Page 41 of Cross My Heart

Tyler looked down at his codpiece and boots. “Granted, it may not be strictly AP history accurate.”

“Accuracy be damned. It looks sexy as hell.” Josh even felt bold enough to wink.

Tyler paused at a stall selling masks and selected a bejeweled bull with curling horns, holding it to his face.

“A minotaur.”

“What do you think?” Tyler asked, his voice rumbling behind the mask. “Strong like bull?”

Josh laughed. “It definitely suits your stubbornness. But I think it distracts from the rest of your, uh, package.” He raised his eyebrows at Tyler’s sparkly cock-a-doodle bulge. “Cock and bull?”

“Touché.” Tyler grinned and set the mask back down. “Besides, I’m horny enough as it is.”

Every time they paused to browse, Josh caught himself staring at Tyler striding through the crowd. The aggressive jut of his haunches and the powerful thighs demanded attention. But he seemed so much happier and calmer, just being around people without having to be anyone but himself.

Aside from vendors and actual staged shows, a few characters roamed the Faire as well, acting out small skits and interacting with kids.

Josh turned to watch an alchemist entertaining a circle of kids by performing legerdemain with his flasks and flames. “You know… AP history aside, this is what studying the past should feel like. Curiosity and connection.”

“Right?” Tyler nodded at a knight arguing with a tonsured monk over a sack of loot. “I know it’s not accurate, but it’s like seeing a book come to life.”

Interspersed with the “shoppes” and “taverns,” Josh noticed a scatter of games and challenges that provided different kinds of fun for different kinds of guests, from rowdy to reticent. “I can’t get over this place.”

Tyler pointed out an Axe Throw, a Ring Toss, and even a Grand Battle of Wits, which pitted teams of guests against a huge puzzle with hidden prizes. Jugglers and bubble sculptors. Small stages crowded with boisterous performers dotted the whole Faire. There really was something for whoever might wander past.

As they looped back toward the jousting ground, they spotted a cloak stall that offered options in leather, silk, velvet, and even feathers. Tyler insisted he try a few on, but Josh felt funny when people began to gather and take pictures of him. He still struggled with that kind of direct attention from strangers. Tyler tried to buy him a gigantic royal cape, but Josh begged off. “It looks cool standing here, but imagine dragging it for a couple miles.”

“Ah. True.”

They paused to watch the end of a deadly serious archery competition between a group of small hyperfocused kids wearing crowns, glitter, and diaphanous fairy wings. An eight-year-old boy in lavender batwings won in a squeaker. His name must have been Luis, because the crowd cheered his name loudly.

As soon as they stepped back into the flow of visitors, a family with three little ones stopped to take pictures with them, possibly because they looked like performers. Tyler lifted one of the girls onto his shoulder so fast that all the kids wanted a ride.

As they walked away, Tyler leaned over to mutter, “This I miss. Just being able to walk around and be with people like a person.”

Josh nodded. Maybe that was the difference. Wearing a mask for a day let Tyler relax. Josh had never seen him so playful or easy in a large group of civilians.

They continued browsing the stalls until Tyler insisted they stop to try on silly hats and then some custom chainmail. In the distance, Josh could hear the thunder of hooves. Jousting maybe? Or a race. They passed a huge maypole in full braid and a contortionist rope dancer balanced over a pond.

At the next big intersection, a roaring crowd stood gathered in a ring around a raised log that stretched over a pit padded with giant cushions.

A graceful girl standing up on the log called down to Tyler. She wore a leather jerkin and loose green trousers that laced up the side. “Give you good day, sir.”

Tyler chuckled and shouted back to her in his rough bandit voice, “And you, wench.”

“I am no wench but the sheriff’s daughter.” She moved like a gymnast, and maybe she was. She hopped up on the log and walked toward Tyler’s taunting. He stood so tall and handsome above the crowd that she probably assumed he was one of the characters hired to improvise during the Faire.

“Aye. But who is your mother, wench?” Tyler squinted at her, obviously enjoying himself.

“At that you have me, sir. She were not the sheriff’s wife.” The crowd cackled at that. By all appearances, she really did expect Tyler to jump in and play at sword-fighting on her log, and Tyler seemed more than willing.

Tyler crossed his arms until his chest bulged and barked up at her, “Many a night have I spent in your sire’s cells crying at the moon like a dog.”

“Like the dog you are! A robber. A thief. Will you not fight me honorably?” The girl raised two padded swords and nodded hopefully.

“I have no honor but his—this prince you see by my side.” Tyler turned to Josh. “Him will I fight. This noble man rules my land and my hand.”

Her face lit up. “Well said.”