Judd went to shift and got a clip over his head by Giordi. “Hey!”

  “Stop moving and let me fix this shirt.” Giordi tied the laces at Judd’s wrists then loosened the ones at his throat. “There, that seems to be the right blend.” Judd arched his neck and went to tug on his collar. “No touching!”

  “Feels too loose.” Judd complained.

  “Showing off a little neck, when it’s a handsome neck like yours, isn’t a bad thing.” Giordi circled Judd, eyeing off his complete outfit.

  “I have a handsome neck?”

  “Not too scrawny and not too thick.” Giordi murmured.

  “Oh…thank you.” Judd sighed. “I wish this evening was over.”

  “You haven’t even gone yet.”

  “Dancing and eating and drinking after death, murder and more death…”

  “The only reason they can host something like a feast after a nearly disastrous brawl in the Arena is because they don’t discuss things like that.” Giordi stood in front of him. “I don’t think you’ll have any need to start up conversation. Almost everyone will be asking you questions so all you need do is answer and stick to safe subjects.”

  “Such as?”

  “If they’re a woman, compliment her outfit as I’m sure it’s the real reason she accepted the invitation.”

  “And I suppose I talk about the weather with men?”

  Giordi snorted. “No. Talk about the graciousness of your host…especially if he’s within hearing.”

  Judd’s fingers curled up and his jaw tightened. “Graciousness of my host…I’d like to show him just how gracious…”

  “Hey!” Giordi clapped his hands in front of Judd’s face. “Focus, please! If you want to get out of Fort Mavour without offending one of the most popular knights of Terra…”

  “The most despicable, you mean.”

  “That too,” Giordi folded his arms, “you’re going to have to be polite and survive this evening. Even though you’ve killed the final monster on your knighthood quest list, you are not yet a knight until you have been ordained so by Sir Rylan or King Rocheveron which means, unless either one of them turn up tonight, Sir Donimede outranks you by a distance as great as the wall is long.”

  Judd sighed, his shoulders dropping. “…I know.”

  “Look on the bright side…Willower will be there and if you ever need to escape, ask her to dance,” Giordi saw Judd’s expression, “unless you want to escape her too.”

  “All of it,” Judd tousled his hair with his hands and eyed the looking glass, “I just want to escape every aspect of it right now.” He stepped back then turned to Giordi. “Well…do I at least look the part?”

  “Just one moment,” Giordi went to the concealed door and rapped on it, “Aalis, we need your keen eye.”

  “Because she’s a woman?” Judd asked tersely as Aalis called that she was coming.

  “No, because Aalis has proven she has considerable taste.” Giordi winked then ushered Aalis forward. “Judd is ready for the feast.”

  Aalis smiled, her eyes brightening.

  “Honest opinion Aalis.” Judd warned.

  “Honestly? My opinion is that you look rather handsome.”

  Judd felt like retorting that he wasn’t as handsome as an archer but bit that bitter sentiment back in his mouth before it had the released potential to turn the day, which was supposed to be a triumphant and joyful, from bad to worse. He cleared his throat and turned around.

  “You did a wonderful job on the clothing. Thank you.” He patted the tooled leather vest. “I like this in particular and the white shirt is elegant but not too flowery or pretty.”

  “I hoped that would be the case.” Aalis nodded.

  Judd sighed. “Well…I suppose I can only delay the inevitable for so long…come on Giordi.”

  “I’m right behind you, Judd LaMogre,” Giordi followed him to the door, “have fun packing, Verne!”

  Aalis watched them go then closed the door. She turned and went through the door into the master bedroom, making sure to shut that door as well. She glanced at the bulge behind the curtain and put her hands on her hips.

  "You can come out now. They are gone."

  Verne dragged the curtain aside and folded her arms, glaring at Aalis. “I cannot believe you talked me into this.” She muttered.

  “Neither can I.” Aalis eyed Verne’s outfit. Gone were the slim fitting trousers and leggings, the tunics that helped hide Verne’s more subtle womanly curves and the knee high boots she preferred to wear. Verne was wearing the gown Aalis had purchased from the seamstresses, Laurea and Lenona. They had delivered it to the fort, pressed and prepped for wear and Aalis had hung it up to avoid it creasing.

  Verne was inclined to wear duller colours, muted and subtle but in the gown of blue, her eyes went from lovely to luminous. As she moved, the white silk of the underskirt shifted and rustled softly, the hem moving in gentle, rolling waves. The white sleeves might have looked a little plain and too similar to Verne’s usual shirt preference but the sweeping blue split over sleeves not only dressed it up, it helped disguise one of the aspects of her body she was most self conscious about. Her toned, muscular arms were hidden by the drapes and flowing fabric. Another part of Verne’s anatomy that she lamented was her lack of bust or shape of any kind when it came to her torso.

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  Aalis approached her and slapped her hands away when she tried to grasp it. “Let the boning mould to your shape.”

  “What shape?” Verne grumbled. “I’m a plank of wood! A masculine plank of wood! I mean, look at me!” She stepped back and her eyes dared Aalis to lie to her. “What do I look like? Honestly!”

  “You look like Verne in a dress,” Aalis admitted and Verne dropped her hands, defeated, “however, the dress is only part of it.” She held up the curling tongs.

  “Oh no,” Verne shook her head, “my stepmother tried that and I looked ridiculous!”

  “Your stepmother might have been trying a little too hard,” Aalis patted the chair, “let me try this, Verne and if you hate it, you do not have to go to the feast.”

  Verne sighed and sank onto the chair. “Why am I doing this?”

  “We both know why.”

  Verne’s mouth turned down and she pulled a face. “You stay here, Verne…you’ve got nothing decent to wear anyway.”

  “I was going to say it is because there are so many guests at fort Mavour that no one will notice another and you will be able to make an appearance without being unduly noticed…but defying Giordi’s mockery of you will work as well. Now hold still.”

  Verne made herself rigid as Aalis applied the curling tongs to her uneven hair. “He just…how can you care so much about someone and get so riled up at them at the same time?”

  Aalis locked a curling tong into place then picked up another and worked on the other side, shifting left and right to have the hair curled in half the time.

  “I take it what you experienced in the nomad camp has not diminished?” She asked gently.

  “Nope.” Verne swallowed and went to look down but reminded herself to remain still. “Part of me, a very small part that still believes in fantasy and true love and all that girly dung, hopes I will walk into that hall and dazzle everyone…but the larger and much louder part of me is going, they are going to recognise you and expose you and mock you…”

  “While I am not sure that they will not recognise you, not until I am finished, they will not expose or mock you, not those who care about you.”

  “Judd might not but you heard Giordi. He likes to poke fun.”

  “That is because he is a male friend being light-hearted with another male friend.” Aalis corrected, moving back and forth. “It is unfair to judge his conduct towards you when your fa?ade is essentially a lie.”

  Verne tapped her teeth together. “If I wasn’t hooked up to these scalding tongs, I’d storm out right about now.”

  “I am sorry, Verne. I did not mean to upset you…only encourage you.”

  A single black ringlet dangled before Verne’s eyes, an alarming reminder of her childhood and how she seemed to fail every test of womanhood. “Aalis…”

  “No.”

  “You don’t know what I was going to say.”

  “Did it have anything to do with giving up and bailing out?”

  Verne rolled her eyes. “You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”

  Giordi walked Judd to the grand hall where the candlelight was dancing across the stained glass windows that looked into the large room. There were carved stone seats set in front of the windows but lower down. Giordi was about to walk into the room when he realised he was alone. He turned and saw Judd sitting on one of the seats.

  “Judd?”

  “Give me a moment.”

  Giordi studied the young man who seemed to bearing the entire responsibility of the death of a Maul on his shoulders. Unfortunately neither sense nor reason would talk him out of it. Only time and rear reflection would allow Judd to see the event in a clearer light. At the moment, all he could see was his own culpability and it was trying to crush him.

  Before Giordi reached the point of urging him up and in, Judd slapped his knees and stood up.

  “Right…I think I’m ready.” Judd lifted his chin and strode towards the open doors. The herald who had announced the bout in the Arena was at the door and he called for quiet before introducing Judd LaMogre, champion of the Arena, slayer of minotaur, goblins and orthros and their guest of honour. Giordi held back a little to allow Judd to shine and slipped into the hall as Judd moved further in, applause and cheers greeting him.

  A surge of eager guests tried to shake Judd’s hand at once and he did his best to greet all of them, thanking them for their kind words. Captain Chael, Arsch and Kipre saluted him with their right hands striking their chest as he walked by while Roust applauded loudly and grunted which Giordi guessed, by the following grunts of the other guards, was a high compliment by the brawny, tattooed sword master.

  Before Judd could be completely swarmed by the other guests, Sir Donimede stepped forward.

  “There he is! The man of the hour who fulfilled his knighthood quest in my Arena…step forth Judd LaMogre and be recognised!” Giordi noticed that Donimede’s arm went over Judd’s shoulder and he waved to the guests while Judd stood with a quiet confidence and nodded to the crowd several times. “A remarkable spectacle, LaMogre, slayer of monsters.”

  “Thank you, Sir Donimede.” Judd bowed, shifting out from beneath Donimede’s possessive arm. “I am grateful to you for all you have done.”

  “Indeed,” Donimede nodded, “I am pleased that my Arena served you so well.”

  Giordi wondered if Donimede was going to choke on his words.

  “I am incredibly honoured and humbled by this grand feast,” Judd turned towards Lady Jocasa who smiled warmly at him, “Lady Jocasa,” he bowed to her, “thank you for having faith in me.”

  “Judd LaMogre…or should that be Sir Judd LaMogre?” Lady Jocasa said in a provocative tone.

  “Alas, despite LaMogre fulfilling all the requirements of his knighthood quest,” Sir Donimede joined his wife’s side and Giordi noticed he puffed his chest out a little, “he is not yet a knight.”

  “You are a knight, my dear,” Lady Jocasa returned lightly, “could you not do the honours? I am sure there can be no objections as it would befit this young man’s remarkable triumph today and witnessed by these illustrious guests.”

  Donimede coughed as his daughter grasped his arm. “Father?”

  “I…ahem…I would not want to steal the honour from Sir Rylan, who was the knight who put this all in place.” Donimede hastened to excuse, and several guests were unable to contain their groans.

  “Sir Donimede is entirely correct,” Judd said surprisingly, “and the proof of my monster kills must be authenticated by an archdeacon or the Bishop himself before I can kneel before Sir Rylan and accept my knighthood. However,” he knelt before Lady Jocasa, “tonight, you have made me feel like a knight, Lady Jocasa…a privilege I will never forget.”

  Giordi folded his arms as half the guests sighed in admiration and the other half applauded. “I have nothing left to teach him.”

  Judd stood up. “Sir Donimede, may I take a turn with your lovely daughter?”

  “Certainly.”

  Giordi couldn’t be sure if Donimede wanted Judd as a son-in-law despite despising him or if he was just eager to make him leave his side. Judd turned to Willower who looked as radiant as a bride, her smile unguarded and her eyes sparkling and bright. Judd held out his arm to her and she slipped hers through it, a ripple of murmured gossip beginning to pulse out from the couple. No doubt by the end of the evening, there would be wagers made as to the colour of the bridesmaid dresses of their wedding and the name of their first born child.

  Giordi drifted around the great hall, casually sampling the delicacies and taking a goblet filled with deep purple wine, sipping its contents, allowing himself to savour the flavour of a wine that Lady Jocasa had deliberately chosen for the evening. Giordi could tell it was excellent quality and wondered just how Donimede would feel when he discovered the cost. As he moved about he kept his eye on Judd, watching as he interacted with lords, ladies, adoring sons and flirtatious daughters, Giordi marvelled at how far he had come. He didn’t have quite the same opulence in clothing or overly polished flair but if anything, it gave Judd a sincerity that was lacking in almost everyone else in the room, especially those of noble birth. He was genuine and polite, the earning of his knighthood going hand in hand with the cost of it, grounding him from any arrogance associated with others of the same calibre and even some not of the same calibre but who thought themselves greater.

  Willower was a beautiful escort, perhaps a little fulsome but her joy was so genuine that any clinginess was put down to her cup of joy running over.

  And it occurred to Giordi that he was not the centre of attention. Giordi had always been the incandescent arrival with golden cherub curls, handsome features, including dimples and winning ways. Yet tonight, Judd, with his perhaps average looks and slightly less polished manners, shone with warm brightness.

  “You’ve come a long way, Judd LaMogre.” Giordi mused, sipping his wine. “A long, long way.”