but her pale face was flushed with heat, even in the shade of the box reserved for the royal family and guests.

The box sat at the top of the stands, enclosed on three sides. Dragon banners hung over the doors on either end, motionless. One of the footmen by a door appeared to be praying for a breeze as he poured a glass of chilled wine and took it to my father, who sat in a cushioned chair at the top row of the box, Mother to his left, and the Corcorans to his right. Aunt Kathleen sat next to Mother, but she was only half here while the others engaged in a low conversation about the trays of fruit sitting on
the table nearby.

“Your cousin, that is.” Lady Meredith smiled and fanned herself faster. “He seems to be one of the best fighters down there.”

“He is, my lady.” The stands around the tournament field were packed with hundreds of nobles, and spotted with blue uniforms where off-duty Indigo Order soldiers and officers watched the cadet trials. Voices rang out, calling encouragement and insults to the contestants, forcing me to lean close to hear Lady Meredith. “If he wins this round, he'll move to the finals tomorrow. He'll fight not other cadets, but officers.”

“And if he wins?”

I could feel my father's eyes on the back of my head. Mother's, too. Both of them urging me to converse with Lady Meredith, make her like me, and like her back.

There was nothing disagreeable about Lady Meredith. She was good-hearted and pleasant, and pretty enough to turn heads, especially with that golden hair she kept twisted into a coronet. But how was I supposed to focus on her when my future was being decided down there with James?

No, that wasn't why I was irritated. It was that every time I looked at her, I found myself wanting to make her smile or laugh. It was alarming how easily she could steal my attention.

“If he wins the match with an officer, he'll have his choice of duties once he's finished training this fall.” Which was exactly why this was so important. I needed James to win so that his superiors would believe he was fit to guard me.

Below, James ducked a swing aimed to take off his head. The crowd gasped and Lady Meredith drew back, her hands
flying to her chest. “Saints! What if Cadet Rayner hadn't been quick enough to evade that?”

I applauded as frantically as manners allowed. “That swing was announced so obviously that missing it would have meant James shouldn't be here today.” Anyway, James was good at anticipating others' moves—a favorable trait for a potential bodyguard—and it was one of his biggest advantages in these trials.

“Incredible,” Lady Meredith breathed. Her cheeks flushed pink with the day's heat.

“Yes.” I grinned and leaned forward to watch James thrust his dulled tournament blade toward his opponent, a tall, muscled boy about the same age as James and me. His black hair shone with sweat. “That's Eric Matson he's fighting,” I said.

Lady Meredith didn't take her eyes off the match. “I don't know his family.”

That wasn't a surprise. They were some of the lower nobles, with little land outside their Hawksbill home. Most ended up joining the Indigo Order. “They're distant relatives of the Chuters, and rather new to the city themselves. I believe they arrived shortly after your family returned to Hawes.”

“I've missed so much in my time away.”

“I'd be happy to show you around, and tell you all the gossip, if Lady Chey hasn't already.” I seemed to have a slice of free time lately, while Professor Knight was recovering.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

We were silent as James began another attack, feinting and cutting, driving Matson back. Their swords flashed in the noon sunlight.

“Matson is good, too,” I said, as he lunged to defend. “At this stage in the trials, they're all good. But he's weaker on his left side and knows it. Watch how he guards it more.”

“Ah, yes. And that leaves his right side exposed.”

“Exactly.” Just then, James struck low on Matson's right leg. The dulled blade—tournament regulations—hit with an audible
thwack
on his armor, and the audience roared, many thinking the match was done. But it wasn't a killing blow, so the two continued around each other, with points in James's favor.

“This is so frustrating!” Lady Meredith beat her tiny fan harder, just pushing the hot air around the stuffy box. “How long can this possibly go on?”

“Until one is ‘dead' or someone reaches ten points. Killing blows are ten points.” I added James's in my head. “He has seven already: four for the strike against Matson's leg, and three for evading that blow earlier.”

“Saints. I just want Cadet Rayner to win!”

I was inclined to agree, but with my parents sitting directly behind me, I didn't want to risk them overhearing how badly I needed James's victory. After the debacle at my birthday party last week, it was likely I'd be stuck with the current troop of guards for the rest of my life, but if I could also have James—that would be better. Then I'd always have a friend.

Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I watched James slash and parry and wait for Matson to leave an opening. The crowd grew quiet, everyone focused on the pair in the ring.

James struck, likely finishing the battle—but brown-and-gray-dashed hair, a professor's coat, the faint “Sorry, excuse me” caught my attention away. Professor Knight? Last I'd heard, he'd
been on bed rest, with a royal physician attending him every day.

Lady Meredith surged to her feet along with everyone else, clapping and shouting with enthusiasm I hadn't expected from her.

I was on my feet, too, but scanning the crowd for Professor Knight. That
had
been him, I was sure of it. But now he was lost in the press of people cheering for James, who stood in the center of the ring and sheathed his sword. His face was bright with exertion and the attention of hundreds of eyes, but he bowed toward my family's box and grinned wide enough that no one would ever know he'd been nervous.

“The match goes to James Rayner!” The announcer's voice boomed from the ground, and the applause roared louder. Eric Matson stood off to the side, clapping too, though a frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. Anyone would be upset to lose, but surely he hadn't expected to win against James; James was the best.

Even as my chest swelled with pride for my cousin, my eyes fell back to the place I'd seen Professor Knight. I'd been dying to talk to him about what happened during my birthday party, but of course I hadn't been permitted to visit him. Father was afraid I'd interrogate him and try to blame Hensley for the burn again.

But now he was out in public. Surely no one would disagree if I wanted to see how my favorite professor was feeling a mere week after a terrible attack.

“Excuse me,” I said to Lady Meredith, and pushed myself out of my chair.

“Tobiah?” Father's warning tone stilled me. “Going somewhere?”

I paused halfway to the door, not quite managing the look of innocent surprise I wanted. “Yes?”

Mother and Aunt Kathleen were looking on, as well as Lord and Lady Corcoran.

“Where are you going?” Father's gaze didn't leave mine.

I lifted my chin and forced confidence into my voice. “I just saw Professor Knight and I'm going to speak with him. As you can imagine, I'm relieved that he's recovered enough to attend the tournament today.”

Father's eyes narrowed, like if he squinted just right, he could see what I was really up to. “If that's so, he'll be recovered enough to attend your lessons tomorrow. Stay here with Lady Meredith. It would be rude to leave her.”

“Oh, I don't mind if he wants to speak with his professor.” Lady Meredith smiled warmly at me, but stopped when she noticed Father's scowl.

Mother and Aunt Kathleen bent their heads toward the Corcorans', as though none of them were curious about the outcome of
this
battle.

I glanced where I'd seen Professor Knight, itching to run away. But if I disobeyed Father now I'd be in more trouble later. Anyway, he was right. I'd be able to talk to Professor Knight tomorrow.

Trying to suppress a frustrated glower, I returned to my seat next to Lady Meredith.

“Is something wrong?” Her voice was low so our parents wouldn't hear.

“Of course not.” I smiled, but as the crowd settled again and the next match was announced, I finally had a clear view of
Professor Knight. And the man next to him.

Lord Hensley.

They sat unusually close, Professor Knight nodding at whatever Lord Hensley was saying. Their voices were lost under the hum of so many people, but the two looked . . . not quite friendly, but not as antagonistic as I'd imagined, considering last week.

I leaned forward, not that I could hear anything. When Knight looked directly at Hensley, he wore a polite smile. “I'll do it.” At least, that was what it looked like he'd said.

Hensley's face was harder to see, so I couldn't catch his response.

“Midnight,” Knight said, with the look of someone repeating something, or confirming.

As a new set of fighters moved onto the field below, Hensley and Knight pulled away from each other. When Hensley stood, he pressed his hand against Knight's shoulder.

Knight startled and went still. Hensley stared down for a long moment, and then, apparently satisfied, picked his way across the row, toward the aisle, and moved out of my line of sight.

“That looked uncomfortable,” Lady Meredith said, just loud enough for me to hear. When I looked at her, she lifted an eyebrow. “Those two are why you're frowning, right? Your professor and Lord Hensley?”

She was sharp. And I needed to work on my mask.

“I'm sure it was nothing.” I forced my frown away. “I believe our families are having dinner together tonight. I hope you memorized all of James's moves, because he'll want to know what you think about every one of them.”

“Oh indeed.” Lady Meredith sat back and smiled. “I paid careful attention.”

As the next match began, I turned my eyes to Knight once more. He was alone, none of those surrounding him bothering to engage him in conversation. Everyone was more interested in the fighting.

What had they been discussing? Knight had promised to do something. Father claimed Hensley was working for him. Could it all be related?

But what about the burn? The suspicious exit?

I had no doubts there was a flasher who could burn things—and I was pretty sure, no,
certain
, that was Hensley—but why burn Knight? Or the pre-wraith gallery in Rayner Manor?

I didn't even know if Knight's burn and the Rayner Manor fire were connected.

But I meant to find out.