Chapter 1
Dogs. There were at least two of them in the distance and they were headed her way!
Lady Raven Blake’s head shot up as she listened closely from her secluded spot in the forest. It was just past daybreak, but she was sure she’d heard the low, deep barking of canines, and it was getting louder.
How had they found her so quickly?
“My lady, it sounds as if the castle hounds are searching for you, and on your trail,” announced Albert, the thirteen-year-old page who was one of the two boys assisting her today.
Albert was a tall, skinny lad with deep-set eyes as dark as his scraggly hair that hung down to his shoulders.
The other boy with her was Harold, the squire of Raven’s twin brother, Rook.
Harold was the opposite of Albert, having blond hair and a good build with muscles.
At eighteen years of age, he was far from actually being a boy anymore.
Harold was in training to someday become a knight.
He sat atop his horse at the other end of the makeshift tilt that would separate them as they jousted.
By rights, this should be a wooden fence, but Raven had to be resourceful since she was practicing in the woods.
She’d used a rope and tied it between two branches that she’d stuck in the ground.
All she really needed was something to depict lanes, so this would work fine.
Harold gripped his lance, ready to joust, but looked more than nervous to actually do it.
She’d seen him joust many times when he’d practiced with Rook.
He’d never seemed as nervous as he did now.
The young man actually had nothing to worry about.
He was good at the sport. Raven learned a lot about the joust just by watching the knights and other men but had never really tried it.
“I am well aware of the dogs on my trail, Albert,” Raven answered with a sigh, mounting her horse and collecting her shield from the boy.
She knew exactly which dogs were pursuing her because of the sound of their barking.
They were her own dogs, Copper and Brindy.
There was no doubt that her brother, Rook, was involved in this.
Raven had purposely sneaked off to the woods at sunrise to practice the joust, since she wasn’t allowed to do so back at Blake Castle.
She had hoped to return before anyone noticed she was missing. That plan, sadly, wasn’t working.
“Perhaps it would be best to leave now.” Harold flipped up the visor on his helm, glancing nervously towards the sound of the barking dogs in the distance.
He wore armor, as was required of the sport, but Raven didn’t have any.
“Your father isn’t going to like this, my lady.
I don’t want him angry with me.” Harold tried to talk her out of this, but Raven was a fighter and wouldn’t give up so easily.
“You’re worried about what my father will say? Really, Harold,” said Raven, with a tsking noise from her mouth. “I’d think you’d be more concerned with what Lord Rook will do to you, rather than Lord Corbett. After all, you are Rook’s squire.”
Raven found it odd that Harold had come to her, eagerly offering his services yesterday, when she hadn’t even asked him for his help or told him her plan at all.
He said he’d heard about it from Albert, even though Albert denied telling a soul.
Well, she should have known right then and there that something was rotten.
Instead of turning him down, she’d accepted his help since she needed someone familiar with jousting to go up against. Plus, Harold had access to the jousting equipment, and wouldn’t be questioned about borrowing a few lances.
If she or Albert tried to sneak them out, someone surely would have stopped them.
“I–I am concerned, that’s all.” Harold wasn’t usually so uptight.
“I mean, of course I’m worried about what Sir Rook will say or do to me.
I am, my lady.” The boy fidgeted with his lance and wouldn’t look directly at her when he spoke.
She’d seen this action before, but it had usually been from her three brothers when they were growing up.
She hadn’t seen her younger brothers, Tolin and Daegel, for some time now, since they were both off being fostered by other lords.
She missed them dearly. Being around Albert and Harold helped to fill that void.
Harold’s lack of eye contact right now meant he was lying.
She was sure of it. It also told her that what she’d suspected was true.
Rook was behind the search party headed this way.
Her twin brother always gave her trouble.
Well, Raven no longer cared. She wanted to learn to joust, and Rook was not going to stop her.
“Bid the devil,” she spat, looking back over her shoulder for the approaching search party. She could hear at least one rider crashing through the woods, traveling with the dogs. “Why did they have to bring the mastiffs?”
Raven collected the oversized helm from Albert, donning it and fastening the buckle under her chin.
It was awkward and she found it amazing that anyone could wear this heavy thing, and still be expected to joust, or even fight with it upon their head.
“Hand me the lance, Albert. Hurry. I only have enough time for one pass before they find and stop me.” Raven was skilled with weapons of every kind and even had her own sword.
She liked a challenge, and the joust by far was the most challenging thing she’d probably ever do.
Jousting was a sport for the nobles, and only the men. No proper lady was ever supposed to do that! That’s why she had to practice in secret.
“My lady, I agree with Harold. I think it would be wise to return to the castle now.” Albert shifted from foot to foot, biting his lip and looking back toward the sound of the approaching party.
She supposed the boys had reason to be worried.
They could lose their positions over this, or even be put in the pillory.
The pillory was a wooden device where their head and hands were locked through small wooden openings.
It was a device to shame people who had done wrong.
Usually they got hit by rotten fruit thrown by the serfs and peasants.
She, on the other hand, wouldn’t be punished.
Her father favored her since she was his only daughter.
Raven had used this to her advantage many times, and today would be no different.
“Give me the lance, and that’s an order.
” Raven’s hand shot out and she waited. “Harold, are you ready?” she called out to the squire, glancing over to see him lower his visor and give a slight nod.
Her palms were moist with sweat under her leather gloves.
She also found it hard to breathe with the heavy helm weighing her down.
The sound of her rapidly beating heart thundered in her ears, mixed with the barking of the mastiffs getting closer and closer.
It was now or never. Raven wasn’t going to quit.
This might be her only chance. She would do it or die trying.
“Thank you, Albert.” Raven took the long wooden pole from the boy, slipping the grapper, the ring attached to the lance, into the arret—the hook she’d sewed onto her padded gambeson since she was wasn’t wearing armor.
The grapper and arret worked together to steady the lance and keep it from sliding backwards upon impact.
This was risky and not much protection, but no armor made for a man would ever fit her.
A mail coat would have been beneficial, but was much too heavy and bulky for her frame.
So, clothed in her brother’s old tunic and trews and with only a padded vest for protection, this would have to do.
Now that the lance was supported, she lowered her visor, barely able to breathe or see a blasted thing. God’s eyes, how did knights do this?
Raven was tall for a lady. Her physical strength exceeded any woman’s two-fold, since she grew up wielding a sword.
She was nothing like the rest of the frail doves that spent their time sewing, weaving, and gossiping all day long.
Instead of partaking in these activities, Raven had been involved in archery, throwing daggers, or swordplay.
She wanted excitement, challenges, and the ability to do what she pleased in life.
Just like that dark bird she was named after, she was confident, inquisitive, and pretty much shunned or feared by the rest of the ladies of the castle.
“Go on. Give him the signal to start,” she told Albert, itching to try the joust before she was stopped in her tracks. She gripped the lance securely while her horse danced restlessly beneath her. The sound of the barking in the woods became louder, doing nothing to calm any of them.
Raven’s mastiffs barely ever barked. It made her wonder why they were making such a fuss now. Perhaps they were warning her that they were coming. That thought made her smile. She had a connection to her dogs like none other. She loved her pets but didn’t want to see them right now.
Until today, she’d only practiced the joust on a quintain—a wooden arm that swung around when hit, and had a sandbag attached to the other end. She wasn’t any good at it, and tired of fighting against a wooden object. Today would be her first time to go up against a man.
“Go!” shouted Albert, swiping his hand through the air, hitting her horse on the back end to send it running.
Raven shot forward with a jerk, trying her best to keep her lance high and steady as her horse thundered over the ground, making its way toward Harold.
It was hot under the heavy helm. Her breathing made it slippery from inside.
As she propelled forward, her helm slipped down and she had to raise her chin just to be able to see out the slit in the visor.