Doug had turned to look at William as he waited for the referee’s call to battle. I squinted as I watched him. He seemed to be studying William, too. An intimidation tactic?

After swapping out his shield, Doug strode to the center of the battlefield where the referee stood. Haltingly, William turned toward them, stumbling as he took his place. I frowned. What was up with that? He’d seemed so confident during the first bout. Maybe the defeat in the second bout had shaken him.

The two knights faced off again, swords poised as they awaited the signal to begin. The moment the yellow flag lifted between them, they began pounding each other. It was so surreal to watch these grown men playacting their war games when I had lived through an actual war. In fact, I’d been born in the middle of a war zone and survived for years in a city under siege.

I shuddered, forcing the horrible memories from my mind.

William was heading toward Doug again, but his movements were halting and haphazard. He swung and hit only the air, and his shield was cocked at an awkward angle, almost as if to block the spectators from watching him fight. The crowd cheered louder and stomped harder.

William stumbled within striking distance and his sword came down hard on Doug’s injured shoulder. Doug let loose a loud string of curses that could be heard over the din of the crowd. The referee blew a whistle and called for them to separate. Both knights lowered their weapons and raised their visors.

“Foul, Black and Silver, for attacking a previously injured portion of the opponent’s body in an unchivalrous manner. Black and Silver, this is a yellow card warning! One more such penalty will disqualify you. And you—Red and Gold. You are hereby warned about your unchivalrous language. Have a care, sir.”

William nodded, his eyes fixed on the ground, but Doug was staring at William through narrowed eyes. I couldn’t tell whether he was angry or plotting. His lips thinned as he turned to the crowd and raised his sword to drum up more noise. The crowd happily complied.

William’s entire body stiffened—if such a thing could be detected under all that armor. I wondered what the hell Doug was up to. Earlier, he said something about knowing an opponent’s weakness being the key to winning a duel. Until a few minutes ago, William hadn’t displayed any weaknesses.

The crowd was clearly bothering William. I hadn’t noticed it until Doug approached me and asked for my favor, then roused the crowd to cheer. Had that been a calculated move on Doug’s part? It sure as heck hadn’t been sentimental. Doug didn’t work like that. He’d had a reason for asking me for that favor when he did and making such a production of it.

Doug pushed forward the minute he was given the signal by the ref. He landed two direct hits in quick succession. William was forced to retreat without making a single attempt to block. The crowd roared. With one more hit, the bout—and the duel—would be Doug’s. And though I’d originally felt it would be good for my purposes if he won today, I suddenly wished he wouldn’t.

William readjusted his large shield against his side. Doug raised his sword again, but this time as a signal to the crowd to cheer louder. They did so in earnest by stomping, yelling and whistling with even greater fervor. I, however, was focused on William. It was hard to read body language under a layer of steel, but with his shield sagging and his sword jutting at a strange angle, he clearly looked uncomfortable.

Doug moved toward him and William suddenly charged, moving faster than he had before. William snuck a hit in on Doug before fending off what would have been the final blow. The crowd was on its feet now, including me. It was so close.

The ref stopped play again and William paced in circles, his gauntleted fist opening and closing at his side, his helmet turning as if he was shaking his head inside there. Doug turned to the crowd, raising his hand as if to get the crowd to shout louder. A shudder passed through William’s whole body.

When the flag between them was lifted, William lunged almost too soon and started chopping away at Doug randomly. Gone was the precise, staid style of fighting that had worn Doug down during the first bout. Now William’s energy almost seemed chaotic and Doug fended him off easily.

Until William’s sword landed on him once again…at the juncture of his breastplate and helmet. We all jumped up and down, screaming. William had gotten his last hit.

And yeah, I was probably happier about it than I should have been. Everyone was cheering so loudly that no one heard the ref’s whistle until both contenders raised their visors. It took a few minutes, but the crowd quieted down.

Something was wrong. The ref was not declaring William the winner.

“Due to another yellow card violation—a strike against the neck piece—I hereby declare the Knight of Black and Silver disqualified. Red and Gold, you are the winner of this duel.”

The group of people behind me—William’s friends and family—were questioning each other in tight voices. I turned around to look at them. Mia was watching William carefully, her pretty face creased in a frown. Alex was complaining loudly, and Adam and Heath had their heads together, conversing. Others were in a similar state of confusion. Doug’s friends, of course, were ecstatic, and Caitlyn and Ann, who sat on either side of me, cheered. “He won! Your man won!”

Doug raised his visor to reveal the grim smile on his face. He appeared supremely satisfied. A chant went up. “Sir Douglas! Sir Douglas!” Inexplicably, my stomach bunched in a knot. I couldn’t help but feel bad for William. He had fought such a good fight with quick and powerful hits.

Within minutes, there was a crowd around Doug, and William took off in the direction of the camping site where the sleeping tents were set up. As a group, we had camped the night before in preparation for the weekend’s events. Beyond watching the duels, we non-fighters also had work to do. After lunch, there would be a yearly planning meeting for our club, traditionally held at the beginning of every spring.

Two more knights filed into the ring for a practice duel. I let out a deep breath. Might as well get this over with. Perhaps he wouldn’t take it too hard on the tail end of his “great victory.”

My two closest friends in our clan, Caitlyn and Ann, walked with me. Ann chatted amiably about the duel while Caitlyn called and waved to people along the way, sometimes peeling off to go hug or greet someone.

I, on the other hand, was quiet, already mentally practicing my breakup dialogue.

“Are you happy that your man won?” Ann asked suddenly.