I bought horses for Jane and Hunter, then went to the tailor to see if he had a dress ready for me. He didn’t, but I was able to buy one of the tailor’s wife’s dresses. It was worn and plain, but at least Jane wouldn’t stand out in her jeans. Getting clothes for Hunter proved harder.
He was taller than most of the men in the Middle Ages, which limited the people I could barter with for clothes.
I didn’t want to trade with a peasant, or Hunter would spend his entire time in the Middle Ages being treated like a servant.
Before he left for the castle, I was able to convince Sir William to trade me a pair of leggings and a tunic for my last two necklaces. I knew it was a bad trade, but I was desperate, and besides, it made him less ticked off about Tristan killing the cyclops before he’d had a chance.
I looked at my dwindling supplies and wondered how much longer we’d be in the Middle Ages. If it was much longer, I’d have to find some more thieves to rob.
Hunter spent the morning procuring saltpeter. This basically meant he went to all of the dung heaps in the village and scraped off a white, salty-looking layer that 310/431
had formed on top. The stables proved to be a gold mine for this.
Jane and I went to the butcher to buy a pig. I ended up feeling sorry for all of them and made Jane choose one. She told me it wouldn’t matter to the pig whether it was eaten by a person or a dragon—and besides, it was hypocritical to feel sorry for the pig when bacon was one of my favorite foods. But I still made her do it.
She chose the biggest one. It looked like it weighed as much as I did, had a torn ear, beady eyes, and a nasty disposition. I called him Mr. Ogden, after my geometry teacher.
Tristan came home at lunchtime, and then he and Hunter went out behind the inn and tried different ratios of saltpeter to charcoal to sulfur to see what ex-ploded the best. They came inside not much later—their faces black with soot and their eyebrows singed—and told us that a ratio of 6 to 1 to 1worked out very well.
It was midafternoon when Tristan and Hunter loaded Mr. Ogden onto a cart. It was odd to watch Tristan and Hunter getting the horses ready, working together. One was the guy I’d kissed about a month ago, and the other was the guy who I’d nearly kissed last night. I couldn’t help but compare them. True, Hunter was taller and had broader shoulders, but watching him no longer made my heart flutter around in my rib cage. Instead I found 311/431
my gaze being drawn to Tristan. There was just something endearing about Tristan’s shaggy blond hair and light blue eyes. Maybe it was because he’d never cheated on me. Everything with him was a sky full of possibilities. Besides, I liked his dry sense of humor and the way he was so protective of me. He kept telling me over and over that I was to stay at the inn—as though he was sure I would insist on coming with him to the dragon’s lair.
I did insist, but only once.
“You might need help along the way,” I told him.
He looked at me, his eyes firm. “That’s why I’m taking Hunter with me. You’re staying at the inn until we come back.” He mounted his horse and took hold of the reins.
“It’s only a ten-mile ride to the lair. If all goes well, we’ll be back by nightfall. Then we’ll be able to rest for an entire day before we go up to the castle for King Roderick’s celebration tomorrow night.”
Everyone of importance in the kingdom was going to be there. Everyone in town who could walk or ride would go up for it. Tristan was convinced the Black Knight would show up there and he wanted to be ready to face him.
Now I watched Tristan put a bag of black powder in his own saddlebag and another in Hunter’s. His tanned 312/431
hands moved so confidently. His perfect profile showed his determination.
I looked at the saddlebags and then at the pig. “But what if things don’t go as planned with the dragon?” Tristan smiled at me as he mounted his horse. “Then you can find another date to prom. I’ll understand.” I should have smiled back at him, but I couldn’t bring myself to. A knot of worry wound around my insides, pulling tight.
Hunter stood by his horse, but before mounting it he gave Jane a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head.
Momentarily I was stung with their betrayal all over again. They were so easy about hugging each other. How often had they done it while Hunter was dating me?
I pulled my gaze away from them and noticed Tristan watching me, his eyes serious, evaluating.
I blushed and wasn’t sure why. “Be careful,” I said.
Part of me wished I had hugged Tristan, but it would have been awkward beforehand and was impossible now. We hadn’t been alone at all since he’d tried to kiss me, and it felt like both of us were waiting for an answer to a question that hadn’t been asked yet.
Hunter mounted his horse with more ease than I’d expected and the two of them rode off, with Mr. Ogden bouncing in the cart behind Tristan.
Chapter 21
Jane and I wandered around the village killing time. We hardly talked at all, but I could tell by the way she had to stay in constant motion—tapping her foot, fiddling with her dress—that her thoughts were circling around Hunter. I knew it was hard for her to keep all that anxiety inside. She wasn’t talking about him because she thought it would be painful for me to hear about her feelings for him.
After two hours had gone by, a lot of the villagers crawled up on their roofs in hopes of seeing the dragon in the distant sky.
Tristan had explained the way of dragons to us before he’d left. Dragons were slow moving and awkward while walking because their wings and tails dragged on the ground—thus the name, dragons. That’s why they always stayed put in their lairs unless they were hunting or frightened. If startled, they took to the air at once, where they had the advantage of height and speed at their command.
So when Tristan and Hunter got close enough to the dragon’s lair that it could smell the pig, we should be able to see the shape of the dragon take off into the sky.
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As the villagers climbed the inn’s roof, I heard tidbits of conversation, people discussing Tristan’s odds of success like it was a football match.
“The bloke’s no archer. He hasn’t a chance.”
“I hear he has magic. Something to do with a pig.”
“Pig magic? Can’t be powerful. I reckon he’ll be dead before we can toast his victory over the cyclops on the morrow.”
All of it made my stomach turn. Still, I wanted to see the events for myself. I’d rather see it firsthand than have to ask the villagers what they’d seen. I left the inn and headed for the church. It had the highest roof and was the only one in the village that wasn’t thatch.
Someone had pushed a ladder against the side, and several people—including the priest—were already on top.
Jane followed me up, all the while telling me that we shouldn’t be up here because there were no building codes in the Middle Ages and the roof was likely to col-lapse. Luckily, I’d had practice ignoring her.
I took a seat next to the priest. He was reciting something in Latin; I hoped it was a prayer for Tristan. I pressed my arms around my knees and stared in the same direction that everyone else was looking. Jane sat next to me. We didn’t talk.
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The sun kept creeping across the sky. Certainly it had been long enough, hadn’t it? The villagers had stopped their noisy chatter and were looking above the tree line in earnest. Now their predictions were given in hushed tones, perhaps out of respect for us. “Did misfortune be-fall them before they reached the lair?” one asked. “Perhaps they’ve turned back,” another said.
“Or the dragon killed them without ever having to take flight.”
Jane looked dully at the horizon. Her voice was no more than a whisper. “This is my fault.” I turned to her, surprised. “Your fault?”