Sieger nimbly maneuvered exactly where Valten needed him to go, and soon Valten had the upper hand, forcing his opponent to parry his every strike. The Burgundian knight was barely able to keep his blade between Valten’s sword and his own body armor. Soon, the young knight was leaning back in the saddle and his horse was backing up. Valten pressed harder until he had his opponent twisted at an odd angle in his saddle. Quickly, Valten flipped his sword around the other knight’s blade, and though the Burgundian knight hung on to his weapon, he lost his balance and fell, landing on his side in the dirt and churned-up grass of the field.
This was a familiar position for Valten. He dismounted and stood over the young knight, crossing his sword with the downed knight’s before he could stand up. He didn’t have a chance and shouted his surrender, as the marshals were running toward them to halt the fight and declare Valten the victor.
Valten immediately backed off.
One bout finished, several more to go. And Gisela was smiling and clapping her hands and looking as lovely as she had the night before when he’d danced with her.
Gisela heaved a sigh of relief when Valten knocked his opponent off his horse. When he stood over him in triumph, she allowed herself to cheer and applaud with the rest of the crowd. The sight of him, looking valiant in his armor, his feet planted solidly, and her red scarf flying on his arm, made her heart soar, and she couldn’t have repressed her smile if she’d wanted to.
Sitting on her “throne” in the gallery, Gisela felt honored, and also a little ridiculous. To be looked upon as the Queen of Beauty and Love was both enjoyable and awkward, but knowing she’d been chosen by Valten … that was by far the best part. And he was wearing the red scarf Margaretha had given him. She remembered how he had looked at her when she tied her blue scarf to his arm. She wished she could have tied this one on too, but she’d had to hurry to her place. The duke’s own guard had escorted her there, and he stood nearby, as though keeping watch over her.
Gisela felt a bit lonely by herself, but she soon saw Cristyne and motioned for her to come sit with her. She wished Margaretha could be with her too, but she was with her family on the opposite side of the lists. Cristyne and her cousin, who came with her, kept up a friendly chatter that soothed the uncomfortable feeling that the entire crowd was watching her. The children in the crowd had continued to stare and make comments about her, as if she couldn’t hear them.
Out of the corner of her eye she couldn’t help but see the jealous glares of Rainhilda and her friends, and she’d made note of where Evfemia, Irma, and Contzel were sitting. She felt, rather than saw, their eyes on her but refused to allow them to ruin the day.
She instead focused on Valten while he was before her, and once or twice she fancied that he was looking at her too. But he kept his visor down and she couldn’t see inside the dark helm.
Dear Lord God, I know this day can’t last, but I will remember it forever. She caught her breath at the fervency of her own feelings. But she couldn’t expect Valten to feel as much for her as she did for him. And though everyone might expect Valten to marry the lady he chose to be the Queen of Beauty and Love — hadn’t everyone expected him to choose Rainhilda, and to marry her? — no one would expect him to marry an orphaned servant.
But he felt something for her, at least. No matter what might happen in the future, he at least thought of her now. And she had never dared dream of being noticed by him.
No, that wasn’t true. She had dreamed.
Valten’s second challenger rode onto the field. Friedric Ruexner was easily distinguishable by his black armor and the ugly gray skull on his surcoat and his horse’s caparison. The spike on his helmet was not crowned by feathers this time. There was no extra decoration besides the gray skull on a black background. It made the red scarf on Valten’s arm seem to stand out even more.
Her heart beat faster. She had to swallow the nervous lump in her throat as she thought about the malice in Ruexner’s eyes when he’d looked at Valten, and the fact that the man would do anything to defeat Valten, even poison his horse.
O God, please protect Valten from any malicious tricks. Ruexner would take any unfair advantage he could, as he did not adhere to the rules of honorable conduct that knights swore to uphold. But Valten would never violate the codes of chivalry, putting him at a disadvantage.
Knowing people might be watching for her reaction, Gisela strove to keep herself from looking anxious. She would convey complete confidence in her champion. Making an effort to keep her hands unclenched, she stared as impassively as possible at the scene before her. She had always been good at concealing her true feelings from her stepmother and stepsisters, laughing in their faces when she wanted to cry, hiding her anger and contempt to avoid punishment, and refusing to let them see how much their cruel words hurt her. So surely she could conceal, from this rough crowd, her anxiety for Valten’s safety.
She concentrated on breathing evenly as they all anticipated the moment the marshal would lower his flag. Valten and Sieger waited, still and quiet, while Ruexner and his mount fidgeted, his horse pawing the ground a bit and lifting his head and pricking his ears forward. Ruexner pulled on the reins with one hand and flexed his other hand around his sword hilt, while his mount whinnied nervously.