Page 1 of Lady Knight and the Thief

1

A Joust, M’lady

Thecrowd'sclamorpulsedthrough 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 wasshewho 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 bannersbefore 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 specificallyunattractive, 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 givinghera 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 lessher.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 crowdroaredwith 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.