Colbrand looked down at her with vacant blue eyes that had no understanding in them, and suddenly she didn't think they were such handsome eyes.
She shrugged and turned away. She had more to think about than whether or not Colbrand was handsome, for there was something wrong. Why had the man waited until the second day to enter the games? Why keep his identity a secret?
She moved away from Colbrand and Jamie and made her way to the Black Knight's end of the field. There were half a dozen boys crowding around the knight, handing him new lances, wetting his horse's nose, and in general worshiping the mysterious man who was such a good fighter.
Zared watched the man through two more runs before she realized there was something familiar about him. At first she thought he might be her oldest brother. He was the same size as Rogan, but he did not move as Rogan did. Nor was he one of her father's illegitimate sons, for she knew them well.
She stepped closer to watch the man, and when she did so he turned his head toward her. She could see none of his face through the grid of his face mask, but the way he moved his head, even when it was encased in steel, made her draw in her breath.
Howard, she thought, and she knew without a doubt who was inside the armor.
She turned away before he could see the expression on her face. She walked back to stand by Colbrand and watch the man joust, but she looked with new eyes.
There was the man who had nearly died when her knife had grazed his ribs. Had nearly died? Or had just pretended to? He had lain there on the grass and told her he was afraid to be alone, and she, fool, had believed him. She had left him, yet she had returned because she feared he was dying.
Lies, she thought. The man was composed of lies. He pretended to be a weakling; he pretended to be who he was not; he pretended to want to marry a Peregrine; he pretended to be a friend.
"Do you think your brother can take him?"
It took her a moment to realize that Colbrand was speaking to her. And it was another moment before she realized that her body did not vibrate at being so near the beautiful man. Beautiful, yes, but so were the gloves Tearle had bought her, and Colbrand's eyes looked as though they held as much intelligence as the gloves. She would have very much liked to talk to someone about the mysterious knight, but as she looked up at Colbrand's handsome face she knew he would not be the one. She sensed that he would not be a
ble to understand the finer points of a conversation that involved logic and deduction.
"My brother will kill him," Zared said softly.
"With mud or honey?" Jamie said, smirking.
She did not react to his words at all but turned a blazing face to the boy. "Go and fetch my brother."
Jamie didn't hesitate, for he knew a command when he heard it. He turned and started running.
Zared stood beside the field and watched as the Black Knight downed one man after another. Her ears rang with everything she'd said to the Howard man, how she'd taunted him about being soft, about knowing of women's clothes yet not knowing of men's weapons.
How he must have laughed at her, she thought. How he must have chuckled over her every word. Did he laugh at Zared while Lady Anne was in his arms? He had admitted that he knew her in France, so perhaps they had planned their marriage while there. What had happened? Did Lady Anne's father dislike the notion of having a Howard son-in-law—and had he forced his daughter to choose another man? Had Hugh Marshall chosen Severn?
But the Howard man had eliminated Severn from competing for Lady Anne's hand. The crowd laughed whenever they saw a Peregrine, laughed even at the Peregrine banner. So now the Howard man caught the crowd's fancy by dressing as a mysterious knight. He fought no better than Severn had, but in the end, when he revealed himself, he would not be a man the crowd had laughed at. With the glory of the Black Knight strong Hugh Marshall would no doubt listen to a Howard petition of marriage.
Zared watched the man who called himself the Black Knight with increasing concentration. Severn must beat him, she thought.
It was a while before she realized Severn was standing behind her.
"What do you think?" he asked softly.
"You can take him," she said. "He has intimidation on his side. Half these men expect to be knocked down by him. He scares them. He has weight and strength on his side, but he is no larger or stronger than you."
"You seem awfully sure."
She turned to glare up at him. "I am sure." She saw something in her brother's eyes and realized that the laughter of the morning had hurt him. "He is the one who put the mud in your helmet, the one who released the bees."
Severn stared at her. "You are sure?"
"Aye," she said with conviction. "It is not skill he uses as much as fear. Why else appear in disguise? He knew he could not beat you, and he knew he could not make you afraid, so he tried to break your spirit with laughter."
She could have told her brother that the man in the black armor was Smith, the man Severn had believed to be his friend, but she did not. She wasn't sure why she didn't tell Severn the truth; perhaps from fear of his rage at such a betrayal, or perhaps because if she gave more than the necessary information, it might lead to more questions, and Severn would discover Tearle's true identity.
Severn straightened and looked at the man on the black horse, and as Zared watched his eyes changed. Her brother was returning. She saw again the man of supreme confidence, and no longer were his eyes filled with doubt.
"Aye, I can take him," Severn whispered.