Bela jumped six feet in her chair as she heard the dull thud of metal on metal, but Dean was still in the saddle, and that was all that mattered. "Thank God," she murmured, hands clasped tight. She would be giving him back rubs - surreptitiously, of course - until the cows came home for this.
But wait, they were lining up again. "What happens?" she asked no one in particular.
"Why, they fight until one of them is unhorsed, of course." The lady in waiting raised an eyebrow, and grinned roguishly. "Lord Winchester seems to be handling himself well enough."