Chapter Two #2
Before I knew it, it was time for the big finale of the chess match.
A pirate, dressed all in black except for a red leather vest, drew his rapier as the rest of the players scattered to the edges of the board.
His opponent, a massive blond man wearing a kilt, knee-high leather boots, and not much else, hefted a gigantic two-handed sword, and the two men circled each other menacingly.
It was a thrilling sight, or it would have been if I weren’t related to both of these men.
“Is this the same fight from when I was a kid?”
Stacey nodded. “They changed it once—back when your mom and Mitch got together, maybe? I don’t know what happened, but the new choreography didn’t stick. They were right back to this one the next year.”
“Aren’t they getting a little old for this?”
She shushed me. “Bite your tongue.” But the grin on her face said that she agreed with me.
How could she not? If I was feeling old these days, these guys were ancient.
The guy in the kilt was Mitch Malone; he and my mom got together right before I started college.
He was a few years younger than Mom, but he still had to be in his late thirties or so.
Same with the pirate—Emily’s husband, Simon.
Back in the day this fight had been epic: lots of swordplay that devolved into a fistfight, culminating in Simon flipping the much larger man over his shoulder.
But that was some ten years ago. Surely they’d changed it, modified the moves into something a little less strenuous.
They had not. As much as I didn’t want to, I couldn’t help but notice Mitch’s back muscles rippling as he swung that massive sword, and the way Simon slid to his knees, his spine arching, rapier coming up to block the blow.
Before long the rapier went flying, and the broadsword clanged to the ground as the pirate sprang to his feet, ducking a wildly thrown punch.
Simon brought his hands up, blocking another blow from Mitch, before twisting the larger man’s arm, turning his back, and using that momentum to flip the larger man over his shoulder.
It was an impressive move, with Mitch’s kilt flying in the wind.
He sprang up almost immediately, and the grappling continued until the fight ended with Simon on his knees, Mitch holding a knife to his throat.
“I yield!” Simon’s voice was a frustrated growl that, again, would have been hot if he weren’t married to my aunt.
There was a moment where they broke character, as Mitch extended a hand to help Simon to his feet and they exchanged a quick grin, full of satisfaction at a stunt successfully pulled off.
Yeah, they were never going to change that fight. Male egos and all that.
“Feel better?” Stacey asked me as the chess match came to its inevitable end.
I hated to admit it, but I did. I was still mad at Emily, but I was also mad at myself.
At Teenage Caitlin who’d let a stupid boy take away this part of what made my family so much fun.
And of course I was mad at Alexander Wright, for being that stupid boy.
But now that I was here, in this place that I loved, with family and friends around, it was a bit easier to put all that anger in a little box and lock it away.
So as the show ended and the players milled around, interacting with patrons, I made my way across the field, back to Emily’s side. I could be angry later. Right now, it was almost time for the joust, and we had a schedule to keep.
—
To Emily’s credit, she started out Sunday morning with an apology.
“I swear, I didn’t know!” Emily’s eyes were huge in her face, begging me to believe her, but her head was still as a statue as the hair braider did her work.
We were in the exact same place we’d been the day before—in front of the dressing tent, our hair half-braided. I wanted to shake my head at her, but Nina had already threatened me twice this morning. So I settled for a glare. “Doesn’t matter,” I said.
“It kind of does,” Nina said, not unkindly. “If all you said was that you didn’t want the Sword Bros here.”
I scowled. “Whose side are you on?”
Emily seized on Nina’s logic. “You said you’d do the Faire with us as long as we didn’t hire the Sword Bros.
And we didn’t. You should have specified that there was a particular Sword Bro you didn’t want to see.
” She paused, thinking. “I don’t think that would have helped, anyway.
I wouldn’t have made the connection that the Shakespeare on Demand guy used to be one of the Sword Bros. ”
And as if on cue, here came said Bro himself.
I groaned and tried to roll my eyes, but Nina clamped her hands on either side of my head, holding me still.
I could do nothing but sit there in my slightly bedraggled pink gown, while Alexander Wright approached as though he had every right to be there.
I pressed my lips together hard and told my heart to stop racing.
He didn’t look like the Sword Bro that I’d fallen for all those years ago.
For one thing, his costume was totally different.
Nina was right—those Sword Bro pants really had been something else.
Alex’s current costume was the same as yesterday: a forest-green jerkin over a loose white shirt, wide brown belt around his waist, and matching green breeches.
A little more relaxed than his Sword Bro days, this was obviously his new look.
His hair was longer, curling against the back of his neck, and he wore just a little facial scruff that couldn’t quite be called a beard.
He looked like freaking Robin Hood out here.
Someone could tell me next that he slept in the trees and I would believe it.
The Alex I’d fallen for back then had been provocative and boyish—twenty years old to my almost eighteen. But the boy had grown up. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader. Now he looked like a man.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but the gesture was useless; closing my eyes wouldn’t block out Alex’s voice. I blinked them open as Alex sketched a jaunty salute in Emily’s direction.
“Hey, Your Majesty. Congrats on your ascension to Queen.”
Emily snorted without moving her head, an impressive feat. “Like I had a choice. This is what happens when you’re married to the guy in charge.” She motioned to her voluminous skirts.
“A change in the monarchy at Faire is a big deal,” Alex said. “You’re the start of a whole new era.”
That seemed a bit much, but the braider finishing up Emily’s hair nodded sagely, even as Emily waved away the words.
“Not me,” she said. “Think of me as Lady Jane Grey. I’m going to rule for a few days and that’s it.
” She bit the inside of her cheek as she thought about what she just said.
“Though hopefully I’ll get through this with my head intact.
Anyway, I’m just filling in and doing my best.”
“Maybe Chris can drop by? Give you some pointers.”
“Oh, no.” Emily shook her head. “She retired in real life too. Moved away in the spring. You know the bookstore she owned, downtown? It’s mine now; she sold it to me.”
“Wow, yeah,” he said. “I remember that place. Congrats again.”
Emily’s smile was less ironic now, her cheeks pinking from the compliment, as Alex turned to me.
No. Don’t turn to me. God, I didn’t want anything to do with this.
With him. But here we were, and I was stuck in this chair with nowhere to go.
My heart pounded in my throat and my ears were full of a low buzzing.
But apparently none of my discomfort showed. “Caitlin.” His smile widened, softened, his eyes full of emotion that I didn’t want from him. “It’s been…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Probably remembering the last time we’d spoken—I know I was.
That summer after high school had been full of hope.
And not just from Alex; I’d reconnected with my dad too, who’d been absent for most of my life.
I’d gone into my first semester of college with a full heart, only to have all that hope drain out slowly over the course of the fall.
First Alex had lost interest, followed closely by my father.
By Christmas, they were both gone from my life, like they’d never been there in the first place.
It had been a terrible autumn, one of the worst of my life. And now Alex was back, standing here in front of me like I owed him a conversation. I didn’t.
“A while,” I finally said, all but spitting the words in his direction.
“It’s been a while.” I could only glance up at his face for a moment before I had to slide my eyes away, focusing just south of his chin.
There was a leather cord around his neck, dark brown, peeking out from the open collar of his shirt.
I blinked, and the cord went blurry. My eyes felt wet.
Oh, hell no. I was not going to cry. Not only would my face get all puffy, but I’d already cried enough tears over this man. He didn’t deserve any more.
“Yeah.” He let his fist bounce off the side of his thigh, an idle, nervous gesture. He was uncomfortable too. Good.
But he’d made a friend in Emily, and if I knew one thing about my aunt, it was that she’d never met an awkward situation she didn’t try to improve. “I didn’t realize you used to be one of the Sword Bros. Simon was sorry to hear the group had broken up.”
Alex seized on the subject change as he turned to Emily. “We had a good few years there, but we just couldn’t make it last. You know, even the Beatles only lasted a decade.”
“True.” Emily tried to nod, but the braider behind her grumbled and she stilled instantly. “And how’s the new show going? What’s it called again?”