The banners of Ashford fluttered in the warm spring air, the orange canopy casting dappled light over the high stands. Leila sat beside her father, hands folded in her lap, the weight of expectation heavy upon her shoulders. The cheers of the crowd swelled as a lone knight rode forth, his armor polished and nicely decorated.

He stopped before the dais, lifting his helm to reveal a face young yet determined. "My lady," he said, voice steady. "I would ride as your champion and bear your favor into the lists and join the knights protecting your title as Queen of Love and Beauty."

Leila's hazel eyes studied him, searching for arrogance, for empty bravado. She smiled back at him.

She loosened the ribbon at her wrist, its orange and white strands catching the breeze, and let it fall into his waiting hand. "Do not ride off just yet. Tell me your name so I know all my champions."