I winded myself, crash landing onto the craft. The whole thing rocked; I had to scratch at the cedar just to hang on. I pinched my skin between planks, but when I reared, nearly fell again.

I fastened myself to the edges for dear life. The rider yelled something I couldn't understand over the sailing wind, but I saw my father hang out the window sill. He jumped shortly after, landing far more gracefully upon a different beast.

"Eliza!" he cried.

"I'm fine!" I called.

I tried to stand, but the roof of the dragon's back was curved and slick. I pressed my knees into my chest, inching toward one of the ends, pawing for an opening. At the front, there was a gap; I took my sword and jabbed it into the seat.

The driver must have dodged it; there was a tug on the blade, and I was jerked off onto the nose.

I rolled off my back, retrieving the weapon and stabbing it a second time. It sliced his sleeve. The tip pushed one of the shields off the cart, opening that side. It fell off and to the dirt.

I realized how close we were to the dirt.

"Oh, shit!" I yelled.

We soared toward the ground; I leaped off the plane with seconds to spare, falling into mud.

"Ah!" My arm went sore and limp.

It was difficult to hurry out without the use of both my hands. I slipped twice before the driver, making his own noises, groans and muttering, crawled out. He drew a dagger from his waist; I tried to reach for my sword, but couldn't make my arm comply; it was lame and the blade was gone.

I reached instead for the dagger, but I could barely find it in the sea of fabric knots. Finally, I drew it just as the Duke appeared. He kicked the man at his belt and knocked him to the ground. My brother ended him.

"Rosie?" he asked, stumbling past the Duke.

But Askar and I were locked in an intense and wild gaze.

"What are you—?" he wanted to know.

I threw myself into Askar, crying, "I love you, you fool!"

Our lips connected in a raunchy kind of kiss. My brother balked.

"Did you just fall out of the sky?" he asked.

Askar exhaled. He was scowling but started searching me. I flinched when he found my arm. "She didn't fall," he said. "She rode a dragon."

"It was by far the dumbest thing I've ever— Daddy!" I cried. "Daddy's on one, too!"

The other beast came down not far from us, but Father was standing on it. He stepped off before it crashed, landing on his feet. The driver hung out the window and rolled into the grass when it hit.

He stormed toward me.

"I'm not sorry!" I cried.

But he was shaking his head. He moved the Duke out of the way and then he hugged me.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid girl," he cried. "You stupid brave, ridiculous girl!"

"Are you crying?" I asked.

"I can't believe that happened," he said. "I've never been so scared."

"It was quite scary," I said. "Are you okay?"

"Not the dragon," he groaned. "Watching you leap out of a tower! I thought I'd lost you."

He squeezed and I yelped back. "My arm!" I cried. "Ow, ow! My arm!"

"What's wrong with your arm?" he worried.

Askar cleared his throat. "It could be broken, sir," he said. "If you let me, I'll try to sling it, but we'll have to move."

Daddy nodded, but then someone growled. The rider stumbled out of the green and to his feet. He charged the King and I, barrelling us into a hedge.

"Eliza!" Askar called.

Will snatched the man by his shirt; Father worked to help thrust him off of us. I tried not to asphyxiate, coughing on dust and smoke and dirt and pain. The bandit freed himself from Willem's grasp, he went for Daddy to strangle him, and I rediscovered my Damascus in the dewy floor.

I buried it into the side of the man's face. His features locked into a portrait of angst or utter shock, and then he fell, a body and nothing more.

"D-Daddy," I cried, fumbling into his embrace. "Daddy, are you okay?"

"Holy shit, Rosie," he said. He met my eyes. "You stabbed his face!"

"You didn't answer me!" I said.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were okay; you didn't–" I swallowed a lump. "You didn't answer."

Father brought me to his chest. I could hear his heart thunder beneath his vest. "I'm okay," he promised.

"Are there more of those things?" I asked.

"There's a knight coming," Askar said.

Instinctively, Father and I broke apart to look. The metal shimmered in flickering light; the bearer's voice boomed across the field.

"Tell me I didn't see what I just saw!" it called.

"Ser Derek!" Father yelled. He rose to his feet, pulling me to mine.

Derek arrived with a fleet of soldiers behind him, bronze as far as the garden went.

"Where have you been?" Dad asked.

"Fighting, Your Majesty," he replied. "We shot down the other thing. Whatever it was. Got the fucker who drove tied up inside. Left 'im with Willoughby. A couple of his friends, too."

"Alone?" I cried.

Derek cocked his head. "Seems I haven't lost my mind. Good evening, Your Highness. Did you ride that beast?"

"And what if I did?" I begged, straightening. "I'd do it again! I'd ride straight into Hell!"

"Oí. You'll have no complaint from me." His brows rose. "I meant no harm; it just ain't every day you see a lady in such a way. Though, you are an Eisson." He looked around. "Is the Queen alright?"

Father sighed. "She's in the Crypt, I hope. Is it over then?" he asked.

Ser Derek narrowed his eyes more out of disinterest than anything. "A few stragglers, sir. Few of the boys are finding them as we speak. Couple boots inside with Willoughby. We'll have answers for you by morn." He elbowed the nearest knight. "Bandits are easy, I say. Not rooted in much. Easy to break."

The Duke touched my fingertips with his. They were tingly, and parts of my arm were numb. It was bruised; it had swollen near the joint.

"If it's safe, Your Majesty, I'll take Eliza inside to see to this," he said.

Father agreed. "With an escort."

More than just my arm was marred. The spirit of the party. The instruments. My mother's favorite settee, which Askar had flipped back over for me to sit upon. He watched me inspect the room as I perched neatly. He knelt on the floor in front of me, folding linen over itself.

"When your doctor returns from Lawrence, he'll need to look at this," he said. "I don't believe it's broken, though."

"It's not?" I asked.

People moved in and out of the room; there was a pile of bent-up armor in the corner near the piano.

"No," he said. "Though it's out of the socket. I'm going to put it back, but it won't be pleasant."

"Okay," I said.

"Are you ready?" he asked, placing his palms above and beneath the elbow.

"Do I need to be ready fo–! Oh, fuck!" I hissed as he forced it together. "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," I whined. I braced myself against his neck.

"Until then, I'll have Ser Fridrick find you a plant in the forest. It will help with the pain."

"Yes, please," I said.

"Can you move it now?" he asked.

"I don't want to," I muttered.

"But can you?"

I could.

"My love." He cradled my jaw in his hand. "You were very brave," he said. "Very strong out there."

"Have you seen Ser Willoughby?" I asked. "I know Ser Derek said that he was inside, but when I left him... I–" I shut my mouth.

Askar whistled; Ser Fridrick arrived at the door a moment later. "Frid. Find Willoughby; tell him to come here."

"No," I shook my head. "If he's busy–"

Ask corrected his order. "Find Willoughby; tell him to come when he can."

"Aye, Your Grace," he said. He left.

"You didn't have to do that," I whispered.

He grinned, shaking his head. "There is nothing I would not do for you, Eliza," he said. "Requirement is little motivation when I am so devoted to your smile."

I rolled my eyes but could not help but give him what he wanted.

"There it is," he sang. "Beautiful."

"I was so scared for you," I said.

He lifted my arm carefully, placing it in the sling he had created. He kissed my knuckles, then my shoulder, and then my cheek, and then my lips.

"I was scared for you," he said. "Obviously, that was wasted effort. You can handle yourself."

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"For fighting with us. For killing. For keeping my brother and my family safe."

"Our family, love," he said. He wet his lips. "Although, technically, I never got to ask..."

We found each others' eyes.

"Ask now," I whispered.

"Marry me?"

I nodded, slowly at first, then rapidly, my eyes stung with tears. "Yes, Askar, I'll marry you."

"And love me?" he checked.

"I already do," I confessed. "Or did you think that I said it in the heat of battle?"

He shrugged. "I thought I would make sure."

"You're horrible," I teased. I pressed my lips to his. "My horrible, horrible Duke."

"Horrible, but completely yours," he said.

"I love you," I returned.

"Eliza?" Willoughby asked.

Askar and I separated. My Knight walked into the room. His armor was stained in blood and sweat; it turned the bronze a mangy orange.

"Are you well?" he asked. "I heard you rode a dragon."

I stood up. "Are you? Are you well?" I asked. I smoothed the rippling tatters of my skirt. It was no longer purple but a dusty gray. "Are you well, Ser Willoughby?"

He came forward, collecting me, and neither of us spoke.