The knight wearing the red cape with the golden dragon over his armor reappeared in the afternoon. He was competing in a joust against Merlin's brother, Sir Malcolm. The crier announced the knight as Sir Arthur Pendragon, a name Merlin had heard many times before.
Why had Sir Arthur come so far from Camelot for a modest tournament? Was he passing through and looking to win a few coins? Would he be staying longer?
Merlin had seen the knight's face in the crowd on his way to the archery round, and its beauty had stopped his heartbeat for a moment. Even with his visor down, as it was now, Sir Arthur drew attention effortlessly. He was a little shorter than Merlin, broad but well shaped, strong and easily in the saddle. He handled the lance with carefully restrained power. Malcolm was built like a stone wall, like most of Merlin's brothers, and he was one of their best jousters. But Sir Arthur ducked Malcolm's first charge easily and on the second hit Malcolm's shoulder solidly with his lance and sent him tumbling from his horse.
Arthur reined his horse and jumped to the ground, ducked under the center rope and helped Malcolm to his feet. Malcolm removed his helm, red-faced and out of breath. Merlin's brother had a hot temper and he didn't like to lose, but he acknowledged Sir Arthur's win with a small bow and raised Arthur's hand to the crowd. Arthur said something, and to Merlin's surprise his brother laughed. The crowd approved, cheering them both loudly.
Arthur took off his helm and strode to the dais to receive his appreciation from Lord Balinor. Merlin stood near the front of the dais, and he took in the sight. Arthur had golden, short blonde hair, blue eyes, a sharp jawline and full lips. He looked honest, a pleasing openness in his expression that said he would never cross you. Arthur was, in short, everything a knight was supposed to be - noble, powerful and true. He was gorgeous.
Merlin had never seen his equal. Desire awakened in him; that dreaded, hot, heady, unwelcome feeling that betrayed and stung him, like an adder in his chest. Merlin realized he was staring, silently cursed and looked around to be sure he hadn't given himself away. He was relieved to see no one looking at him.
Lord Balinor tossed the purse to Sir Arthur, who caught it easily and bowed. His eyes flickered to Merlin, and Merlin dared a small smile and nod. A shadow came over Arthur's face and he turned his back deliberately, facing the crowd. He waved once more to the people.
Merlin felt the sting as if it were the swift slice of a knife. He turned his head away in disappointment - only to find someone was watching him after all. His brother Mordred's angry and disapproving gaze was focused on him from the back of the dais, his eyes hooded and far too knowing.