I waved Pate away as I turned the bend at the end of the lane. Looking out across the grounds, I noticed Ser Arthur was already grabbing a brand new lance from his own squire.
He looked resplendent in the whites of his office, with only his plate armor having splashes of purple to represent his house.
My hand tightened around the leather straps of my shield. This damned dornishman might really be a better rider than me.
I knew he would be good, of course—better than good, yet I still thought my own unnatural power would be enough to carry the day.
In reality, I had been a small fish in an even smaller pond, with no one to challenge me and push me to my limits after I grew old enough to compete on an even standing.
The rational part of me had known that already, and my bout with Ser Gawen Gaunt should've set me straight, but it seemed I needed to get my chest caved in a bit to let the lesson really sink in.
As monstrous as I was proving to be in all matters of combat, I had not reached the top of this mountain. The summit was yet unconquered.
A fire rising from deep in my gut spread through me. This… this is what I was brought into this world for. Ser Arthur Dayne would be the first crucible in my path. An anvil where I would shatter myself again and again until something better emerged. Iron ripening into steel.
For I knew that while he had more experience than me, had ridden in more tourneys and against a larger variety of knights, he was not invincible above his horse, not without his flaws.
No man was guaranteed victory. Not when facing me.
xxx
Arianne of Tarth
"By the Seven," her father cursed beneath his breath. He was gripping the railing so hard Arianne thought it might break under him.
"What?" Lady Addison asked. She could barely look at the jousting lane now.
After the first tilts where her brother seemed intent on having his chestplate fused into his torso, any attempt at discretion over the mystery knight's identity had been replaced by naked concern.
"Ser Arthur has the measure of him," he said, shaking his head. "His seat. His strike. His timing. Everything."
His voice must've been louder than he intended, because from the next viewing box over, some whispy-faced riverland knight jeered at them.
"What? Don't tell me you bet on this mystery man, then." He barked out an ugly laugh. "Should've known you don't bet against the Sword of the Morning, stormlander, even if he's dornish an' all that."
Arianne bristled, but since her father did not rise up in response, she stayed quiet. She had noticed the previously enthusiastic crowd turn against Galladon, and she hated it.
The highborn, especially, seemed to take the commons' excitement over the mystery knight as an affront and seemed firmly behind Ser Arthur now.
Taking a moment to calm herself down, she pulled at something deep within her and brought about her special vision.
When she looked down again, the two riders were already turning about to start another round. She kept her eyes firmly on the tiltlane lest she look around and lose herself in the sea of auras she could now sense, and fixated on the man riding against Galladon.
Ser Arthur Dayne's aura was bright, perhaps even more so than her brother. He shone like the star on his house's banner, only a titillating gray the color of a river stone polished to perfection instead of purple.
He wore it tight around him even as he rode, like a cloak that didn't flow in the wind even as his physical white one did. She squinted at him, trying to spot anything different as she had with Lady Lenora.
Then her father suddenly spoke up again. "What's he doing?"
Arianne's focus broke. She blinked, and she would've missed the entire clash if it wasn't for the sound of wood bursting against armor. Her mother winced beside her, still refusing to look down at the lane.
It was only when she knew her brother still sat his horse that she said,"What?" Her voice was trembling. "What is it, Selwyn?"
The man sighed and put his head down. "He's… he's given up." When he looked back up, Lord Salwyn Tarth looked resigned. "His form has broken down. He's not even aiming his lance right."
"Oh, Gal," her mother murmured, followed by quiet sobs escaping her. Her father left the railing to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Arianne's stomach felt like a pit. It couldn't be true, could it? Had he truly stopped trying?
Her mind seemed to rebel at the mere thought of her brother giving up anything, and she fiercely shook her head.
No, Galladon would never just resign himself to losing.
But if Gal was having trouble and she could help him in any way, then she had to do it.
She knew he wouldn't be riding in the tourney as a mystery knight if it wasn't important to him, and anything that mattered to her brother mattered to her house, and there was nothing Arianne wanted more than to be useful to her family.
Activating her vision, she leaned forward and focused on Ser Arthur's form again as he grabbed a new lance. With the riders ready for another tilt, they quickly shot off, galloping at speed to meet in the middle in a shower of violence. Her eyes stuck firmly on the kingsguard knight despite the pang of worry she felt for Galladon.
Like the previous tilt, the knight's lance broke against her brother's chestplate, this time almost knocking him off his horse. The sound was sickening to her ears, but now that she actually saw them clash, Arianne had noticed something, a sudden shift in Ser Arthur's aura in the moment before contact.
At first, she thought it was the simple fact that he was about to strike and so his aura reflected that sudden burst of violence, but there was something else. The color was not quite right. Her eyes stung from using the vision too much in one day, but she needed to see it again to confirm it.
Below, Galladon and Ser Arthur kept riding, and she tried to block off anything else from breaking her concentration. Her father's sighs, her mother's silent sobs, Alysanne's reassuring words to her even as the girl remained stone-faced. Arianne just kept looking.
Then… there!
She didn't understand much about jousting, nothing about its strategies and techniques, but when she watched Ser Arthur's aura spike, followed quickly by a change in direction of his lance, she knew she had figured something out.
Whenever her brother aimed his own lance high to try to bypass Ser Arthur's shield, the knight's aura would shift at the last second, and the point of his own lance would dip into the gap left by Galladon's striking arm.
A tell! That's what that was. The knight had a tell on his form, but it was a tell only she could see. His aura gave him away.
At that realization, Arianne's thoughts started to run wild. Her pulse quickened. She might not know what to do with that information, but Galladon would, and she had to tell him before it was too late.
So with a crazy plan quickly forming in her mind, she pulled Alysanne closer to her and whispered in her ear. She was going to need a distraction.
xxx
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