I’d planned to walk down and hug Marcus, but he was totally focused on Gentry. That didn’t surprise me so much as the fact that Gentry was focused on Marcus. He was leaning down to talk to him, really paying attention to him.

“Now that thou hast seen brother Trang and I fighten,” Gentry was saying, “tell me what thou learnt, Master Marcus. With thine own sword, canst thou touch me?”

Marcus hesitated, but he reached out and tapped his little sword against Gentry’s chest. It thunked against his armor.

“’Tis good,” Gentry said. “A fair touch. Again.”

He had Marcus poke him with the sword four or five times, and then the next time, Gentry shifted his own sword and pushed Marcus’ away.

“Ah, I stopt thee. How?”

“You hit my sword with yours.”

“Yea, Master Marcus. ’Tis called a parry. Again.”

Marcus tried to touch him again, but not quite as sure of himself as he had been, and Gentry pushed his sword away again.

“And if I touch thee?” Gentry reached out and tapped his sword in the middle of Marcus’ chest. It made me flinch, but Marcus giggled. Gentry did it again and got more giggles.

“Thou carest not that I stab thee, Master Marcus? Wilt thou not parry me?”

The next time Gentry tried to tap him, Marcus put his hand up and pushed the sword away.

“Ah, but a true sword is sharp. ’Tis not safe to grasp with thy bare hand. Canst thou parry my sword with thine?” This time, Marcus brought his little sword up and tapped Gentry’s. Not really hard enough to push it away, but Gentry let him.

“Well done, Master Marcus. Again. And now canst use thy shield?”

In another couple minutes, he had Marcus doing something that looked like sword fighting to me. Trang, who’d been watching Gentry, too, looked up and saw me standing on the patio.

“Behold, ’tis Lady Zhorzha,” he said.

“Aunt Zee! Aunt Zee! I’m gonna be a k-night!” Marcus ran across the yard, dragging his sword. He slammed into me so hard that I almost fell backward, but I managed to bend my knees in time. The chain mail was cool against my arms where I hugged him, but under it he was hot and sweaty. Holding on to him made me feel better and worse at the same time. He was safe and he was Marcus and I loved him, but what if he was never going to see LaReigne again? Was I enough?

As fast as he’d run to hug me, he let go and started telling me everything about being a k-night, which included about a hundred words I didn’t know, including greaves and gorget and gauntlet. I smiled and nodded, fighting to keep a calm look on my face. When Gentry reached the patio, he went down on one knee, with his sword held across his chest, the way he’d knelt to me the day we met. Seeing it done in full armor was somehow less bizarre than seeing it done in cargo shorts and a T-shirt. It made sense with the sword and the armor.

“Lady Zhorzha,” he said. “Thy servant.”

“Sir Gentry,” I said, which surprised him enough that he looked up and made eye contact with me. Then he dropped his head and a whole rainfall of sweat droplets fell out of his hair onto the patio and my shoes. It must have been hot as hell under all that gear.

“Master Marcus, ’twas well done for thy first lesson, but let us disarm thee,” he said. “’Tis hot and thou art not accustomed.”

Marcus gave up his armor, sword, and shield, and we went into the house, where I offered to help Charlene do something, anything, but she told me to sit down and color with Elana and Marcus. She and Bernice went back to the kitchen bar, and it sounded like they were planning an event for something at church. I tried to turn my brain off, to just be there coloring, but I felt like my head was full of bees. After a while, I heard that weird grunting and thunking noise I’d heard the day before and, when I looked out the patio doors, I saw Gentry and Trang, swinging swords at each other. Not the low-key back and forth he’d done with Marcus, but really whaling on each other.

When I glanced back at Charlene and Bernice, they had their heads together over a cellphone. Bernice looked at me and then away, like I’d caught her at something. All the sudden, they both got up and went into the laundry room. I could hear them whispering for probably ten minutes, before Charlene came out and gestured for me. I felt light-headed when I stood up. Some of that was from not eating anything since breakfast, but the rest of it was fear.

“Have you seen the news?” Charlene whispered when I got to the laundry room. Bernice had the phone in her hand, and she looked as nervous as I felt.

“Before. Earlier. Have they—” I leaned against the washer. Even though the vibrating made me queasy, I needed the support. “Do they know who it is?”

“No, they haven’t said, but I wanted to be sure you’d heard,” Charlene said.

I nodded and limped back out to the front room. I didn’t want to be rude, but I couldn’t talk about it. After a few minutes, Charlene walked Bernice to the front door. I could hear bits and pieces of what they said: remember to get the ham—need to put the rug back—Gentry can help—did you find the curtain rods? Just boring everyday stuff, but full of the kind of shorthand you use with someone you know really well. Someone like your sister. There was a little bit of silence, which must have been them hugging, and then: love you, baby girl—love you, too—see you on Sunday. I colored harder, trying not to cry.

When Bill came home, Charlene and Gentry cooked dinner, which was taco salad, complete with every kind of thing you could imagine to put on it. I got the impression meals at Gentry’s house always involved lots of things to be sliced and diced. I was relieved not to get the impression that I’d overstayed my welcome.

Toward the end of dinner, my phone vibrated. I slipped it out of my pocket and looked at it under the table. The Gills. Calling me for the third time that day.

“You’re not allowed to have your phone at the table,” Elana said.

“Last I checked, you weren’t the dinner table police,” Charlene said.

“I’m sorry. I need to take this.” I pushed my chair back and answered as I was walking away from the table.

“This is Harold Gill,” he said, so I knew it was serious. So serious it made my taco salad go wobbly in my stomach. He never called. It was always Winnie.

“Hey. I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls, but obviously things are kind of crazy right now.” I mostly wasn’t in the business of apologizing to assholes, but I wanted to play nice. Harold didn’t.

“It has come to my attention that Marcus has not been in school since Monday,” he said.

“It has come to your attention?” I said it like a question, but I knew how he knew. They’d called the school and, since they were on the approved list of people, the office secretary must have told them that Marcus hadn’t been in class.