“This isn’t funny,” I mumbled to Scarlet.

“Hollis . . . it’s Etan.”

I turned, staring through the slits of his visor. I could barely make out his eyes—the same blue-gray that was etched into every stone I passed. Yes, it was absolutely him. And then I realized the enormous kindness he was showing me, the statement he was making to everyone in that crowd. I was welcomed in his family; I was welcomed in Isolte. The Northcotts didn’t distrust Coroans. So why should anyone else?

I stood, pulling the handkerchief from my wrist and tying it to the end of his lance.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He only bowed his head before moving back to the edge of the field.

“Have you ever seen Etan joust before?” I asked Scarlet as I sat back down.

“Many times.”

“Is he any good?”

She tilted her head. “He’s gotten better.”

“That’s reassuring,” I replied with a roll of my eyes. “If he gets hurt, that’s going to look really bad.”

She rested her head at a slant, looking at the field. “But imagine how spectacular it will look if he does well.”

It was another four matches before Etan pulled up to the end of the field. My handkerchief was now tucked into his armor, the fringes of lace and gold just peeking out along the side of his neck. I hoped that, at the very least, he wouldn’t somehow have his helmet ripped off or break an arm. Winning wasn’t nearly as important as him simply walking away unscathed.

I clutched my hands over my heart as the flag dropped and Etan and his opponent flew toward each other. For something that was usually so jarring, his run felt slow. I could feel the beat of the horse’s legs driving into the ground, and every cheer moved like cold honey through my ears. When Etan’s lance finally made contact with the shield of the other rider, it sounded like thunder was ripping open the sky. And then, as if it took no effort at all, Etan had knocked his opponent off the back of his horse, sending him to the ground.

He took off his helmet and ran over to make sure the other rider was fine. Once it was clear the grounded competitor was uninjured, screams erupted from the stands, and I think he must have heard mine over all of them. Our eyes met, and he wore an expression of absolute shock. I could not stop cheering.

Several people around us were clapping Uncle Reid on the back or making comments about how strong Etan was. Even across the field, people’s eyes went to the Northcotts. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder to see how Quinten was taking in our moment of praise. Even if he was enraged, I couldn’t be bothered to care.

This set Etan up for a very exciting day. The riders were eliminated through multiple rounds, and each time he came back to joust, I found myself nearly caving to the desire to bite my nails. My breath caught every time he charged across the field, lance high, posture determined. And round after round, he came out on top, making his way to the finals.