The Summer Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

illustrious marriage, and it is your duty.’
    Alienor felt as if she was being forced into a box and the lid nailed down, shutting out light and life. No one had cared to tell her, as if she was no more than a valuable parcel to be passed from hand to hand. How was it going to benefit her to be lady of all she surveyed if it was going to be handed on a platter to the French? She felt hurt and betrayed that her tutor had known all this time and said nothing, and that her father had been harbouring this intent even as he bade her farewell forever. She might as well indeed spend her life eating sugared fruits and listening to foolish gossip.
    Reining Ginnet around, she dug in her heels and for a moment lost herself in the mare’s furious burst of speed, but as the palfrey started to flag, she eased her down again, knowing that no matter how hard she raced, she could not outrun the fate sealed upon her by the deception of those she had trusted most of all.
    Gofrid had not ridden after her, and she drew rein alone on the dusty road and stared into the distance like the anonymous Roman on his lichen-covered plinth. The Archbishop had spoken as if this match was the pinnacle of good fortune, but she could not see it in the same light. She had never envisaged being Queen of France; to be Duchess of Aquitaine was her sacred duty and all that mattered. When she had dreamed of marriage in her private moments, the man standing at her side had been Geoffrey de Rancon, lord of Taillebourg and Gençay, and she thought that Geoffrey had perhaps thought about her in a similar way, although he had never said so.
    With an aching heart, she reined about again and returned to her tutor, and it seemed to her that as she rode the last spangles of childhood fell in the dust behind her, glittered, and were gone.
    On returning to the palace, Alienor went directly to the chamber she and Petronella shared to change her gown and make herself presentable for the main meal of the day, although she was not hungry and her stomach felt as if it were clamped to her spine. She leaned over the brass wash bowl and splashed her face with cool, scented water, feeling it ease the tightness caused by the fierce heat of the sun.
    Petronella sat on the bed, plucking the petals from a daisy and humming tunelessly under her breath. The death of their father had hit her hard. At first she had refused to accept he was not coming back and Alienor had borne the brunt of her anger and grief because there was no one else on whom Petronella could vent her misery. She was a little better now, but still prone to teary moments and dark moods more petulant than usual.
    Alienor drew the bed curtains to shut out the chamber ladies. They would know soon enough – perhaps already did in the way of court gossip – but she wanted to tell Petronella in private. Sitting down beside her, she brushed away the scattered petals. ‘I have news for you,’ she said.
    Immediately Petronella tensed; last time Alienor had brought her news, it had been calamitous.
    Keeping her voice low, Alienor said, ‘The Archbishop says I am to marry Louis, heir to France. He said Papa arranged it before he … before he went away.’
    Petronella gave her a blank stare and then flicked away the daisy stalk. ‘When?’ she asked stonily.
    ‘Soon.’ Alienor’s mouth twisted on the word. ‘He is on his way here now.’
    Petronella said nothing and turned to one side, fussing with the knotted laces on her gown.
    ‘Here, let me …’ Alienor stretched out her hand, but Petronella struck her away.
    ‘I can do it myself!’ she spat. ‘I don’t need you!’
    ‘Petra—’
    ‘You’re only going to go away and leave me, like everyone else. You don’t care about me. No one does!’
    Alienor felt as if Petronella had driven a knife into her body. ‘That’s not true! I love you dearly. Do you think I would have chosen this for myself?’ She met her sister’s furious, frightened stare with one of her