Queen's Heart: An Arthurian Paranormal Romance (Arthurian Hearts Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and a sword. Do you see what peril you might place yourself in? You are thinking with your heart, not your head.” I sighed as I pieced through the dresses in my trunks looking for one that would best set off the flecks of blue in my eyes. “I only wish to protect your heart, Brangien, nothing more.”
    Oh, how those words, this entire conversation would return to haunt me.
    “Some things don’t need to be protected like a chick in the nest, my Lady. Some things need the freedom to fly.”
    She opened a trunk and held up the overdress I had been rummaging for. A blue as clear as the bluebells blooming in the meadows. A damask supple enough to shape itself around my many assets and set off breast and waist and hips. Contrite, I offered, “Choose a dress for yourself too.” She would be at the servants’ table. No reason she shouldn’t look nice as well.
    She knew my wardrobe better than I. She went at once to one of the trunks and pulled out a deep emerald gown that complemented her pretty eyes and would look striking against the red of her hair. “My Lady is generous. If you have no objection…”
    “None at all. It will look splendid on you.”
    “I hope so,” she murmured, almost too low for me to hear, though I’m sure her intent was that I not hear it at all. After all that had been said, she was still trying to catch the eye of Sir Palomides.
    I sight in anticipation of her broken heart. Not even guessing at the heart grief that lay ahead for me.
    ~ ~ ~
    Father and Mother were already both at table when Brangien and I walked into the hall. A half score of his favorite knights as well as a stranger I guessed to be the Cornish messenger sat with Father at the head of the great room near the hearth. Another ten or so knights with their ladies sat at various other tables, along with a score of nobles and their families. With the servants at their long table in the back, the hall was filled to capacity, stuffy and smelling of sweat, rosewater and roasted pig.
    Drustan and Palomides sat near the servants’ table with two minor nobles I knew by sight though not by name. A cluster of handmaids already crowded as close as possible to the men as their table allowed. The wave of disappointment from Brangien was almost tangible. Crafty as she was, though, I had no doubt she’d find a way to Palomides before the night was out.
    Leaving her to her devices, I approached the high table. Smiling wide, Father beckoned me up. We had a good relationship, he and I, but the eagerness he showed at my arrival was beyond the pale. One glance at Mother’s sad and serious eyes only deepened the mystery.
    “Yseult, come, sit beside me!” Father turned to the vacant seat at his side and would have pulled out the chair himself had not Patrice, his favored knight, claimed that honor first. I had come to expect all sorts of courtesies from the knights and knew many expressed more than a passing interest in me for all the obvious reasons, but none of my father’s favored had ever caught my eye. And I was more than willing to wait till one did.
    With a smile toward my mother, who didn’t return the greeting, I took the proffered seat. At once a trencher and cup appeared. When Father didn’t sit but banged a dagger hilt against his plate to get the hall’s attention, I took a hasty sip of the watered wine. And at mother’s continued stern look I took another.
    “My dear guests,” Father began rather expansively, making it obvious he had been enjoying his wine for quite some time.
    Settling in for whatever speech he was about to make, I looked for somewhere easy to rest my eyes. Drustan and Palomides were seated together on a bench with its back to the high table. Palomides had turned to straddle the bench to get a look at the king, but Drustan’ back remained steadfastly turned our way. I frowned at that, until my father’s words distracted me.
    “King Mark of Cornwall”—he waved a dismissive hand at the angry grunts the