I’m forbidden to ever talk about the North Korean incident or even ask questions. So many questions. What happened to Spike? Was there actually an atomic bomb? Who or what is Bill Ryker? I will never get answers. And now, I’m leery of anyone wearing an eye patch.

Before we leave Washington to return to Wolf Street School in Manhattan, our new base of operations, Captain Furillo of the NYPD, treats us to a rustic dinner at the Blue Duck Tavern in downtown DC. He is the only policeman I’ve known who is not evasive. He doesn’t like us and says so. However, he does say we are brave, trustworthy, and saved two of New York’s Finest. And, he admits that we would make him happy if we disappeared.

Sir John Fitz Osborne, The Lion, meets us that afternoon. He gives a life lesson to Wolf and me. We have to pay for our expenses. I can afford to pay mine, but Wolf doesn’t have it. I know Wolf well enough not to embarrass him by offering to pay for his. So warm relief spreads over me when our lawyer, Mr. Rosencrantz, informs us that he has negotiated with the embarrassed Department of Homeland Security to pay for our services. It’s a tidy sum. I like him, he is good-looking too. Stop that, girl.

~

On the back of the bus to New York, Wolf nuzzles Losau, whispers to her, and briefly glances at me, confirming without words that he will marry her. Then, during a break in their hugging and kissing, I sit beside her and ask in her language, “What will you do when you are lonely for your family, your brothers and sisters?”

She shrugs. “Kaniwa women have new family; it is the way.”

“What will you do when you have a child?”

“I guard Wolf’s backside. I fight with his baby on my back. Wolf’s friends are my friends; it is the way.”

~

At the Wolf Street School, Headmaster Ishmael hosts a banquet in our honor. The Lion recounts everyone’s valiant efforts to save our school from Spike’s minions. Some younger students pound each other on the back as their names are mentioned. Lady Mary Stewart hands both Wolf and me a large gift box, telling us to open it privately. Then, the Lion calls on Wolf and me to stand on each side at the head table. Holding our hands, he lifts our arms up with his in victory. Our names echo as they are chanted by the students.

Verses of the old student drinking song, Gaudeamus Igitur, echo as students belt it out to fill the dining room.

Lion drops my hand and calls up Losau. I step back as The Lion takes her hand and places it in Wolf’s hand. Losau has that lost, deer-in-the-headlights look. Wolf stares at The Lion, who, in a booming voice, proclaims that Wolf has proven his mettle. He will allow the marriage between Wolf and Losau in two days.

Losau’s face blushes deep cherry. She stands frozen, and Wolf grins, showing his large white teeth. Everyone claps. Some students yelp. A line of well-wishers forms and hugs and handshakes are exchanged freely.

~

Forgotten, I slide out of the room and make my way to the roof. It is a while before Upatu finds me and takes my hand. We sit silently cross-legged. Finally, when I can’t stand it anymore, I ask, “What, no stories, No legends of Tell the Great Hunter?”

“I came to ask you….”

Looking deep into his dark eyes, I can’t read him; he is not smiling. I hope it is the big question. “Yes?”

“Will you teach me to be a knight? I mean, be my knight-master?”

Stunned, my mouth falls open. This isn’t what I expected.

~

Lady Mary Stewart has taken the job of acting administrator of Wolf Street while Lady Sara recovers from the deep wound caused by a spike thrust into her lung. She begins organizing preparations and glows with the responsibility. I suspect being the school’s administrator bored her.

This afternoon, I groom my mustang, Peggy, who has behaved quite well under the student’s care. Angel, a serious-natured student, gives me the student activity logbook and reviews recent improvements. She proudly shows me the horse’s new wash area, which has tough artificial grass carpet for the wet horses to roll on. I nod approval and hug her.

Angel tells me that Touch, the blind kitten, did her part in defending the school. Our brave little furball sidelined one of Spike’s blue-hooded minions by scratching up his face, possibly saving Sara from far worse injury. Since then, the cat often lies on a stall separator, her favorite perch, except for when she curls up on the back of Hope, the school's enormous Belgian.

Hope’s condition pleases me. The once starving horse has gained the beginnings of a belly, at least another hundred pounds. I order several students to walk all the horses through their paces to test their skills.

~

Wolf is grooming Nudge, and on a whim, I grab him by the shoulder and drag him into the back alleyway, holding him against the wall. I growl, “Losau doesn’t know all of our ways. She is isolated here and depends on you. Teach her English. She hardly said a word at her bridal shower last night. Upatu’s English is passable; hers should be too.”

“I’m trying the best I can. But Losau fights me on it,” Wolf whines. “I’ll try harder.”

He tries to walk away, and in anger, I slam him back against the wall. “You remember your knight’s lesson? Say it. Say it.”

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“A knight absolutely never, ever quits,” he answers through gritted teeth.

“And don’t forget it. Teach her English. Also, if you ever cheat on her, I’ll come after you.” I let him go. “There, I’ve spoken my mind. I hope it takes.”

Wolf’s eyes narrow, and without a word, he backs away.

~

The school’s matron, Lady Henshaw, takes Losau along with Sara and me to Kleinfelds to shop for a wedding dress appropriate for the bride of a teenage knight. Unfortunately, the store doesn’t have one in Losau’s size other than not-for-sale samples.

Even for a Kaniwa woman, she’s petite, less than five feet tall, and not a hundred pounds. The huntress spies a satin off-the-shoulder blood-red bridesmaid dress that fits her perfectly. She squeals in delight when trying it on. She grabs a crown-like headdress made from blue-green silk Dendrobium Orchids and a blue silk orchid for her to carry. Pumps are ordered dyed to match her gown, completing her ensemble.

Sara and I must rent bridesmaid dresses in shocking pink. Hideous does not begin to describe how it looks on me. It does not match my tattoo, which I will not hide. Give me my fabulous blue dress, please.

~

Returning from my afternoon exercise routine, I see the Viking longboat shield of Sir Eric Erickson added to the hallway wall next to the shields of the Ladies and Knights present. I am not a fan of his, but he has been nice to me. And for his age, he is dreamy and ruggedly handsome. His visits always have interesting consequences, like ending up in the Amazon. I wish Whisperblade, my grandmother, would marry him. After watching them fight each other with swords, I knew they were made for each other, but she is steadfast in her refusal.

Sir Ericson sparks awe from students as he strides in wearing his knight’s uniform and sporting his huge gray handlebar mustache. He leads his mighty white mare, Quicksilver. The horse sports a gray mane and tail and is a hit with the students, who take charge of the destrier.

He hands out new wooden practice swords to the students and starts their lessons, lessons I will be stuck with teaching after he leaves. Then, during evening free time, he regales them with a slow, dramatic retelling of the legend of Beowulf, his voice heavy and low, sending chills up my spine. Enough of that, girl.

~

Losau made a tent of blankets in the middle of the exercise floor, and three of the youngest boys with two girls are with her. I check on them and cringe; she wears only her loincloth. The Kaniwa have no concept of modesty, nor do the curious students, it seems. With a few words and hand signs, she tells the children a comic legend of Tell the heroic, if inept, hunter and Pumba the great and hapless Jaguar.

I bark sharp words; actually, Kaniwa curses at Losau to break up the party and order her to put on her nightgown. Hopefully, the children were entertained by her story more than her variety of body tattoos.

~

Two days after the homecoming victory banquet: Wolf and Losau’s wedding day arrives. After stretching, I pace the younger students, outfitted in their gym clothes, on the run around the block, leading the horses. Later, I notice the children from Losau’s tent party following her around when they should be at their chores.

I hardly have time to finish breakfast before Lady Henshaw enlists Sara and me. As Losau’s bridesmaids, she insists that we help prepare her for the ceremonial journey from maiden to womanhood.

As Henshaw describes the symbolic meaning of each ingredient and step of her precious rituals, Sara and I give Losau a candle-lit bath infused with oils, rose petals, sea salts, and herbs such as rosemary and lavender in a tin tub in the kitchen. Once she is towel dried, a few older girls are brought in to help her dress in the wedding attire. As Losau is slowly fitted in the red gown and orchid headdress, they stand in awe. Finally, Lady Henshaw hands her the ribbon-wrapped orchid with a flourish. She is no longer Losau, a child of the forest, but a true bride of a knight. And has remained silent, fulfilling another tradition. Still, she looks tribal and timeless; but today, she will become Losau Sureblade, no longer a Kaniwa huntress.

Losau is kept in the kitchen while I go down to the stables to see if preparations for the wedding are complete. I needn’t have bothered. Enthusiastic older students have rearranged the stables under the direction of Headmaster Ishmael and Lady Stewart. Wolf’s knight’s ensign hangs above the makeshift workbench altar covered in flowers and vines from the school walls. The horses are picketed in the back alleyway, except for Wolf’s great dapple gray Percheron. Nudge is decorated for the occasion with blue and green ribbons tied to his mane.

~

The first limousines with guests arrive, and one is the Almighty Lord High Mayor of the City of New York, Michael, himself, accompanied by the chief of police, and Captain Furillo. He kisses Lady Stewart, winks at me, and looks over the gathering crowd. I hurry back upstairs.

After rushing to put on our horrid pink gowns, Sara and I suffered while having our hair fixed. My hairdo is easy. My Japanese wig is set on my crewcut head and pinned. It sharply contrasts with Sara’s perfect angelic, long blond ringlets, which the girls fuss over. We can’t do anything with Losau’s straight black hair; it is too short to braid or curl. Instead, Sara applies coconut oil to make it shine. Lady Henshaw whispers secret motherly advice in Losau’s ear and gives her a kiss on the forehead before going downstairs. It is time, Sara and I go down, escorted by two of the older boys dressed in new blue uniforms.

~

Wolf stands at the altar in his dress uniform, sword on his belt, with Sir Ericson as his best man. Once we are all in place, the simple yet pleasant-sounding music begins, a Kaniwa tune played on panpipes by Upatu. Everyone stands.

Losau is escorted by The Lion, dapper in gray tails, very British. The orchid-crowned bride is resplendent in her red satin gown but barefoot, having kicked off the red pumps. There is a collective gasp. I don’t know if it is because she looks fourteen instead of eighteen, the blazing red dress, her tattooed face, and shoulders, or her welded gold nose ring, hallmarks of all mature Kaniwa women.

The audience looks to be the high society of New York. I glance at Lady Stewart, who gives me a slight wink back. Leave it to our cunning patroness to make this work to our school’s best commercial advantage. She invited guests who could be potential patrons. This wedding is the to-see-and-be-seen and not-to-be-missed fundraising social event of the year in disguise for social climbers in Manhattan.

The Mayor conducts the wedding, vows are pledged in Kaniwa and English, and rings are exchanged except Wolf, the idiot, forgot to buy one. Sir Ericson supplies one that fits. The nervous couple sips wine from a delicate crystal stemmed glass. It is then wrapped in a towel and broken underfoot by Wolf. I know it is a Kaniwa tradition to use boar’s blood in a gourd cup. However, I smirk and politely neglect to tell anyone of that minor detail.

Wolf and Losau Shureblade parade down the aisle and out the door to his horse. He mounts, pulls his bride up to sit side-saddle in front of him, and with broad smiles and waves, they are gone.

~

I retreat into the tack room, used as a coat room, to hide unexpected tears. Sara follows me. Her weeping is bitter, and she slams me with a hug. I ask, “What is it?”

“I should have married him, but I let him slip away. It’s all my fault,” Sara answers.

Lady Guinevere, our old classmate and The Lion’s formal escort, approaches us on her forearm crutches. “I… also would have… married him,” she says in her halting voice, a remnant of her past paralysis.

“I too would have married him, but I pledged to a good friend,” I say.

“And I would have released you from that foolish pledge a long time ago,” Lady Knight Amara, Wolf’s older sister, says from the doorway.