Paper! Paperboy!

The knight stopped in front of Elizabeth, his glare shifting between her and Willem. "Your mother has been looking for you, my lady."

Elizabeth crossed her arms, her stubborn streak flaring. "I'm not a child, Sir Eamon. I can look after myself."

"Not when you're gallivanting with—" the knight gave Willem a disdainful once-over, "—street rats."

Willem raised a hand. "Technically, I'm a paperboy. But I can see how the distinction might be too complicated for someone in a helmet."

Elizabeth stifled a laugh, but Sir Eamon wasn't amused. He stepped closer to Willem, towering over him. "You'd best learn to hold your tongue, boy."

"And you'd best learn to polish your boots," Willem shot back, glancing down. "They're filthy."

Elizabeth gasped, her eyes widening in delight. "Willem, stop!" she whispered, though she was clearly enjoying the exchange.

Sir Eamon looked like he was about to explode. "How dare you—"

"Sir Eamon!" Elizabeth interrupted, stepping between them. "Leave him alone. He's harmless."

"Harmless?" Willem muttered, offended. "I could be dangerous! You don't know!"

Elizabeth ignored him. "Tell my mother I'll be along shortly. And stop acting like I'm about to run off with a pirate."

Sir Eamon hesitated, his jaw tightening, but he eventually bowed stiffly. "As you wish, my lady." He shot Willem one last glare before turning and marching off.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Willem exhaled. "That man's got the personality of a soggy loaf."

Elizabeth grinned. "You shouldn't provoke him. He's my father's squire."

Willem blinked. "Your father's squire? As in, the Grand Collar Knight?"

Elizabeth nodded, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

"Oh, brilliant," Willem said, throwing up his hands. "First I'm chatting with a noble, and now I've insulted a knight's squire. You're trying to get me thrown in the stocks, aren't you?"

Elizabeth shrugged innocently. "It does make life more exciting, doesn't it?"

"Exciting?" Willem groaned. "I'm going to need more bread for this."