Morning's Journey Read Online Free PDF Page B

coyly draping her figure’s bewitching curves made him yearn for time to speed ahead to their own nuptials, and to the devil with Gyanhumara and Arthur and everyone else.
    To the devil, in fact, was exactly where Urien itched to send the Caledonian whore. Morghe’s proximity to Gyanhumara sparked an idea. He grinned behind the mask.
    “First Ala team,” said Arthur, “identify yourselves.”
    Urien’s leisurely compliance didn’t appear to irritate Arthur as much as he’d hoped it might.
    Gyanhumara stared at Urien, her face stripped of emotion. She might as well have been wearing a games helm.
    “First Ala team reporting as ordered,” Urien said. “Sir.”
    Executing a salute with enough enthusiasm to keep it from being construed as an insult required more precision than a cavalry drill, but Urien’s latest stint at headquarters had afforded many opportunities for practice.
    “Your team rode well today, Prefect,” Arthur began, cordially enough, though he chose not to employ the title “tribune,” Urien’s preferred manner of address. “However, I noticed the difficulty your second rider experienced in the final race.” His face transformed into a mask as rigid as the one tucked under Urien’s arm. “Who was he?”
    “Lucius, my lord.”
    “Is this true, Decurion?” asked Arthur sternly.
    “A-aye, sir. ’Twere an accident, Lord Pendragon. I swear!” Lucius twitched in his saddle under the Pendragon’s fierce scrutiny.
    “Your negligence could have cost your opponent his life. Decurion Lucius, you are banned from cavalry games for one year,” Arthur said.
    “Banned from—from games?” Lucius didn’t disguise his astonishment. I can still fight with First Ala, my lord?”
    “Of course. With no reduction of rank or pay.” Arthur’s countenance relaxed slightly. “You are far too valuable an asset to your unit. And to me.”
    Lucius responded with a salute and a look that, for all his attempted self-discipline, appeared decidedly grateful.
    “What says Chieftainess Gyanhumara?” Urien ignored Lucius’s gasp and stared at her. “Surely you would want something more done to the man who hurt your friend.”
    She exchanged a swift glance with Arthur, but whatever silent message passed between them, Urien couldn’t decipher it.
    “I support my consort’s decision.” Eclipsing her sword’s pommel with her fist, she spat the words through clenched teeth. “Angusel has taken no permanent harm. Luckily for you, Urien map Dumarec. Being the leader makes you responsible for the actions of everyone under you,” she snapped. “Good and bad alike.”
    Urien scarcely heard Arthur’s agreement or curt dismissal. He glared at the woman who’d caused all his problems.
    Somehow, he would break that iron pride of hers. Urien ran his tongue across his lips. Revenge would taste sweet, and like a prime vintage, he would savor each drop.

    BY THE time Arthur escaped from the dining hall, the moon had sailed high overhead. Gyan had made a sensible retreat much earlier. Part of him didn’t regret having spent time with his men, but the rest of him wished he’d chosen to accompany her.
    The statue of the Roman goddess Diana in the praetorium’s courtyard loomed before him. Moonlight transformed the water cascading from her jug into a silvery stream, and it glittered in the ripples around her feet. This chunk of marble had witnessed countless hours of Arthur’s time as a student, sometimes with Merlin at his side to lecture and rebuke and praise, but more often not. Arthur map Uther preferred the luxury of solitude.
    He wondered whether marriage would change that. Yet having Gyan for his partner made it a welcome prospect.
    As a boy, he had viewed the stone goddess as the perfect embodiment of womanhood. Every detail shone flawlessly beautiful, down to the neatly sculpted fingernails. When the first stirrings of manhood had come upon him, he’d found fleshly women to be somewhat less than perfect.