Chapter 32: Do Not Go Gentle with That Good Knight
****
Clarkent felt as if he had barely shut his eyes for two minutes when he felt something shift around his neck. He opened bleary eyes, confused and startled and utterly unsure of what was happening. His sleep-fogged brain finally caught up with him, and he lifted his arms in a panic, but it was too late. His helmet had been removed.
His gaze fell on the floor first, where he saw the frayed rope that had once been around the princess’s hands. Then he lifted his head with fearful reluctance and stared up at the princess herself . . . and saw the expression of shock and pain on her face.
“Clarkent?” she gasped, dropping the helmet to the floor with a clang.
****
It had been a long and agonizing process, but the princess had managed to wriggle off the bed and sink to the floor without making much noise. Then she had scooted on her hind end to move toward the Black Knight. After that, she had used her hands to ever-so-quietly remove the knight’s sword from its sheath. Finally, she had softly and slowly sawed off the ropes on her hand with the sharp blade.
After that, she had untied her legs, which were relived to be freed of her bonds. James hadn’t returned from hunting yet, thankfully, and she had nearly snuck out then and there. But then she had gazed intently at the Black Knight. Though he *had* kidnapped her, he hadn’t done anything to hurt her. Scare her, yes. Hurt her, no.
And what was more . . . Peri’s animal familiar trusted the knight. Why was that? Was James a traitor to Peri? Or was something going on here that she didn’t know about? She didn’t think there was anything evil about the bird--in some ways, despite all his years, James had seemed like a spunky kid.
Who *was* the Black Knight? And why hadn’t James been willing to tell her?
For some reason, her mind had flashed back to the masquerade ball. Something important had happened there. But what was it?
She had crept closer to the Black Knight, knowing this was her one chance to learn his identity. But she had also known that the cost of such knowledge could be death. She was so close to escape--the Black Knight was sleeping and wouldn’t realize she was missing until she was long gone.
But in staring at the Black Knight, she had also been staring her curiosity in the eye. And she hadn’t been able to back down from that.
Her heart beating out a merciless rhythm in her chest, she had reached forward, taken a deep breath, and pulled up on the Black Knight’s helmet.
And then she had reeled upon seeing the sleepy face of her stableboy friend.
As she felt his helmet slip from her fingers, she somehow managed his name: “Clarkent?” She felt hurt, shocked, confused, overwhelmed . . . .
Pieces were falling together too easily. That sword on the ground--when she had used it to remove her bonds, she had felt there was something vaguely familiar about it. Of course she recognized it--the sword was the one he’d used to fight off the Garms and end Penelope Grace’s life. And when she’d seen Clarkent in the stable after the tilt, he had been favoring his side--at the jousting match, she had seen a gleam in the light and had wondered if Sir Tempos had stabbed the Black Knight. It seemed he had. And now she knew why Clarkent had appeared to support the Black Knight. It only made sense for him to support himself.
“Princess--Your . . . Your Highness,” the stableboy whispered, obviously unsure what to say.
She stared at him unflinchingly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She thought she knew him better than anyone else in the world, but she was wrong. She hadn’t known him at all. He had kidnapped her--humiliated her. Deceived her.
He winced at her words, avoiding her gaze. “You hated the Black Knight. How could I tell you? You’d never talk to me again.”
She crossed her arms, not wanting to admit that he had a point. As her mind continued to whirl, something else occurred to her, and she asked abruptly, “Was that you at the ball?”
His abashed expression was all she needed to see. The mysterious stranger *had* been him.
Her mind flashed back to when they had danced out in the field so long ago. They had both been so innocent then. That had been before the Black Knight was in existence--and also before she had started dressing up as Gawain. A small part of her told her that she shouldn’t be angry at Clarkent for keeping this secret when she was concealing something just as big, but she dismissed it. The magic surrounding her outfit wouldn’t *let* her tell anyone--so her circumstance was completely different. She couldn’t tell him even if she *wanted* to. At least he’d *had* the choice. That was a luxury she had not been given.
She pierced him with her gaze and demanded suddenly, “Why did you take me away from the castle?” No matter how angry she was, she would never believe he wanted to hurt her. If she did, her whole life would fall apart. Her best friend couldn’t truly be evil, could he? Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought, but she did know that much. Didn’t she?
He looked down sadly at the gauntlets covering his hands. “You won’t believe me, Prin--Your Highness. That’s why I didn’t tell you before.”
“Clarkent,” she said dangerously. She would get answers from him even if she had to pry them out. “Why am I here?”
He sighed. “You’re in trouble, Your Highness.”
Her eyes became narrow slits. “What do you mean?”
He slowly got to his feet, and she backed away, trying not to think about the pained expression that came over his face as she did so.
“The Regent intends to force you to marry him,” he explained.
“That’s ridiculous,” she told him immediately. “Alexander has always been kind to me.” Her mind flashed to his attempt to control her outfit at the ball, but she pushed that away. That was an isolated incident. He didn’t usually do things like that. “He even Requested for you to stay when I asked him.” She bit down on her lip, mentally kicking herself. She hadn’t meant to tell him that.
“What?” Clarkent asked, his mouth hanging open slightly. “You . . . you were the one who wanted to Request me?”
She flushed. “Well, don’t ask me if I’d do it again--not after you’ve hidden your real identity from me all this time.”
“The Black Knight isn’t my real identity,” he told her, his eyebrows pulled inward. “That’s just something I do to help people.”
“Help people?” she scoffed. “You haven’t been *helping* people!”
“I have, too!” he insisted. “The stories you’ve been hearing--they’re all skewed toward the rich! You don’t know the truth behind them. You don’t know how the Regent has been sucking the lifeblood from people--”
“In spite of what you think, Alexander is not a bad man!” she growled at him before leaving the room in fury. She hated that there was a part of her that didn’t believe that.
He followed after her. “He *is* a bad man, Princess! He intends to make you his wife whether you want that or not. Peri and I--”
She swiveled toward him, her right hand on the knob to the door that led outside. “*Peregrine the White* is involved in this?” Suddenly, things made even more sense--James was helping Clarkent because Peri was also tangled up in this mess. Peri must have told James to keep Clarkent’s identity a secret from her. Was there anyone *else* she needed to know about?
“*Peri* is the one that told me about Alexander’s plans!” Clarkent told her. “This is his cottage. I was bringing you here to keep you safe while Peri--”
She jerked open the door. “I don’t need anyone to keep me safe. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.” She stomped outside and brought herself to stand beside the big black horse nearby. She had thought he belonged to the Black Knight, but now she knew he belonged to Clarkent--and she didn’t even want to think about how a poor stableboy would have come across such a creature. “Take me home,” she gritted, staring at the horse rather than the young man she had *thought* was her friend.
“No,” Clarkent said firmly.
She turned toward him, enraged. “Take me home *now*.”
“I told you before,” he said, crossing his arms stubbornly as he stepped up beside her. “It’s too dangerous, Your Highness.”
Loisette narrowed her eyes. “And I told you--*I* . . . *don’t* . . . *care*!” She shoved him, and he stumbled backward and tottered a bit before regaining his balance.
“*James!*” she yelled. She knew the bird had to be nearby--and he would hear her.
“What are you doing?” Clarkent asked her as she mounted the black horse. Despite the fact that she was wearing a dress, she put her legs on both sides of Phantom, as he was not wearing a sidesaddle.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped back, her hands shuffling her skirt to make it rest easier on the horse. “I’m going home.”
“Phantom only responds to my commands,” he told her, sounding irritatingly smug as she tried and failed to get the horse to move. “Peri taught him that.”
Rolling her eyes, she leaned down toward the ebony horse’s head. “**Phantom, my name is Princess Loisette, and I really need to go home. Do you think you could do that for me?**”
The horse twisted his neck a little, as if to look at her, and then said, “**I’m only supposed to follow the instructions of the stableboy who wears the black armor.**” He seemed a little surprised that she could communicate with him.
“**I know that’s what Peri told you, but can you please make an exception this once?**” she pleaded.
“What are you *doing*?” Clarkent asked, but she ignored him.
“**Please, Phantom,**” she tried again.
“**Your Highness?**” a voice called, and Loisette looked up into the sky. James had arrived. She smiled. At least something was going right.
“**The bird--James--will lead us,**” she told Phantom. “**Please help me. I really need to go home.**”
“**All right,**” the horse said reluctantly. “**I will take you this one time.**”
“**James,**” she called upward. “**Lead me home.**”
The Peregrine Falcon circled in the air above her. “**You need to stay here, Your Highness,**” he told her. He sounded uncomfortable, likely because he had realized she now knew the helmetless Clarkent’s real identity.
But right now, she didn’t care about his comfort. “**I’m going home, James, and you’re going to lead me there.**”
“**I can’t--**”
“**James!**” she growled. “**I’m going home! Don’t forget--I will soon be the queen of Metropolita, and as such, I will have power over Peri.**”
“**You’re not queen yet,**” James pointed out.
“**Fine,**” she gritted. “**Then I will go without you. But if I get lost, it will be on your head!**” She lowered her head, resolved to leave this place.
“**All right, Your Highness,**” the bird said meekly. “**I will lead the way.**”
A smile of triumph touching her face, Loisette snapped the reins and kicked her heels into Phantom, who lurched forward. Then she turned and saw Clarkent running after them.
“Phantom, stop!” he called out desperately. “Princess, please don’t go! It’s too dangerous!”
But she simply continued to spur Phantom on and follow James through the forest. There was no way Clarkent would be able to catch them. Especially not with that cursed black armor on. She was safe from his meddling at least.
****
When Loisette was near the castle, James left her, perhaps to go back to Clarkent or to see Peri. She went to the Riding Stable and put Phantom in Penelope Grace’s old stall, not knowing what else to do with him. She politely asked Dwayne if he would take care of the horse, and he agreed with a puzzled look, but she didn’t stick around to answer the questions he must have had.
Finally, she went into the castle. Though she held her head up high, her resolve was beginning to fail her. What if Clarkent had been right? What if Alexander *did* mean to make her marry him? Was she walking right into his trap? She had never thought of Alexander as more than a cousin. It was possible she wouldn’t have the luxury of marrying for love, but she *knew* she couldn’t marry him. That was something she could not bear, and she would do almost anything to avoid it. Despite her defense of him to Clarkent, there truly was a part of her that didn’t like the man.
“Your Highness?” a voice said unsurely, and she turned.
A guard was standing there and looking surprised. “Your Highness, are you safe?”
They must have known something had happened to her. “Yes, I am,” she told him, her voice steady. “Where is Regent Alexander?”
The guard looked down at the floor. “The Regent was murdered by the Black Knight, Your Highness, before that criminal escaped with you.”
“What?” Loisette whispered. “He’s . . . dead?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the guard confirmed solemnly. “Regent Tempos has been worried about you. How did you get away?”
“He didn’t want to hurt me,” she murmured, turning away from him. Alexander was dead, and now Tempos was Regent? How had everything changed in such a short time?
Her thoughts flashed to Clarkent. She didn’t want to believe him capable of murdering a monarch--she balked at the thought of her kind friend doing such a thing. Could Tempos himself have done it? There were all those rumors about what had happened to his wives . . . .
One thing was for certain. Even if Sir Tempos--now a Duke, she supposed--was only Regent for less than a day, it could not be good. He had never been “nice” to anyone--much less actually worried about someone as the guard had indicated. She might have doubted that Alexander would force her into marriage with him . . . but she wasn’t sure she could put it past his brother.
“Regent Tempos is in the throne room, Your Highness,” the guard supplied helpfully. “Shall I escort you there? I am certain he will have a lot to talk to you about.”
Loisette looked at him for a few seconds. She would much rather have been with Clarkent . . . and then she remembered that he was the Black Knight, an accused murderer and someone she had thought was her friend until she discovered he had been deceiving her for years. Her mood darkened, and she took in a deep breath. There probably wasn’t any way she could get out of seeing Tempos, so she might as well go quietly.
“Very well,” she acceded. “Take me to him.”
