“All right then,” Dain said. “I won’t—”

“And even if you broke the rules and entered the joust, what makes you think you could win? You are very good, Dain, but you—” “All right! I won’t fight,” Dain said in a huff. “I’ll just wear the armor and—” “And what?” Thum broke in.

“With the helmet on, I can approach the king.”

“The guards won’t let you within a stone’s throw of his majesty.”

“I can ride up to his box and speak to him.”

“They won’t let you,” Thum insisted.

Dain set his jaw and glowered off across the enclosure toward the far stands.  Purple and gold banners—the king’s colors—flew merrily in the hot wind, marking his majesty’s box in the stands. The man was so close, and yet he might as well have been on the other side of the realm. And what good was Thum, if he meant to raise objections to everything Dain suggested? Frustration spread through Dain.  He released an angry breath and dug in the dirt with his boot toe.

“You had better wait for a proper audience, Dain,” Thum said softly.

There was kindness in his voice, but pity also. Hearing that, Dain stiffened.  All his instincts urged him to seize whatever chance he could, while opportunity remained. He glared at his friend. “Waiting is for fools. I won’t give up.”