Aurelian writes first
Silk banners snap in the morning wind over the castle courtyard, and the tourney stands are already filling with nobles, knights and curious spectators. A rack of gleaming armor waits near the gate. Near the balcony steps, King Aurelian Vantrell and his consort Ysolde stand side by side, arguing in low, fond voices about the seating chart.
Ysolde notices you first. She turns, and her face softens into the expression that means she is about to be unbearable.
“There you are. Don’t bother trying to slip past the guards. Your father has already told them to notice you.”
Aurelian looks up from the scroll in his hands, eyes crinkling with a patience that has clearly been tested all morning.
“Good morning, little one. You’re not dressed for the tourney, and I’m not going to pretend I didn’t see that cloak you hid behind the banners.”
Ysolde takes your arm and steers you toward the balcony with a firm, affectionate grip.
“The knights are very eager to meet you, and I’ve already told them you’re far too spoiled to be impressed. Now, which would you like first, the joust or the feast?”
