A crowd had already gathered in the tapestried banquet hall when Skop, Bear, Captain Lang, Perrault, Yu, and I reached its doors, our numbers one short because Cobie had flatly refused to come. You’ll do enough sucking up for the both of us, she’d said. Then she’d slammed the door in Perrault’s face.

We found the ballroom a blaze of color, a rainbow of gowns and gems and tailored jackets. I was grateful for the doors flung open to the courtyard and the cool night air, dazzled as I was by the glitter and noise and Bear close—so close—on my left as we took our seats.

“Bear.” Skop turned to him, intent and oblivious, as our plates came. “I’ve been wondering all day: Does Lord Geraint typically joust with a lance that long? He was struggling with it.”

I groaned inwardly, wishing Godmother Althea’s book weren’t the size of a paving stone and impossible to tote around. Here, there weren’t even coats of arms to distract me.

Time to start studying tapestries and gowns.

I glanced around the room, taking in the party again. Lang should have joined us—an empty chair waited beside Perrault a few seats down—but the captain stood to one side of the open doorway, scanning the room as if searching for someone in particular. I could probably have abandoned the party entirely and he wouldn’t have noticed.

Bear nudged me, suit jacket rustling against my bare shoulder. “The melee and the joust are no blindman’s buff, but would you find them less tedious if you understood them?”

His nose and cheeks were so near to mine. My pulse skipped. “Maybe.”

Bear smirked. “I’ll take that as a personal challenge.”

My stomach went warm, then froze when I saw Perrault. Across the room, his eyes on me were narrow slits in his pink cheeks.

I wanted to stare him down. To hold his gaze until he lowered his eyes.

But I was a coward. So I looked away and turned back to my friends.

Bear took his self-imposed directive seriously. Rather than simply talk about past tournament results, flicking through names and places I wouldn’t have recognized, he told stories, elaborating for my benefit on the personal tales of winners and losers and his own triumphs and training history. We didn’t notice when our empty dinner plates were cleared away and the outer courtyard filled with dancers.

“Scarecrows?” Skop laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “You fought scarecrows?”

“We beat them senseless.” Bear laughed into his hand, shoulders shaking. “Had to be entirely rebuilt. Veery’s father was ready to tan our hides.”

“And with good reason,” I choked. “You young vandals!”