“Right . . . ,” I said, “I know you’re not the Black Knight. I was just . . . well . . .” The horse had decided to find something to eat and he nuzzled my satchel. I pushed his head away. People were milling all around the courtyard so I stepped close to Tristan. On my tiptoes, I put my lips to his ear and whispered, “I did take the Black Knight’s enchantment. He’s not invincible. I am.”

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Tristan whispered back to me, but I could tell he was just humoring me. “Because the sky is purple?”

“If you don’t believe me, I’ll prove it to you.” Tristan folded his arms and regarded me with amused interest. “Okay.”

“Try to hit me.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled the horse forward toward the stables. “As tempting as that offer is, no.” I followed after him. “Why not? It won’t hurt me, you’ll see.”

“Call me old-fashioned. I don’t hit girls.”

“I’m asking you to.”

He shook his head and laughed. “You know, after what you’ve put me through during the last eight months, you really shouldn’t push your luck.” Which was when I knew I was right not to tell him anything about switching enchantments.

• • •

Our trip to the armory was noisy, boring, and cost most of the things I’d brought with me. I sat on a hard wooden bench by the door while Tristan stood, arms out like a scarecrow, having his measurements taken. The armorer walked around Tristan holding up a piece of string to different parts of his body, and then yelling out 234/431

numbers to his assistant. In between the numbers, the armorer kept throwing out little compliments like,

“You’re nicely tall, just as a well-bred lad should be.” I fluttered my eyelashes at Tristan and mouthed the words “well bred.” He rolled his eyes, then pretended he didn’t see me.

When he’d finally finished with his measurements, we walked slowly across the castle grounds. Tristan didn’t take my arm like he had before, and I found that I missed it. The space between us seemed too large somehow. My hands swung awkwardly at my sides.

They hadn’t rung the bell for dinner yet but it wouldn’t be long. The sun wasn’t too far away from setting. “So what should we do until dinner, Monsieur Well Bred?”

He cast me the barest of glances. “You are so twenty-first century.”

“And that’s a good thing.”

He didn’t answer, which made me think he’d meant to insult me. I tilted my chin down. “Do you like that whole property-rights view of women? We should keep in our place and all that?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What then? You think the peasant look is hot? After all, on their diet of porridge, they’re naturally as skinny as super-models.”

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He slid me an exasperated glance. “See, that is exactly what I mean. I never realized how sarcastic modern girls were until I came here. No one back home even tries to be ladylike or demure.”

“I might if I knew what demure meant.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

How could I argue about it when I didn’t know what the word meant? This is why it totally sucks to argue with smart people. You’d think after all my years of living with Jane I would have picked up a huge vocabulary, but no. I took several steps, prickled by this fact, and planned to come up with a really good comeback just as soon as I got hold of a dictionary.

Tristan headed to the orchards, and the noise of the castle yard slowly faded behind us as we walked through the trees. Layers of fallen white blossoms covered the ground so that they almost looked like snow.

I could have changed the subject. The setting was so relaxing that I didn’t want to argue, but still, as we strolled among the trees I said, “Modern girls have their own benefits. We may be sarcastic but we’re clean.” A smile picked up the corner of his lips. “Modern girls don’t come with dowries.”

I put my hand out, brushing my fingers against low-hanging branches that we passed. “Maybe, but modern girls have access to supermarkets for cooking. Besides, 236/431

what are your chances of getting a girl with a decent dowry?”

Our conversation died because Princess Margaret and another young woman, probably a lady-in-waiting, came through the trees on the path heading toward us. The princess wore a different dress than I’d seen her in when I was Cinderella, but her elegant looks and her arrogance were still the same.

In the moment before she saw us, the princess’s face flashed with anger. She looked at the woman walking beside her, but her voice, low and piercing, carried down the lane to us. “He can send all the gifts he likes, it is not his place to make me wait. I shan’t wear it if he thinks so ill of me that he asks for a meeting and then doesn’t come.” She pulled a ring off her finger, gripped it in her palm, then looked up and saw us. Her eyes flew open in surprise and it took her several steps to compose her expression back into a hard mask of self-importance.

Tristan was right. I was too twenty-first century. I didn’t even think about bowing until I saw Tristan do it.

Then I gave a hurried curtsy and waited for her and her lady to pass by us.

But Princess Margaret didn’t. She sashayed up to Tristan, her skirts swishing about her ankles. A smile slid across her lips. “Ahh, it’s one of my would-be suitors.”

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She still held the ring tightly in one fist, but she put her other hand out in front of her. Tristan took her hand in his own, brought it to his lips, and murmured, “Your highness.”

My mouth dropped open and I stared at them.

Would-be suitor? Exactly what did she mean by that?

Since when did a storytelling page court a princess? I didn’t ask, which probably didn’t matter since neither of them took any notice of me.

While the lady’s maid eyed me suspiciously, Princess Margaret leaned closer to Tristan. “I hear you challenged the Black Knight and lived to tell of it.” He let go of her hand with a nod. “It shall be my pleasure to share the adventure with all of your father’s household at dinner.” As though just remembering me, he turned his hand in my direction. “May I present Lady Savannah to you? She came from my land to bring me the funds to buy armor and weapons.” Princess Margaret’s gaze shifted to me like a cold breeze and she held out her hand to me. “How nice of you to come.”

I couldn’t kiss her. In fairy stories princes and princesses were the most frequent recipients of enchantments. If Princess Margaret was about to prick her finger on a spinning wheel and sleep for a hundred years, I did not want to volunteer to do it for her. But I couldn’t 238/431

explain my refusal without insult. I stared at her openmouthed, then shut my eyes, swooned, and hoped Tristan would catch me.

He didn’t.

My head hit the ground with a thud that sent sparks through my darkened eyes. I wanted to cry out. Instead I lay motionless at everyone’s feet.

The rustle of skirts came toward me. With more annoyance than concern in her voice, the lady-in-waiting said, “She’s fainted.”

I heard Tristan drop to his knees beside me.

“Savannah?”

I didn’t move.

He put his hand underneath my head and shook my shoulders in an attempt to wake me.

I let my eyelids flutter open.

Tristan’s clear blue eyes searched my face, worry etched into his expression. “Are you all right?” I nodded.

Princess Margaret took several steps so she could look directly down at me. “I’ve had peasants faint when meeting me, but never a noblewoman.” A calculating smile cut across her face. “Are you sure you’re not a peasant?”

A chill crept down my spine. Did she recognize me?

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She let her gaze run over me, taking in my outfit, face, and hair. As though still talking to Tristan and with a large dose of disdain, she added, “Such a pretty maiden.”