FIFTEEN MINUTES AFTER Bliss’s jousting run (for which she scored a perfect fifteen, having struck what amounted to a bull’s-eye on the outside upper quarter of the shield) she was at the bottom of the bleachers waving me down.
“Go on; she probably wants to do some training with you. I’ll watch Moth until you get back,” CJ offered.
I sighed as I handed over his leash and dug his can of kitty snacks from the leather pouch that hung from my belt. “I don’t know why she thinks anyone cares whether or not I prove myself to Farrell. . . .”
“Stop complaining and go.” CJ shoved me.
Bliss had already started toward the stable as I hurried after her. She was still clad in breeches and tunic beneath a thigh-long chain-mail hauberk that she wore for jousting, but despite her being so burdened, I ha
