Kyle looked around the arena. His dad had brought him to Ascot once. He remembered coming back here to watch the horses being paraded round the arena before races so that punters could check them out and see which ones they fancied betting on. His dad had been showing off, telling Kyle all about ‘form’, which horses were fit, the right weight, running well.

He still lost all his money betting on the wrong ones.

Well, the arena was being put to a very different use today. When Kyle had heard what this event was all about, he’d begged Sean to let him join in. The fat kid, Green, had been going to fight with Sean, and Kyle could see that he was secretly glad to be out of it.

Kyle asked Sean about the scary-looking guy with the shaved head who stuck to the King like glue. He’d seen how everyone was a bit scared of him. He was obviously handy. So why wasn’t he on the team instead of the likes of Green?

‘The only event he goes in for is the last part of the Royal Tournament,’ Sean explained. ‘Dunno why. Nobody questions him. Nobody ever really talks to him. He is what he is. Has his own way of doing things. Nobody even knows his name.’

‘Yeah? So what do you call him then?’

‘We don’t call him anything. As I say, he is what he is.’

Kyle was high on excitement. This was almost a medieval tournament, like something from Game of Thrones. He’d always liked stories and films about knights when he’d been little, and Lord of the Rings. One Christmas he’d been given a Playmobil castle. Wondered where it was now. Would have loved to get it out of its box and set it up and have another battle. This was better, though. All the kids arriving at Ascot on their horses with their weapons and armour. The racing, the fighting. Shame there wasn’t gonna be any jousting. Maybe he’d suggest it for the next meeting.

Not that he’d be here, he supposed. He’d be back in London by then, back at the Tower. So how about he got Jordan Hordern to set up his own races? His own Royal Tournament?

That’d be well cool.

Kyle was at home here. He liked fighting. It was that simple. All the other problems in the world disappeared when you were fighting. Nothing else mattered. It was just beat them before they beat you. His brain was clear in a fight. It was when the fighting stopped that things got complex. Confusing. Difficult.

He looked across the arena and saw Josa and Kenton. They were gonna be well sore from this morning. He hoped they wouldn’t try anything stupid. Kenton had a club and Josa carried a narrow-bladed sword.