I whispered sarcastically, "Thank you, Aunt Martha."She said, "Okay, I get it. You're right, I'm fussing over you too much. I should just let you be."...She finished with my tie and settled into her seat, leaning closer to me and pointing toward the stage. "You see that girl over there on the right? In the white blouse and blue skirt? Next to that guy in the red plaid shirt."Onstage, the cast of ten or twelve stood up to hear a few words of instruction from Howard, and I looked at the girl Martha. She was everything she'd expected from a knight. She was chivalrous and handsome, and well-spoken. She wore shining silver armour, even if it had been blackened a little by the dragon's fire. She was, in every way, the perfect knight.Mariella remembered all the stories she'd read as a little girl. The stories that had spun around and around inside her head during her years of captivity. In the stories, the knight would always ride to the castle on the back of a white horse. He would slay the. More

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