ASIN: B07HWS8L29
Blurb
Knights are supposed to rescue damsels. That’s the natural
order. So when Nathair, a knight in training, finds himself rescued by the
princess he’s supposed to save, he’s annoyed. And when the princess proves she
can fight like a knight? Well, that’s enough for a boy to think about a career
change.
Excerpt
One
Nathair
hadn’t planned to end his last day at Sir Lancelot’s Academy for Knights
getting caught cheating on his final examination. Especially since the cheating
had been a misunderstanding. The incriminating piece of parchment was still in
his best friend’s extended hand. General Baldwin loomed over Nathair in his
emerald uniform, one eyebrow arched in disappointment.
“Sir, I
wasn’t—” Nathair started, standing at his
desk.
“Don’t
even try, Locksbay.” General Baldwin held up a hand to silence him. “The
situation is clear enough. I’ve caught your friend Tristan red-handed passing
you that piece of paper with the correct Numeracy answers. Cheating is not only
against the academy rules, but the Knights’ Honor Code as well.”
Ouch. That hurts.
Nathair wasn’t a cheater. He was an average student maybe, but never a cheater.
He bit down the remark and ignored his fellow cadets whispering and giggling
behind his back. They leaned forward on their wooden desks, heads turning from
him to the general like in a game of stool-ball. Many cadets would enjoy seeing
the only russet-skinned boy at the academy being publicly scolded.
Tristan
of Greystone stood and bowed to the general. His blond hair swished about his shoulders.
“General Baldwin, it’s my fault. It was my idea to help Nathair. I knew he
needed help with Numeracy, and I thought to pass him the answers. He didn’t ask
me anything.”
That
was true, and swyve. Tristan excelled at many things—he was the academy’s top
cadet—but persuading people was his most honed skill. His confident tone,
reassuring smile, and bright blue eyes could soothe the most inveterate
criminal into turning himself in.
General
Baldwin waved a dismissive hand. “You can sit down, Greystone, and keep going
with your examination, but I’ll take fifty points off your final score for
breaking the rules.”
Tristan
did as told, casting an apologetic glance at Nathair.
General
Baldwin took Nathair’s test and scanned it. “Let’s see why you wanted Greystone’s
intervention.”
When
his’ gray eyebrows shot up, Nathair smelled trouble. He didn’t need the
mind-reading power of the mind-wrens to guess what the general was thinking.
The bell echoed in the high-vaulted ceiling of the Training Hall, and Nathair exhaled.
Chairs scraped back against the wooden floor.
Now he
was done for.
“Locksbay,”
General Baldwin’s voice sounded stern, “…follow me to my office.”
“Of
course, sir.” He collected his quill, parchments, and ink bottle and stuffed
them in his bag.
“Sorry,”
Tristan whispered. “I’ll wait for you here.”
With
heavy feet, Nathair followed the man who might expel him. He swallowed hard,
thinking about his mentor. What would Ewhen say when he heard about this?
Nathair shuffled behind the general along the Champions’
Corridor lined with famous knights’ suits of armor. They headed to the eastern
tower of the castle toward the mechanical winch.
Before entering the narrow cabin that would lift him
up to the third floor, Nathair hesitated. Traveling suspended by an iron cable
wasn’t his idea of a safe trip. In comparison, the clockwork stairs, despite
the grinding noise of the steps winding up, seemed safer. Nathair stepped
inside the cabin and shoved his hands in his blue cloak pockets, while the
winch coiled up with a grinding of metal against stone. From a gap between two
metal plates, he caught a glimpse of rotating wheels and pumping pistons.
Once at
the landing, Nathair trudged toward General Baldwin’s office. The oak door
closed behind them with a thud. The room had four floor-to-ceiling windows, a
high-vaulted ceiling, and a fireplace that resembled a dragon’s open jaw.
Despite the size of the room, Nathair’s chest constricted. He breathed in the
familiar smell. The musty scent of old parchments mingled with that of the
armchairs’ worn leather.
“Sit.”
General Baldwin sat on his throne-like chair.
Nathair
groaned and dropped down onto one of the stuffed chairs. No chance this would
be quick.
General
Baldwin scanned Nathair’s test, his eyes darting up and down. “You have
twenty-five points. It’s not good enough, but it’s not an excuse to cheat
either.”
He
didn’t reply. He’d rather take the blame than involve Tristan. Besides, telling
the truth wouldn’t change his score.
General
Baldwin drummed his fingers on the desk. “What happened? You were a good
student. Not the finest, but decent. This,” he gestured at the paper, “is not
what I’d have expected from you, and I’m not talking about today’s
examination.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a leather folder fat with parchments.
He unfastened the string and spread them out.
Nathair
gripped the armrests.
“I had
a look at your tests and assignments, and I’m very disappointed.” General
Baldwin flipped through the stack of papers. “In your last Wildlife and
Wild-flora test you scored an Insufficient, same thing with Music and Courteous
Conversation.”
He
shook his head. A sickening lump crawled into his stomach. Please, anything but Poetry.
“For
example, Poetry.” As General Baldwin read, his frown deepened. “Dame Puddifoot
wrote only one word about your poetic skills: hopeless. What is your obsession
with cats? Cats are all over your poems. You must love them.”
Hardly. Cat rhymed with everything: fat, hat, sat, bat, mat—the possibilities were endless.
“And I
see no extracurricular skills or activities.” He stared at Nathair.
He
wiped his hands on the trousers of his uniform and pulled back a curled strand
of his chestnut hair. Call it a hunch but breaking into Lady Guinevere’s
Damsels Academy using nothing but two knives probably wasn’t an extracurricular
skill the general would be interested in, but then someone had to release those
greasy pigs into Lady Guinevere’s dormitory. Last week, the ladies had filled
the cadets’ quivers with honey. It was only sensible that the cadets returned
the favor, and Tristan needed help to sneak into the rooms of his many
girlfriends.
“Well?”
General Baldwin prompted.
“I
don’t have much time for extra activities, sir.”
“Anyway,
I might agree that Music and Poetry aren’t essential for a knight, but an
Unsatisfactory in Swordsmanship and Defensive Strategy is inexcusable. You’ve
excelled in them until recently. Ewhen’s always praised your fighting skills
and resilience. What’s going on with you?”
He
loosened his jacket’s collar. “I…my family had problems this winter.”
“What
problems?”
“My
sister got the water-elf disease.”
General
Baldwin’s jaw dropped. “Was it serious?”
“Her
lungs were affected.” Nathair fussed with his cloak. “The healer’s fee was
exorbitant, and my mother couldn’t hire a worker for the harvest. I had to help
her.”
Not
that his mother had asked for his help. She wanted Nathair to focus on his
studies. In fact, they’d had a furious fight. Still, he’d worked tirelessly on
the field. The cuts and bruises covering his hands didn’t come from combat
practice. The hours spent plowing and tilling had taken their toll.
“Did
your mother ask for a loan?” General Baldwin asked.
“She
did.” Nathair’s eyes narrowed. “They wanted forty percent interest.”
General
Baldwin tilted his head. “What? That’s robbery. Your mother is being treated
like a witch. The reason?”
“They
said that…” Anger and shame swept through Nathair. He squirmed on the chair as
if he were sitting on hot coals. At least he would be eighteen soon and the
official owner of their land. “They don’t trust a russet-skinned woman of the
Snake clan, and she was lucky that Ewhen is our landowner. Otherwise, the
Wizarding Council would’ve already confiscated our land. Unless we pay the debt
in a month, they’ll take our farm, and my mother’s permit to stay in New
Camelot will be revoked.”
If his
mother were expelled from the city, he’d follow her into the Snake Mountains
where her people lived. New Camelot was his home. He’d been born here. All he
knew about the Snake people was that they were dark-skinned and worshiped a
half-woman, half-snake goddess. He didn’t even speak their tongue.
“I’m
not surprised. The war against the Snake people has gone on for too long—like
the war against the Saxons and the Goths, and now we’re on the edge of a war
with the Romans.” General Baldwin rose and paced. “Did you tell the
moneylenders about your father and how your mother is a hardworking,
law-abiding citizen? I guess they don’t care.” He stopped pacing. “Why didn’t
you tell me any of this? I might’ve helped.”
Nathair
scuffed his boots on the marble floor. “I thought I could handle it.”
“Pride
is a knight’s trait, but you should’ve told me. Now I can’t do anything.
Tomorrow, when the High Wizard assigns you your quest, you’ll be on your own.
Besides, I have to inform him of your attempt at cheating, which means your
quest will be harder. After the last Wizarding Council’s decree, I’m afraid
that…” He fell silent and waved a hand. “Never mind. You’ll know soon enough.”
“Even
if I fail tomorrow, I can try next year, right?” He wouldn’t graduate with
Tristan, but next year he’d study hard, and his final examination would be
better.
General
Baldwin paled. “Er…well, that’s the rule…for now.” He turned to the mantelpiece
and straightened the shield of the order of the Swan. Always brave, always faithful, always a knight, the motto read.
Those
ancient words would be written on Nathair’s shield one day, if he were ever
accepted into the order.
General
Baldwin faced Nathair, his expression grave. “I know how badly you want to be a
Swan.” His chest puffed. “The order of the Swan has the best warriors of the
kingdom. I’ve been a Swan knight since your age and fought with them for more
than thirty years, so I understand your feelings. Promise me you won’t do
anything stupid or reckless tomorrow. When the High Wizard assigns you a quest,
I want you to think carefully before accepting it.”
Nathair
rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to follow the conversation. He could
have a second chance if he failed the quest, but not if he turned it down.
Without even trying it, he could never apply to the Swans and could never be a
knight. “I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Off
you go.” General Baldwin opened the door. “Tomorrow is an important day for
you. Sleep well and get ready.”
