Guinevere took her place on the balcony above the ballroom. The lights throughout the ballroom went dim, save for those on the balcony, and the orchestra quieted, and all eyes turned to the Promised Queen.
“I thank you for joining me today for this celebration,” Guinevere said in a clear voice, head held high. “For too long I have been quiet here at home, inactive in this city that I love. I have been an object of adoration, but no more than that. This ball is a declaration: things are changing. For me, and for us all. That is why I have not only invited the usual suspects of the societal elite, but also students and teachers from Saint Gloriana Primary School, recently subject to a horrific terrorist attack, and other dear friends and members of our community that are not usually party to such auspicious events as this. While this may serve as a culture shock to both parties, it is vital that I make this ball open to people from all parts of society, because that is the role of the Promised Queen: to be the Queen of all, not just those with power or prestige. So again, I thank you all for coming, and hope you will enjoy mingling with one another and delighting in these festivities as a shared community.
“I also announced this ball — on such short notice, and so I must commend you all for contributing to a wonderfully large crowd with so little time to prepare — in order to show this city that I am alive and well. Unharmed and, indeed, unhindered by any outside parties. I was not, in fact, abducted by this ‘Anti-Promise League’ that has been making all sorts of waves in the news.” Here, Guinevere couldn’t keep a mocking derision out of her tone, so she allowed it to come out, making light of the situation, and smiled to see several smiles and chuckles in the crowd. “They took advantage of a situation of my own making: I departed on my own adventure, under my own auspices. I have now returned, and wanted to set the record straight very clearly. For, I must confess, I had never even heard of this League of charlatans until I returned to the capital. Whoever they are, you need not fear: they clearly hold no power in our beloved kingdom, or beyond its borders. They are nothing but a group of rabble-rousers trying to make themselves appear more important than they could ever in actuality be.”
She let some laughter ripple and fade, then continued. “It is not only my pleasure to demonstrate to you my own safety, but also to announce an important discovery I made while abroad. It echoes my own story — for many were told I had been taken captive, and was being actively ransomed, when in fact I was safe and free. All of you were likewise told ten years ago that Artorius, your Promised King, was killed. But the truth is this: he is alive and well!” A murmur rippled through the crowd. “And while you may be hoping for a grand reveal, that he, too, will make an appearance at this celebration, I am afraid it is not so simple. He endeavors for his people on a mission of utmost secrecy. But I assure you, his safety has been confirmed for me, and I in turn confirm it for you. Please, look forward to his eventual return, when together, we can stand triumphant before this great city, and fulfill the Promise you have all waited for us to fulfill. The time is coming, and shall soon be at hand. Please, wait just a little while longer.”
She didn’t know how effective her saying so, without showing Artorius himself, would be, but she hoped it was enough. After ten years, she’d had enough of being the only one who believed he was still alive. Despite her conflicted feelings about what she’d learned, she did take heart knowing he was alive and out there somewhere — and she needed to let the world know. It mustn’t simply be a secret only a few shared.
See, Artorius? The people long for your return. The people want you to be alive. They want to see. So… don’t make a liar out of me. Do whatever it is you feel the need to do in secret — and then return. Show the world you aren’t dead. Show the world their Promised King still lives, and the hope of the Promise lives with us both.
Guinevere took a deep breath, composed herself, and then smiled. “And so, without further ado, let us enjoy this celebration together as a shared community, from all walks of life! Eat, drink, dance, and talk with one another. Maestro?” She turned to look at the conductor, watching and waiting for his cue before the orchestra. “You may begin.”
Applause filled the grand hall as the orchestra took up a grand overture. Lights filled the ballroom, and Guinevere descended the grand staircase, Ava at her side. There was a pounding in her heart, at having told this great crowd — who would in turn tell the rest of the city, who would in turn spread the news all over the realms — that Artorius was alive and out there somewhere. She’d worried she’d be ridiculed, scoffed at, that no one would believe her.
But the pounding in her heart quieted when she reached the dance floor, and was greeted warmly by those around her. Her mother took to the dance floor, partnered with some baron or another — as usual, making the most of the connections her status as the Promised Queen’s mother afforded her — but Guinevere resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Because those two dancing first encouraged others to do the same, and so Guinevere was spared from everyone waiting for her to take the dance floor herself.
For, indeed, as much as she loved to dance, she didn’t expect to do much dancing at this party. Grand social functions such as these had their own… frustrations that accompanied them.
But before she could worry about any of that, she was first beset by good friends, and her heart filled with cheer. For greeting her just past the bottom of the steps was her fencing instructor, the swordmaster Tycho Mayhew. A tall, willowy man of seventy-five years, he carried himself like a much younger man, with sure, confident steps and bright, keen eyes. He took Guinevere’s hand and smiled at her warmly.
“It is truly a joy to have you back, safe and sound, Guin,” he said in his warm tenor voice, a voice that Guinevere had always likened to the first rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a storm. “Captain Grants did give me a few teases as to your adventures, but they only whetted my appetite for the full story from the source. Of course, I don’t expect to hoard all your time to myself — but did I hear it right? You saw real combat?”
“I did,” Guinevere said. “I… did not do so well in the first encounter.” Her heart burned at that memory, of Saoirse’s card soldiers swiftly disarming her, making her look like a complete novice. “But I never made the same mistake again. Your training was a sure guide. Thank you.”
“I never trained you for live combat, Guin,” Tycho said with a smile. “Your successes in that arena go beyond the scope of your training, and speak to your tenacity and ability to adapt beyond the training arena. I look forward to hearing the full story in time — but I want you to know, I am very proud of you.”
Guinevere’s heart filled with light at her teacher’s praise. “Thank you,” she said, almost breathless, before composing herself. “We must talk more when we have time to ourselves. I should visit with the rest of the guests — but thank you for being here, Tycho. Let’s talk more soon.”
She headed out into the crowds, greeting everyone she came near, and accepting the greetings of all who approached her. These were the challenges of social functions and grand celebrations — everyone wanted the attention of the Promised Queen — but it was not only a challenge. Guinevere couldn’t help but take some pride in being the object of people’s attention, and she was especially glad to, for the first time in her life, have it happen on her terms, at an event she herself had set into motion. And while the social elites were often a bore at best, and infuriating at worst with their attempts to curry favor, their subtle (or not so subtle) attempts to manipulate situations to their advantage or gain information that wasn’t theirs to know, and their general arrogant preening, it was helpful for Guinevere to encounter them now and then, in situations where she held the cards, so she could get the sense of their crowd on her own terms.
And mixed in with those she didn’t much favor, were people she genuinely liked. She’d invited Rose and Teddy, and there were also the teachers and students of Saint Gloriana, but also attending were Father Dietrich and Sister Charlotte of the Chapel of the Creator’s Grace as Rose and Teddy’s guardians. There was also Abel Rethien, an up-and-coming composer whose work Guinevere was a great fan of; Cortland Harris and his wife Theodosia of their foundation Helioworks, dedicated to fostering education and interest in nautical science and exploration in the nation’s youth; Lady Margaret Abershire of the North Quarter Literature Society, of which Guinevere was an honorary member (though she’d never attended a meeting owing to her mother’s stifling oversight, she did engage in a letter correspondence with Lady Margaret, and provided funds and advice in the Society’s curation of school libraries); and numerous other members of high and “low” society whom Guinevere was genuinely fond of.
While she greeted her countless guests, she also watched across the crowds, keeping an eye on her traveling companions. Elliot and Ninian had taken to the dance floor, and the pair were a beautiful, perfect fit, gracefully floating across the floor in an elegant dance. Sheena was off to the side, surrounded by a whole host of young men clearly asking her to dance, and she seemed to be making very graceful refusals of their invitations. But just then a young girl walked up to her, eyes fixed on Akko on Sheena’s shoulder. Sheena noticed the girl, asked her a question, and at the girl’s eager nod, Sheena knelt down, and Akko hopped down into her hands, so that the girl could pet him. The child’s eyes lit up with wondrous delight.
Tobias, Alice, and Flynn were by the buffet, Tobias standing seemingly at ease, but his eyes slowly swept back and forth across the hall, as if surveying the crowd for potential threats. Alice, meanwhile, was happily snacking on some cakes. She offered Tobias one, and he shook his head, so she shrugged and ate it herself. And then one of the students from Saint Gloriana, a third-grade boy, came trotting up, eagerly asking Tobias a question. One of his teachers raced up to admonish him, but Tobias seemed to assuage her worries, and then knelt on one knee and nodded encouragingly to the boy. Flynn came up beside Tobias and sat, wagging his tail, and then the boy started petting Flynn.
Guinevere smiled, understanding the teacher’s attempts to stop the boy’s approach. As a rule, a knight’s dog was not some pet to be approached and petted by any eager canine-lover. But Flynn wasn’t an ordinary knight’s dog, and Tobias didn’t operate by the usual rulebook.
Guinevere respectfully extracted herself from a conversation of zero substance with Ars Moran’s minister of foreign affairs and his wife, and moved to check in on Rose and Teddy. But before she could get to them, a young man with a square jaw and deep brown eyes who she recognized as Duke Reinz’s son and heir Leo Florentine strode up to her with a dazzling smile. “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing with a flourish. He rose and held out his hand to her. “May I have the honor of your first dance of the evening?”
And so it begins.
Guinevere gave Leo her most beautiful smile, which clearly encouraged him, before responding, “Thank you for the invitation. Regretfully, I must decline. Please do enjoy the ball.” She then strode past his slack-jawed astonishment before he could recover his wits enough to try and change her mind.
But before Guinevere could make it two more steps, another dashing young man with an arrogant smile requested her first dance of the evening. She declined, and moved on, only to be accosted yet again. Right behind this third suitor were several other sons of the elite, eagerly waiting their turn, should Guinevere reject those ahead of them. Ava moved in close to Guin to provide emotional support, but that wasn’t going to get her out of this undesirable situation.
Guinevere glanced aside, and realized she’d reached the buffet — and she was hungry, and thirsty, but more than that, she wasn’t that far from Tobias, Alice, and Flynn. Flynn’s new best friend was still petting him, and now Flynn had rolled over on his back to happily accept tummy rubs, and the boy was laughing with lovely joy.
And Guinevere had an idea.
“If you would all please excuse me,” she said to her growing crowd of suitors. She strode away from them, right up to Tobias, and grasped his elbow. “Dance with me,” she said quickly, curtly — though not loud enough for others to have heard.
Tobias stared at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but only for a moment. He nodded, let her take his arm more properly, and led the way onto the dance floor. Ava joined Alice and Flynn, happily accepting affection from the boy who’d been petting Flynn.
Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief, fighting the urge to laugh at the indignant astonishment of all the men who had been lining up to ask her to dance.
And then she glanced up at Tobias, and felt a flash of guilt.
I don’t want him to think I’m using him. That’s not it. I…
The orchestra finished their song, and started up the next — a soft, elegant minuet. Tobias began to lead her in a dance, and Guinevere fell easily into step with him, knowing this dance, Twilight’s Nightingale, by heart. For the first several bars, they just danced with surprisingly easy familiarity. Guinevere looked at Tobias, gaining a new appreciation for him.
The guilt flashed through her again.
“The way I asked you was awfully rude of me,” she finally said. “You would have been well within your rights to refuse.”
Tobias looked at her. “I didn’t see a reason to refuse,” he said.
Guinevere searched his summer-sky blue eyes, and saw only honesty. “But you don’t want to dance,” she said, and studied his face.
“It’s… not so much that,” Tobias said. He glanced around. “I’m not fond of these sorts of gatherings.”
Guinevere could understand. “You dance well,” she said. “I can’t imagine you’ve had many opportunities to practice as a Knight Jouerve.”
“I haven’t danced in a long time,” Tobias said, his attention returning to her. “But I was taught well as a child.”
Guinevere smiled. “So was I,” she said. “My mother assigned me a tutor, but… he didn’t teach me much.” She sighed. “I learned the most from a friend’s mother.” That brought her smile back. Thinking of Artorius’ parents brought a golden gleam to her memories. She looked at Tobias. “Who taught you?”
Tobias looked away, and Guinevere saw in his eyes a distant, sorrowed look. “My mother,” he said softly.
Guinevere stared at him, and realized that he relived that horrific moment of his past over and over. To see his parents killed in front of him once was bad enough. But to see it over and over in his mind’s eye…
After a time, the pair of them dancing without missing a step, Guinevere decided to talk of something else. With a sly smile, she said, “I had my doubts about you when we first met. I had a hard time believing you could be a Knight.”
Tobias chuckled. “I know.”
“I was that obvious, was I?” Guinevere laughed. “That hardest thing to reconcile was your height. I’ve never met a male Knight as short as you.”
She enjoyed the little look of annoyance in his eyes, and the tired sigh he gave. “I get that a lot.”
“Oh?” Guinevere asked. “Are we a bit self-conscious?”
“No,” Tobias said, and Guinevere believed him. He looked at her, and as Guinevere met his gaze, she felt she could see his walls coming down. He was always so guarded, and he didn’t let his guard down completely. But something had changed, some barrier between them removed.
“Well,” Guinevere said. “The other difficult detail to reconcile is your attire.” She looked him up and down. “All black, all the time. Even now, dressed up for a ball, still — black. Is it your favorite color?”
“Black’s not a color,” Tobias said.
“Oh? Then what is your favorite?”
“Blue,” Tobias said, without hesitation. Guinevere’s eyes widened. “What?” Tobias asked.
“I didn’t expect an actual answer,” Guinevere said.
“Why would I hide my favorite color?” Tobias asked.
Guinevere gave a little shrug, and still they didn’t miss a step as they danced. “I thought perhaps you’d be self-conscious about that.” She smiled at him. “I think you’d look quite good in blue.”
“You do?” Tobias asked.
“Yes,” Guinevere said confidently. “Black doesn’t suit you at all.” At that, Tobias looked away, and something tightened in his expression. Was that a pout? Guinevere smiled all the more. He could be so endearingly expressive, sometimes. “So?” she continued. “Why black?”
“I chose it,” Tobias said, and Guinevere resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“Obviously. What inspired the choice?”
“It just… seemed right,” Tobias said. Slowly, he looked at her. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Hmm…” Guinevere thought for a moment, then shrugged, leaning a bit closer to Tobias, smiling at him. “Guess.”
Tobias looked at her — really looked at her, Guinevere realized. Just like when they’d first met, she knew he was seeing her for who she was. Guinevere, more than the Promised Queen. He bobbed his head from side to side, making a show of thinking about it, and Guinevere was about to laugh, but then he said, “Green.”
Guinevere stared at him, and blinked several times in surprise. Then she gave a little sigh, and glanced away. “How’d you guess so easily?”
“You often wear red,” Tobias said. “Or, like now, gold. But you always have something green, and it always looks thoughtfully chosen.”
Guinevere raised an eyebrow. “You’re very observant.”
“So I’ve been told,” Tobias said. He paused a moment, as if considering his next question. “Why did you want to dance with me? You were receiving plenty of invitations.”
Guinevere looked aside, annoyed — and revising her opinion on Tobias’ observational skills. “Everyone wants to dance with the Promised Queen,” she said. “They want the status, the influence, the reputation. They want to flirt, to believe even for a moment that they have a chance with me — for the sake of the money, more than anything. None of them want to dance with Guinevere.” She looked at Tobias as she said her name. “I appreciate having a few people in my life who look at me, rather than the Promised Queen.”
It was just as she said this that the current song ended. But in that brief silence between songs, Guinevere didn’t release his hand, nor take her other hand from his shoulder, and he didn’t remove his hand from her waist. When the next song began, they continued to dance, this time a peppy waltz. Guinevere and Tobias took up the dance, and Guinevere found Tobias a comfortable dance partner, as if they’d danced together a thousand times.
Tobias glanced around. “I thought you liked all of this,” he said.
“I do love to dance,” Guinevere said. “And I love getting dressed up. I am very fond of a good party. The only problem is… the company. Too often it’s all about money or prestige. People lying about what they want, lying to get what they really want, fawning over you just because of a title, or what they can get from you… I hate it. This is not how things should be. This is exactly the kind of social order I wish to cast aside when I’m…” She faltered, then, realizing the harshness in her tone, and looked away.
“You have admirable ambitions,” Tobias said. When Guinevere looked at him, he was smiling.
“Was it all right for me to take you away from Alice?” Guinevere asked. “You being her Knight-Protector and all.”
“She’s fine,” Tobias said, and he looked over Guinevere’s shoulder, probably to check on Alice. “She has Flynn with her, after all.”
“True enough,” Guinevere said. “And she has Ava now, too. I thought about asking Alice to dance, actually. But I thought it might not be advisable. It’d be a bit of a height mismatch.”
Tobias burst out laughing, a big, bright, beautiful laugh, completely unrestrained. Dancing couples around them looked at them in surprise, but Guinevere felt no embarrassment.
“What is it?” Tobias asked, and Guinevere saw tears in his eyes. Had she really made him laugh that hard? “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Am I the cause of this laughter?” Guinevere asked.
“Yes!” Tobias said, and laughed some more, before he finally tapered off.
Guinevere smiled. Yes, she was very glad of her chosen dance partner. To think when they’d first met, she’d been offended he had the gall to call himself a Knight. She hadn’t liked him at all.
Amazing, how first impressions could be so wrong.
When the waltz finished, Guinevere realized she didn’t want this time with Tobias to end — but she didn’t want to keep dancing, out in front of everyone else, drawing attention to what was feeling very personal, she and Tobias getting to know each other so much more than they had before. So she led Tobias off the dance floor, to Alice, Flynn, and Ava, and offered them all an invitation.
“There’s a rose garden?” Alice asked, eyes wide with excitement.
“Come with me,” Guinevere said.
She led them to a set of glass doors, open to let in the night air, that led out to the vast gardens of the Queen’s Manor. This was no simple rose garden, but a whole collection of gardens — the rose gardens sprawled in the center, around a three-tiered fountain. To the left were rows of flowering trees, while to the right stretched a long, complex hedge maze.
“Ooh, let’s solve the maze!” Alice said, eagerly heading towards the entrance, Flynn trotting along beside her.
“What happened to the rose garden?” Tobias asked.
“Guin didn’t mention there was a hedge maze!” Alice said. “Come on, this is much more fun.”
“I’ll try not to spoil the correct route,” Guinevere said, and she and Tobias followed. As they walked the grassy corridors, Guinevere looked aside at Tobias, and the sword at his hip. “I’ve been wondering — how do you remove your sword from your belt so easily? Both when you saved Alice in the Library, and then again when you chased after Teddy, you just tossed your sheathed sword away in an instant. But it shouldn’t be so easy to release your sword, sheath and all, from your belt, should it?”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Tobias said. Guinevere stared at him, and he looked ahead, walking on, totally straight-faced. But, after a moment, he cracked a small smile. “Well, that and a quick-release mechanism.” He then reached down to his sword and, with a single gesture along the connection point from sheath to belt, he disconnected it and held it up for Guinevere to see.
“Ah, that explains it,” Guinevere said. It had been bothering her quite a bit, being a novice at wearing a sword on her hip — and having had quite a lot of trouble attaching it to and detaching it from her belt the first few times.
“It’s something my teacher devised,” Tobias said, reattaching his sword to his belt with another one-handed gesture, as easy as he’d detached it. “No matter how long you spend wearing a sword, and how much practice you get with it, it will still get in the way of some actions. Sometimes, it’s better to just not be wearing it, even just for a moment.”
“Which way?” Alice asked up ahead, looking to Flynn to decide. They were at a three-way fork, and after sniffing the air and surveying two of the branches, Flynn decided to go left.
“I… was wondering,” Tobias said after a while, hesitantly. “What made you announce that the Promised King is alive?”
“The world needs to know,” Guinevere said. “For so long… I’ve known, but only in my heart. Having heard it from the Librarian, and…” She faltered, then, realizing he and Alice both knew nothing about Lacie’s visit of her in Alice’s home. She shook her head. “I couldn’t keep it to myself. And I don’t think I should. One day, he’ll have to return. The Promise must be fulfilled.”
“I understand,” Tobias said. “But he hasn’t returned. All people have is your word.”
“And my word isn’t reliable enough?” Guinevere asked, glaring at him.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tobias said. “I believe you. Many others will, as well. But many won’t.”
“At first, I thought he’d chosen to let the whole world believe he was dead,” Guinevere said. “But now I’ve learned that the Librarian knows he’s alive. And there are plenty of hints that others know, too. He’s let people know he’s alive. He hasn’t completely covered his tracks or hidden himself from the world. And that…” She shook her head angrily.
“You’d think he would have told you, at least,” Alice said, turning around to look at Guinevere. “I think it’s strange, too. You two are the Promise — together. It’s not right for you to be apart.”
Guinevere sighed, looking away. “And yet we are,” she said. “Let’s not talk about this. We were having such a good time.”
“You two were,” Alice said, grinning at Tobias and Guinevere. “And, well — I was, too.” She looked at Flynn, who was watching them, wagging his tail. “All right, then. We all were, weren’t we? Still could be. How far are we from the center, Guin?”
“I told you I wouldn’t spoil the correct route,” Guinevere said. “But… you’re getting close. Flynn’s a very clever guide.”
“Of course he is!” Alice said. But then she looked at Ava suspiciously. “You haven’t been secretly telling him the right way, have you?”
Ava watched Alice placidly, her tail swishing back and forth gently.
“Flynn can find the way,” Tobias said. “And if Guinevere wasn’t going to spoil the way, I don’t think Ava would.”
“Of course not,” Guinevere said, and managed to smile again. “Go on, Flynn. Show us what you can do.”
Flynn trotted off with his tail held high, and the others followed. At each turning, Flynn peered down each path, sniffed the air, and then was confidently leading the way. Whatever signs Flynn was using to find his way, Guinevere couldn’t even guess. Was there some special scent in the center of the maze? But how would knowing its location help Flynn navigate the maze? Mazes intentionally obfuscated the proper path, never taking the most direct route to the end.
There was only one possible conclusion: Flynn was a very clever dog.
And so it wasn’t long before they reached the maze’s center, a beautiful glade with three stone benches around a statue of Saint Estellise, who had sung the Song of the Promise, foretelling the arrival of the Promised King and Queen centuries before they would come into the world. She was portrayed with her hands clasped upon her chest, her eyes closed, her mouth open in song. The moonlight cast her dress in waves of silver, lending the maze’s central glade a soft, ethereal glow.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” Alice said, gazing around in wonder. “Good boy, Flynn!”
Guinevere smiled, basking in the serenity of the moment. They were far enough now from the ball, with walls and walls of leafy hedges between them and the party, that it was totally silent out here. They stood within a silver haven of peace.
“Right, then,” Alice said, turning on her heel towards the maze. “We came, we saw, we conquered. Let’s head back.”
“Already?” Guinevere asked.
“I want to dance!” Alice said, smiling back at her.
Guinevere laughed, shook her head, and then followed with Tobias. Flynn remembered the way after only one time through the maze, further cementing his reputation as the cleverest dog.
They were walking together, enjoying the peace of the maze, Alice humming a happy little tune, and Guinevere was truly enjoying this unexpected detour from the ball.
But when they were just two turns from the end, there was a sudden, heart-stopping explosion. A burst of red-orange lit up the sky in the distance, and then plumes of black smoke started belching up into the sky.
“What…” Guinevere started, then shook her head. “We have to help!” She started to run.
“Go on, we’ll be right behind you!” Tobias said. Guinevere wondered what he meant, and why he might not come immediately — but she didn’t question it.
She couldn’t hesitate. Danger had come to her home, to her party, to her guests. She didn’t have her sword — it was inside.
But she had to help. And she prayed, as she ran, that things weren’t as bad as it looked. That people were safe, and would remain so, before she got there.
——
Tobias urged Guinevere on, and then turned around, one hand on his sword. Behind him, fires were burning, smoke was rising. Something had gone terribly wrong at the ball.
But he couldn’t go to help, yet.
“Alice,” he said softly, but with a firm note of warning. “Get behind us. Do exactly as I say. And don’t be afraid.”
“All right,” Alice said, taking shelter behind him. Flynn took up a position alongside him, tensed to pounce.
“You have keen senses,” said a dark, mocking voice. Around the corner of the hedges stepped a mountain of a man, at least seven feet tall, his eyes shaded by a brimmed hat, his long coat rippling in the breeze. In either hand he held a wide-bladed sword, the blades segmented, like pieces that could come apart. His heavy boots left deep impressions in the grass, yet he walked nearly silently. “Run along, little knight. The girl dies tonight. You need not die with her.”
“You don’t actually expect me to heed that warning, do you?” Tobias asked. He kept his right hand at his sheath, holding it steady, and his left hand was poised to draw. But he didn’t draw yet. “Or do threats usually work for you?”
The massive man chuckled. “They do, actually.” Around the corner came a hulking creature to join his master — some might think it a small bear at first glance, but it was more like a wolf, nearly twice as big as Hector, and positively dwarfing Flynn. But it was no adorable pup, no loving, comforting companion. This was a beast of battle, a disturbing, grizzled monster, its jaws open, razor-sharp fangs dripping with saliva, its eyes glaring with hungry, predatory ferocity.
“Charles Baskerville,” Tobias said, recognizing his foe now, “and his loyal Hound.”
“So you’ve heard of me,” Baskerville said, cocking his head to the side. “I’m honored. But as a dog owner yourself, you should respect a Hound’s name. Call him Bandersnatch.”
Tobias scoffed. “Surely you know of the real Bandersnatch. The pair of you wouldn’t last five seconds against him.”
Baskerville grinned. “You won’t fare much better against us, little knight.” He tensed at the knees, gripping his strange swords tightly, like a panther readying to pounce on its tiny, vulnerable prey.
Tobias didn’t flinch. Charles Baskerville was the most feared contract killer on the Continent, and had been known to take contracts in the Leucen Kingdom, as well. He was not a foe to be trifled with.
But his presence, and stated objective, raised questions. His contract was for Alice? Someone wanted her dead enough to send the deadliest of killers after her?
“You don’t really expect a Knight-Protector to abandon his charge, do you?” Tobias asked. “If you tell us who sent you, I’ll agree to spare your life.”
Baskerville laughed. “Pride comes before the fall, little knight.”
Baskerville pounced. Tobias leapt to meet him.