Free The Prince of Powys by Cornelia Amiri, Pamela Hopkins, Amanda Kelsey

guards.” She pointed him out.
    “He is a guard, like Scan,” Branda said aloud as her mind
    flashed to memories of Blaise chained to the hearth. Even then,
    she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. Why did she miss him so?
    She wouldn’t be held hostage if not for him. He was her enemy.
    He tied her hands, the cur .
    She dunked her spoon into the bowl of venison and
    vegetables swimming in a clinging brown broth. The serving maid
    went on about her duty as Branda shoved spoonfuls of cawl into
    her mouth. The royal bard stepped forth and harped a paean of
    King Elisedd’s feats of bravery, but Branda didn’t listen. She
    dweled on thoughts of Blaise.
    As the feasters disbanded, she rose and bid the King and
    Queen, “Good eve, until the morrow.”
    Elisedd flashed an uncharacteristic grin. “Yes, daffodils it is,
    on the morrow.”
    Branda couldn’t help but smile at the gruff but loveable King.
    If he were her father, he wouldn’t have forced her betrothal to a
    man like Cuthred. The Cymry didn’t do such.
    She strode beneath the glowing opal moon, slowly making her
    way back to the grianan. A rapt, inner joy overtook her as she
    gazed out the open row of windows, at the luminescent moon. It
    hung so close to the mountaintop. She spread out on the bed
    linens and wrapped a heavy, brocaded coverlet around her. As
    she shut her eyes, her muscles sunk into the rush-filed palet. The sound of her slow, deep breathing luled her to sleep.

    * * * *
She woke with a start, stil caught in the daze of her dream.
    The strangest dream. She shut her eyes and returned to the
    image of herself with Blaise, who faced Cuthred armored in
    chainmail. As Cuthred belowed at her, his face turned red and
    round. His cheeks grew puffy and smoke blew forth from his
    large nose. A peal of laughter escaped her lips.
    Branda puled the betrothal ring off her finger and flung it at
    him. She used so much strength that she stepped back and took
    a deep breath. The ring hit Cuthred’s forehead hard and he
    colapsed with a loud thud. His legs wiggled clumsily in the air as he pushed back with his arms in an effort to rise. When he
    managed to stand, Blaise rushed him, holding a giant wooden
    managed to stand, Blaise rushed him, holding a giant wooden
    spoon as a weapon. He whacked Cuthred back to the ground
    then straddled the huge spoon. Branda climbed on behind and
    wrapped her arms around Blaise’s broad back. The heat of his
    body filed her and al her tension melted away. She was
    weightless, free, like ethereal mist.
    “My hero,” she softly sighed in his ear.
    The loving spoon flew in the air, circled the mountain seven
    times and landed on top of the stone gateway of Dinas Bran.
    Blaise helped her off the spoon. His breath blew hot against her
    cheeks as he leaned his head closer, then his lips found hers. Hot shivers raced through her as his wet, warm mouth covered hers
    in a slow, thoughtful kiss. Then she woke up.
    She purred as she stretched out across the bed as if Blaise
    were realy there and her arms were wrapped around him. The
    sensation of floating high above the bed, weightless in the air,
    engulfed her until she opened her eyes. It was a dream. Blaise
    wasn’t there. A tinge of disappointment lodged in the pit of her
    bely. He hadn’t kissed her. She hadn’t ridden off with him.
    Cupping her forehead, she chided herself, “Sily notions. It’s
    al they are,”
    She had something to do this morn? Something with the King?
    Daffodils! She needed to hasten. Branda jumped up from the
    bed and dressed in a light-blue Celtic tunic-dress, then plaited
    her hair into a singular long, thick braid.
    She slipped a pair of soft pig-hide shoes on her feet and
    rushed to the great hal. Striding to the King as he broke his fast on a bowl of barley meal, she stood in his sight, waiting for him
    to acknowledge her and give her leave to join him.
    He nodded, and she sat at his side.
    “Good morn, my King. Am I late?”
    With his mouth ful, he