Lady Knight and the Thief

1. A Joust, M’lady

A Joust, M’lady

The crowd's clamor pulsed through Cypress as she settled into the saddle.

She tightened the straps on her chestplate, then those around her ribs.

Her braid was tucked securely down the back of her armor, concealing her identity and sex.

Oh, what the royal boys would do if they knew it was she who had bested them.

Citizens of Grethnah were as raucous as always, cheering each match with wild enthusiasm. It was infectious, but behind her helmet, Cypress didn’t need to stifle her grin.

Cypress had already unseated three opponents, all sons of some noble house, proud in their saddles, waving banners before their bouts. Cypress simply waited atop her powerful horse—Ember, the spiteful white mare—clad in blackened armor. Patient. Silent. Unbowed.

Behind her, the flags of Grethnah and House Blackthorne flew, marking her allegiance and the favor she bore.

Grethnah 's banner displayed the griffin—a symbol of unity between human lands and Faerie. Though, Cypress couldn’t recall the last sighting of one of the mighty beasts soaring over the mountains.

Throughout this year’s joust, Cypress could not help but notice a distinct lack of attendees and competitors from the Fair Folk.

Not a single banner or flag of the noble houses of the Wylds was flown.

Ordinarily, the Fair Folk also joined in the celebrations for the Crown Prince Cade’s name day. In previous years, their knights would often go home with the winner’s cup, the loser’s armor, and horse.

Cypress took another steadying breath and prepared herself to unseat her next opponent. Through the narrow slits of her helmet, Cypress examined her opponent. Gerold of Mothme’r would be her fourth bout, and the last of the day.

Gerold rode a massive horse on his side of the lists, though Ember matched the stallion’s size. His silver armor gleamed across the field, spotless and flawless as if just forged. Cypress noted the improper fit if Gerold's armor, how it rode up on his neck, and pinched under his arms.

The Mothme’r family oversaw one of the richest estates and was closely tied to the crown.

Gerold, the baron's fourth and youngest son, likely felt he had something to prove.

He had tried to steal Cypress away the previous night at yet another ball for Prince Cade.

Cypress couldn't wait for this all to be over.

She loved the thrill of a joust, but the rest of it Cypress could do without.

And, there would still be a masquerade to get through at the end of the season.

While Gerold wasn’t specifically unattractive, Cypress wasn’t even remotely interested in his advances.

At the Ball, Gerold had attempted to draw her into the dark shadows of the maze under the guise of a tour for the lady.

How he planned on giving her a tour when she lived within the Keep; and he did not.

Cypress’s rebuke had soured the male’s face in such a way she would never forget.

None of the noble families knew the captain of the Prince’s guard was a woman, much less her. While in public, Cypress was known as the sister of Captain Cy, often seen wearing a sword at her hip, rumored to have learned the art of combat from her brother.

But here, in the arena, Cypress could sit tall and proud atop her horse.

She could unseat the belligerent noblemen that drove her within a hairsbreadth of madness.

Cypress wasn’t one of the noblewomen; she hadn't come from an affluent family like some of her division. She’d clawed her way through training to become a knight. Then, finally, Captain.

And now, she’d get to unhorse yet another of the pompous asses.

Cypress signaled to the Knight Marshal she was ready and accepted the lance from the handler. Then she settled it into the sweet spot of her breastplate and balanced it upright.

Gerold did the same.

Cypress took a breath, listening to the wind and screaming crowd.

The King’s flag dropped with a blare of brass. Cypress urged her horse forward, gripping tight to steady her lance.

Ember moved gracefully into an easy canter. The rumble of hooves and horse breath echoed in Cypress’s helmet. The crowd screamed, chanted the riders' names.

She focused only on the lance cradled in her arm and her target.

Gerold lowered his lance. Cypress waited a heartbeat longer before she lowered hers and tilted her body into the strike.

The lance exploded with force, the wood splintering into mere sawdust as Gerold left his saddle. Cypress didn’t see him hit the ground before her horse was at the other end of the lists.

The crowd roared with applause.

Cypress flung her shattered lance to the handler and steered her horse around the arena, bowing in thanks. Court ladies hurled roses to the famed Captain of the Prince's guard—never glimpsed beneath the blackened helmet.

Cypress’s identity was a closely guarded secret. Only the Royals, her handmaiden, and her second in command knew her face.

To the outside world, Captain Cy was the brooding, quiet head of the Crown Prince’s guard, who was always watching but rarely seen. No one looked twice at Captain Cy’s sister, the dark-haired dame who was often found mere feet away from Prince Cade with the watchful gaze of a griffin.

Cypress rode out of the arena and toward her tent, where a groom would take her horse to be cooled down.

People lined the pathways out of the arena, clamoring to help the famed Knights in any way they could.

Cypress said nothing to any of the ladies who threw flowers at her in an attempt to gain the favor of the Prince’s Guard.

Cypress liked companionship—lords and ladies alike—but her identity was a meticulous dance of manipulation in public. Thus, she ignored citizens who congratulated her on her victory as she walked to the tent.

The realms had been peaceful since before Cypress’ birth, but even so, the king was relentless in his efforts to keep his son safe.

Prince Cade was a popular man, particularly with the ladies at court who vied for his attention.

Cypress often rolled her eyes at the ladies throwing themselves at his feet in the hopes of one day becoming Queen.

It was a pity none of them understood the court would carefully select the next queen with no hint of love being involved, and that Cade liked to play with his food. Which is exactly what the ladies of Grethnah were to the Prince.

Mere playthings and objects to devour until the day his bride was named.

Finally, the dark fabric of Cypress’s tent came into view. A groom was waiting, leaning against the hitching post at the front of the tent. She was relieved to see that the tent provided enough shade for the groom to avoid sun sickness.

Cypress nodded her thanks to the groom as she dismounted and handed over Ember’s reins.

Then, without a word, she threw open the curtain to the tent and strode into the dark interior.

Despite the heat of the day, the interior of Cypress’s tent was dark and cool, though sparsely decorated.

There was a cot to one side. Opposite, a small desk stood, cluttered with a book and a candlestick left haphazardly. Cypress was not one to fuss about the exact placement of her things. Not like Prince Cade did.

Cypress delighted in disturbing the Prince’s peace as much as she was steadfast in her role of his protector.

The sun had risen early today, filling the air with glorious heat that seeped through her armor, and Cypress was beyond ready to remove it. High noon in summer was not ideal for jousting in full plate, but the Prince’s wishes ruled, especially on his name day.

Aalis, her handmaiden, waited in a partitioned section, hands clasped around a drying cloth and fresh dress was laid atop the closed chest holding the rest of Cypress's clothes.

“You did well today, Captain.”

“Thank you, Aalis. Did you happen to see Gerold after his unhorsing?” Cypress asked, giving the handmaiden a sly smile.

“No, though I imagine his brothers were there to commiserate with him,” Aalis said, beginning to unbuckle Cypress’ armor.

Cypress chuffed a laugh. “You don’t think they’re still sour, do you?”

“Oh, I know they are, you’ve bested the Mothme’r boys every year now,” Aalis said while removing a piece of the armor.

Piece by piece, the heavy plate dropped away.

Even if the Mothme’r sons did not know Captain Cy was a woman, their pride still suffered being bested.

And that was precisely why Prince Cade hosted grand jousts for his name day, fiercely cheering for the Captain of his Guard–to needle them. Prince Cade reveled in the rivalry between the lesser lords at court and enjoyed watching them vie for his favor.

Because Cypress’s face was secret, she never competed in the final tournament of champions. The risk of being unmasked in front of the crowd was too great. Cypress couldn’t help but wonder who would come out on top of the tournament this year, with the Fair Folk notably absent.

Layer by layer, they removed Cypress’s armor, leaving her feeling as if she was coming up for air after exploring the deep, misty pools of Lake Avalon.

Cypress's armor had been forged for her, though it was not molded to her form.

The armor was perhaps a bit more narrow at the waist than if it were forged for a man, but it did not give ample enough room for her breasts, Cypress had to tightly bind her chest before putting the plate on.

When they were done, Aalis said, “I'll see you later,” then quickly ducked through another partition, where she arranged Cypress's armor on a stand, and then began to clean and polish the metal.

Now alone, Cypress quickly cleansed her skin with tepid water laced with herbs, a few petals from a Fire Vine blossom, and a pinch of luma powder for her complexion.

She donned the lightweight blue gown Aalis left out. Its loose sleeves tapered from upper arm to wrist, held by small silver buttons.

Most of her dresses were tailored this way. Because the sleeves were made of an almost translucent fabric, she wouldn’t overheat, but it still camouflaged the cut of her muscles– the most obvious signal that Lady Cypress wasn’t merely just a lady.

On top of the dress, she donned a thick leather belt which resembled the corsets the ladies of court would sometimes wear in the height of summer, though it was armor, not mere fashion.

The front of this one had a metal plate between layers of leather.

It wasn’t much as far as protection went, but it was more than nothing.

It would at least stop a stabbing. A lady of the court couldn’t very well go around in full armor, so the corset had been crafted for her, embossed with various vines and flowers.

Finally, Cypress quickly braided the lengths of her hair down her back once more.

Even though she tucked the ends of her hair beneath her chest plate, the locks had become extremely disheveled during her bouts.

She tied the end of the thick braid off with a small strip of leather cord and left the bathing chambers of her tent.

Cypress could still hear the revelry of the joust echoing through the valley, the air filled with the aromas of roasting meats and vegetables, and the scent of freshly baked bread from the innumerable vendors lining the field.

Despite how her stomach protested, Cypress did not indulge herself by visiting any of the stalls.

Instead, she aimed directly back up the path she’d taken not long ago atop her beast of a horse.

The Prince would have left his viewing box for a short while during the intermission of jesters between rounds of the bouts. The upcoming ones were a few of the lesser houses.Her second, Lieutenant Oswald, was with Prince Cade, so she was not worried.

In the earliest hours of the day, her voice lowered comically, and aided by the muffling her helmet naturally provided, Cypress had given Oswald his orders.

Truly, Cypress believed it was a miracle no one had discovered her identity yet.

She had been serving as the Captain of the Prince's Guard for several years now, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

All of the men in her guard had much deeper voices than Cypress could ever hope of imitating.

If the rest of the Prince Guard knew Lady Cypress and Captain Cy to be one and the same, none had mentioned it.

Cypress pulled back the curtain for the Prince’s tent, her eyes adjusting to the much darker interior after a moment.

Finding no one inside, Cypress aimed for the small chaise lounge situated along one of the walls and resigned herself to a little light reading while she waited for the Prince and Oswald to return.

Prince Cade’s tent was decorated much more thoroughly than her own, with various trinkets and items from the castle situated on every surface.

Gold candelabras waited for nightfall on the desk.

A large copper tub was placed on the far wall, on a raised platform beneath which a fire could be lit.

The embers were used to keep the bath warm.

Cypress shook her head and flipped through the pages of the book until she found where she’d last left off.

She couldn’t fathom making a servant haul enough water to her tent, either all the way from the Keep, or from the nearby creek.

Either option would be quite the trek to fill a tub of this size.

And let alone the fact that Cade requested it be filled each night for a fortnight.

There were some things about royalty she would never understand.