Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Charlie's phone buzzed for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. She didn't need to look to know what it was—more notifications, more hashtags, more strangers dissecting Viv and Rowan's relationship like it was public property.
#ThroneOfEmbarrassment
#KillOffVivienneCrossInstead
The last one made her stomach turn.
“Ignore it,” Shane said quietly, falling into step beside her as they walked toward the jousting grounds. “Social media's gonna social media. That’s just some cowardly asshole sitting in Mommy’s basement a thousand miles away. Focus on what’s going on here, King.” He handed her a comm.
“I know.” Charlie placed the comm in her ear while she kept her eyes forward, scanning the crowd that parted around their small group.
Viv and Rowan walked ahead, carefully keeping their distance.
Viv and Maddie spoke non-stop. Charlie figured they were trying to craft a public statement. “Doesn't mean I have to like it.”
“Nobody does.” Shane's jaw was tight. “But that's the job.”
The jousting grounds came into view—a large oval arena ringed with wooden barriers and tiered seating already filling with spectators. Colorful banners snapped in the breeze. The smell of horses and hay mixed with funnel cake and roasted turkey legs.
Charlie's tactical brain kicked in automatically. Two main entrances. Emergency exits at the north and south ends. Crowd density higher than she'd like. Too many variables.
Ben appeared at her elbow, and her pulse jumped before she could stop it.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
“Hey.” Charlie found herself smiling despite everything—Duke's ambush, the social media storm, the professional voice in her head screaming that she needed to focus now more than ever.
But he was so close their shoulders almost brushed. She could smell cedar and forge smoke still clinging to him.
“Hell of a morning,” Ben said.
“That's one way to put it.”
“How are they holding up?”
Charlie glanced ahead at Viv and Rowan. “Rowan's furious. Viv's...” Charlie paused. “She's putting on a brave face, but she's pretty shaken. Can't blame her.” Charlie's hand drifted unconsciously toward her sidearm. “Duke knew exactly what he was doing.”
“Yeah.” Ben's voice hardened. “He did.”
They walked in silence for a moment. The crowd noise swelled around them—laughter, music from a nearby stage, vendors hawking their wares. Normal Ren Faire sounds. But nothing felt normal.
“Charlie.” Ben's voice was low enough that only she could hear. “Are you okay?”
The question caught her off guard. She was supposed to be the one checking on everyone else. Making sure Viv was safe. Making sure the perimeter was secure. Making sure—
“I'm fine,” she said automatically.
Ben gave her a look that said he didn't believe her for a second.
“Really,” Charlie insisted. “I'm just—” She stopped, unsure how to finish that sentence. Just what? Distracted by you? Worried that I’m going to get someone hurt? Feeling like everything's spinning out of control?
Ben's hand found hers just for a second, a brief squeeze of reassurance before he let go.
It was enough to steady her.
“We're almost there,” Shane said. “Charlie, you're in the Queen's section with Viv. I'll be mobile, coordinating with Faire security. Ben—”
“I'll be with them,” Ben said. “Rowan might need help with the armor between rounds. I don’t think either of us trusts Duke to squire right now.”
Charlie nodded. “Stay sharp, everyone. After that shit show at the game, the crowd's going to be keyed up.”
They reached the entrance to the jousting grounds. A handler in a stable keeper’s costume waited with three horses already saddled—one for Rowan, two for the other jousters. The animals stamped and tossed their heads, picking up on the energy of the gathering crowd.
Viv turned back to look at their group. Her queenly composure was back in place, but Charlie could see the strain around her eyes. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Rowan said. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. For a moment Viv looked alarmed, but then she softened.
“Fuck it. Everyone knows already.” She turned, grabbed Rowan’s shoulders, and kissed him, hard. “Now go get ’em, tiger. Make your queen proud.”
Charlie watched Viv take a deep breath, straighten her shoulders, and lift her chin. The transformation was remarkable—from shaken woman to commanding queen in the space of a heartbeat.
She's stronger than she looks, Charlie thought. They both are.
“Let's give them a show,” Viv said.
Maddie grinned. “You're going to be great. Both of you. Don't let Duke ruin this.”
They got to the entertainer’s entrance and Viv joined the Royal Court.
Charlie and Maddie would sneak into the box after the pageantry.
The Court filed through the entrance and the crowd's roar washed over them as Viv approached the Queen's box—a raised platform with cushioned seats and a canopy to shade them from the sun.
Scanning for threats, Charlie and Maddie skirted the inside of the ring while the Royal Herald announced the list until they stood behind Viv.
Ben stayed with Rowan and Duke near the horses, and Charlie found her gaze tracking him even as she positioned herself behind Viv's seat.
Focus, she told herself. You're on the job.
But when Ben looked up and caught her eye across the arena, that small smile just for her, focusing became the hardest thing in the world.
The Queen's box offered an excellent vantage point—Charlie could see the entire arena, both entrance gates, and most of the crowd from here. She positioned herself slightly behind and to the left of Viv's ornate chair, where she could move in any direction quickly.
Maddie stood on the other side of Viv. “The PR team wants a statement by tonight. I told them we'd have something finalized within the hour.”
"Down, girl." Viv's voice was tight despite the smile she put on for the crowd. "We'll deal with it after the joust."
Charlie's eyes swept the crowd. Families with kids waving foam swords. Couples in elaborate costumes. Groups of college-aged fans wearing homemade Embersworn tabards. Most seemed excited, festive. But there was an undercurrent now—people whispering, phones out, fingers pointing.
At Viv. At Rowan.
Shane's voice crackled in Charlie's earpiece. "King, you copy?"
Charlie touched the small comm unit. "Copy."
"I've got eyes on the north entrance. Faire security's doubled up at all access points. They turned away two people in Caidansworn costumes already. Stay alert."
"Roger that."
Down in the arena, handlers were preparing the horses.
Rowan stood with his mount—a massive gray gelding with white socks that must have been at least sixteen hands high—running a hand down its neck.
He'd traded out his chain mail for plate mail.
Duke had changed into his squire costume—Caiden's colors, dark leather and forest green.
He carried Rowan's lance with easy confidence, spinning it once like a showman before planting it upright in the sand.
The crowd noticed. A ripple of reaction—some cheers, some boos.
Charlie's jaw clenched. She hated that Viv had been exposed on her watch. But on a personal level, it pissed her off how he'd just blown up Rowan and Viv's privacy on a livestream.
Duke waved and blew kisses at the queen's ladies-in-waiting, all charm and swagger.
"That son of a bitch," Maddie muttered.
Viv said nothing, but her hands gripped the armrests of her chair.
Down below, Rowan and Duke exchanged words. Charlie couldn't hear them, but body language said enough. Rowan's shoulders were stiff. Duke's gestures were expansive, apologetic. Playing the peacemaker for anyone watching.
Ben stayed close to Rowan, a solid presence. Charlie saw him say something to Duke—brief, sharp—and Duke stepped back with raised hands. Message received.
Good.
Before mounting, Rowan ran a hand along the horse's barrel and slid his fingers briefly under the girth strap—a quick, practiced check. Satisfied, he nodded to the handler and swung up onto the gray with the ease of someone who'd done it before.
Then Duke stepped in. Charlie couldn't hear what he said, but his body language was all performance—playing to the nearby crowd as he reached down and tugged the girth strap with a showman's flourish.
Rowan looked down at him with an expression Charlie couldn't read from this distance.
Duke stepped back and presented the lance with an elaborate bow.
Her eyes found Ben across the arena. He was watching Duke, not the crowd.
Focus, she told herself. You're on the job.
But she filed it away.
The herald—a barrel-chested man in crimson and gold—stepped to the center of the arena and raised a brass horn. Three short blasts silenced the crowd.
“Good people!” His voice boomed across the grounds. “Welcome to the Grand Tournament! Today, brave knights shall test their valor in the lists, for the honor of our gracious Queen Vivienne!”
The crowd roared. Viv stood and waved, every inch the regal monarch despite everything.
Charlie scanned faces in the front rows, looking for anyone who appeared too focused, too intense, too still. But everyone seemed caught up in the pageantry.
“Our first challenger,” the herald continued, “is Sir Aldric of The Embersworn, defender of the realm, champion of the people!”
Rowan mounted and rode his horse to the center of the arena. The gray gelding pranced slightly, showing off. Rowan sat tall in the saddle, his armor gleaming, one hand raised to acknowledge the cheers.
He looked every inch a king.
Charlie's professional assessment noted his posture, his control of the horse, the way the armor moved. Everything looked right.
So why did her instincts keep screaming that something was wrong?
“Attending Sir Aldric,” the herald called, “is his loyal squire, Caiden Bramble!”
Duke jogged into view, carrying the lance. He performed an elaborate bow that got laughs from the crowd, then presented the weapon to Rowan with a flourish.