A knight in shining armor rescues a princess from a tower, but let's make it sapphic. Rating: PG-13

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Galloping hooves and clanking armor fill my ears as I charge toward the dark fortress, one of twenty Knights of East Abria. Purpose floods my veins, sharpening my senses and readying my muscles for a fight.

Men shout and roar around me. Swords glint in the sunlight. As we roll over the grassy hillside like a storm, it’s clear why we are considered the most powerful force in the eight realms.

Except I’m struggling to stay in the saddle, wheezing for breath as my chestnut mare throws a fit beneath me.

Catching up on his bay stallion, Sir Athdar laughs heartily. “Brianna, darling, part of becoming a knight is learning how to ride.”

“It’s Dame Brianna,” I shout, pulling the reins. “And I’ll gladly trade you for your pussycat of a stallion.”

God Almighty. If I make it home, I’m going to have a word with the stablemaster. This mare is barely broke to ride and has the personality of cursed fire.

Queen Augusta’s castle looms ahead, its stone towers brighter than those back home, with ivy and flowers blanketing the sides. I hate to call it lovely, given that these towers are imprisoning our princess, but it truly is.

With a groan, I use all my strength to keep my mare’s head up and stop her from bucking. Finally, she gives up the fight and surges forward. Satisfaction pulls my lips into a grin as we pick up speed.

“See you at the tower,” I shout over my shoulder, and we pull ahead of Sir Athdar, the mare’s hooves chewing up the grass.

After fighting hard to earn my place as a knight, I’d naively hoped the others would accept my achievement. But my journey to knighthood was only the beginning of my battle.

I should have known this struggle would stay with me for life. Only three women have ever been knighted, and two were accepted because they were noble-born. The other was accepted because her twin brother was a knight, and the royals saw it as a good omen.

As for me? I’m here on skill alone.

My build has never served me. I’m too tall, too muscular, and according to most men, not feminine enough in any sense of the word. But I was born for knighthood. I’ve imagined it since I watched a joust at six years old, and now, as I cross the plains on my first mission with the wind stinging my cheeks, my heart fills with victory.

I just hope I can prove that I deserve the title.

My fiery mare gets me to the drawbridge first. Queen Augusta’s guards see us and are rushing to raise it—but the mole we sent yesterday did his job well. The chains are cut, and the bridge will not rise.

“Charge!” Sir Athdar calls, taking the word from my mouth.

We storm across in a clatter of hooves, meeting Queen Augusta’s guards with our swords swinging.

The knights around me dive into the fight, swarming the courtyard, roaring and whooping like they’ve waited a lifetime for this.

My thoughts are in one place: the tower on the right with the butterfly-shaped stone on the side. That’s where the Green Witch said Princess Enid is trapped.

“Check all of the towers!” Sir Athdar shouts, directing the other knights with the tip of his sword.

“It’s this one!” I shout, pointing to the one on the right.

“So the crone said. She could be wrong.”

I grit my teeth. He might not trust the Green Witch, but she has served East Abria for a hundred years, and her word is our best shot.

I steer my mount through the crowd, aiming for the tower with the butterfly-shaped stone. The mare responds eagerly, as keen as I am to get away from the clashing swords and bloodshed.

We skid to a stop at the wooden door, and I leap from the saddle.

“See what happens when we work together?” I say to the mare, who snorts and tosses her head.

I attack the wooden door with my ax, grunting with the effort.

Please be the right tower. We don’t have time to blunder around the castle. We have one chance, and if the Green Witch’s vision was wrong, we might all die before we find Princess Enid.

Sir Athdar reins to a stop beside me and dismounts. “If you’re so stubborn, then.”

“I owe you a flagon of mead if I’m wrong.”

With a few swings, we crash through the door. I stumble into the dark tower, regaining my balance with considerable effort as my armor tries to weigh me down.

As I’m the first one inside, Sir Athdar pushes me onward, readying his sword and shield. “Go, Brianna! We’ll hold them off.”

“It’s Dame Brianna!” I race up the spiral stairs, my heavy armor making me lose my breath rapidly.

I pass door after door, trusting the witch’s instructions. The top. She’s at the very top.

I trip in the darkness, unable to see a bloody thing through my helmet. I remove it and set it in a nook for later, then push my short, dark locks off my sweaty forehead and keep going.

Finally, the stone steps end, and I come to another wooden door.

Wheezing for breath, I raise my ax.

“Princess Enid?”

“Go away!” a muffled voice shouts from the other side.

My heart leaps. We’ve done it. That tone is definitely hers.

I set to work on the hinges, gasping for breath between swings. Sweat rolls down my back, dampening my tunic.

The hinges crack, and I kick the door down.

“Princess?”

An unmade bed sits in the middle of the circular room, covered in jewels of every color. Tapestries, furniture, and bookshelves fill the space, as extravagant as I would expect from Queen Augusta.

Princess Enid stands against the far wall, illuminated by a beam of sunlight coming through the window. My chest flutters at the sight of her, tall and mature in a green gown. Her pale skin is dusted in freckles, just like I remember.

“Leave at once!” she says fiercely, holding up her fists.

I’m frozen in place.

The last time we saw each other, we were hardly fourteen. Now, she’s a seventeen-year-old beauty, her face full, her waist curved, her curly red hair well-groomed. Her familiar features pull my memories forward, making my insides tingle—her soft skin beneath my palms, her lips against mine, the rush of something forbidden coursing through me. How often did we escape to the stables during that year together? Fifty, sixty, a hundred times?

Heat rises in my face. God, I thought my feelings had dissolved. With years to forget her and knighthood to draw my focus, I’d hoped she could become my past and nothing more.

Seeing her now, I’m weak in the knees, and I know I failed to forget about her.