Family? Forever?

Duke had never won a joust before, even while training at Ye Olde Knight School, but this exceeded his dreams! To beat Otis the Elevated was grand enough, but to have done it all as the champion of Sweet, Sweet Petunia was like having a plate full of gingerbread. (They had that in the Middle Ages, and it was one of Duke's favorite things.)

With the cheers still ringing in his ears, Duke left the tournament field with his company, hopping toward his apple orchards to escort Petunia and Nona (who was Duke's second cousin, twice removed) back to their cottage in a tree.

"Wonderful work back there, sire," Lucas, Duke's tomato chamberlain, was saying at his side. "They'll be talking about this for years to come!"

"Gildersleeve would have been commended you, mon cher Duke," Nona declared. The blueberry's late husband was the only other knight known to have ever bested his brother Otis. "You were so brave."

"All part of a knight's duty," Duke said modestly, but his heart swelled inside him. He cast a shy glance over Nona's head at the slim, red-haired figure hopping along. He hoped to receive an admiring look from the fair princess, but Petunia, curiously, seemed miles away. Her large eyes did not focus on anything in particular, and her lips had contorted pensively into something almost like a frown. That took Duke aback; she of all people ought to be celebrating right then.

"How do you feel, Petunia?" he asked, concerned.

Petunia snapped out of whatever brooding reverie that had held her, and she blinked once. "Me? Oh, I am fine. Thank you, Duke."

She cleared her throat and looked away.

"Okay." Duke wished he could press the issue, but he did not want to do so in front of Nona and Lucas. Instead, he decided to change the subject. "I was thinking of throwing a little banquet tonight. You know, to celebrate. Would you ladies like to attend? Say, eight o'clock?"

"Oh, oui!" Nona nodded eagerly.

Duke glanced over to gauge Petunia's reaction. She formed a fleeting smile, then looked quickly down at her dress.

Was she too tired for a banquet? Today had been hard for her as well, sitting up anxiously in the big pavilion, so close to a crowd filled with Otis fans, not knowing if Duke would win the tournament in her honor.

"I'd enjoy seeing Ducky Manor again, Duke," Nona said companionably. "It's been so many years since I visited your mother for holidays and festivals."

"Well," said Duke, getting an idea, "maybe when you guys are settled in your new castle, we can start exchanging more visits. Feasts and balls and all that stuff."

"Magnifique!" Nona beamed, raising herself up a little. "Petunia is quite a dancer, I'll have you know. Maybe you could teach her the latest steps, dear Duke."

"I don't mind," smiled Duke, gazing at the pretty princess. "Ever tried Ye Olde Chicken Dance?"

Petunia barely glanced at him. "Well... that might not be the best idea at the moment."

Duke tilted his head. "No?"

Petunia turned away slightly. "Observing proper protocol and all, it might be better to sort out a few details first before we talk about dancing."

"Protocol?" Duke repeated.

"If you mean the thing with Otis, Duke won fair and square," Nona pointed out. "The second half of the crest is his to do with as he wishes, and he's given it to us, dear."

"All yours," Duke agreed, smiling.

Petunia's gaze shifted briefly toward Duke, then away again. "I simply think certain things must wait until everything is made clear. Don't you, Duke?"