“You’ve not yet been home a day,” Guenevere said. Her eyes were dark. “Arthur -”

“Jenny,” he murmured.

The page bounced, impatient, not but enough to interrupt his king.

Emrys cleared his throat pointedly. Arthur sighed.

“Ector, get Agravaine and the others. Give Lila some armor – we ride.”

“Of course, My Lord.” Emrys cast Lila a look; she nodded and bowed. Arthur swept out of the smithy, barking orders. Guenevere and Morag hurried after him. Ector ducked out of the smithy, hollering, Knights! To me! Some of the pages darted away to summon their masters. One squire – he served Safir, Lila thought – handed her a smaller hauberk, cuisses, greaves, gauntlets, pauldrons, and a gorget, and a red surcoat without a blazon.

“Here, Lady Lila,” he said, his voice low, husky, shy.

“Thank you,” she said. “Have you a gambeson and leggings? And possibly a sword?”

“You can have my old things, lady,” another squire said.

“Can you really fight as well as Sir Tor says?” the first squire asked.

“We’ll find out.”