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

waved his large fingers. “Princess
    Branda, have some porridge,” he mumbled.
    “Is there honey in the porridge?”
    He stared at her then asked, “Should there be?”
    “No, too much honey can blemish the skin.”
    “I know not what you speak of, but there’s no honey in my
    porridge.”
    An urgent feeling came over Branda. She leaned closer to the
    King. “Hasten, we need to pick daffodils.” She had to get out of
    the smoky hal and into the fresh air.
    the smoky hal and into the fresh air.
    He stood. “Come, Princess, I wil show you where the
    flowers grow.”
    Branda hiked up the ful skirt of her blue dress as she folowed
    Elisedd outside. They passed the stables, the great wel and the
    huge stone gateway and headed down the steep mountain path
    to the daffodil field. The breeze carried the tantalizing aroma of wild flowers and knee-high grass.
    “I don’t recal the path being this steep. Has it been that long
    since I went to these fields?” the King mumbled aloud.
    She was relieved by his question. While the Welsh were sure-
    footed, she had to take great care in the placement of her feet or she would rol down the mountain. “You should pick daffodils
    now and then. A man of your standing deserves some serenity.”
    “It’s true. I devote myself to the land and my people; I have
    no time for daffodils.”
    “You must make the time, my King.”
    He grunted in retort, showing how foolish he thought daffodils
    were though his actions indicated otherwise.
    Branda spotted the wispy yelow flowers and picked up her
    pace. Elisedd strode through the high grass, peering at golden
    blossoms waving in the gentle breeze.
    She took a long whiff of the sweet, fresh scent and plucked a
    daffodil, twisting its stem into her plaited hair.
    “My Dame used to say, ‘you must sidestep through flowers to
    not bother the bees and butterflies that feed’.”
    “That sounds like something the Cymry might say. Tel me,
    girl, was your mother Welsh?”
    “No, she was Saxon, but I truly do not remember her saying
    that. She did not tel me. My wet nurse, whom I looked upon
    like a mother, often said those words. My Dame died in
    childbirth delivering me.”
    He came to a standstil. His eyes looked sad, large and paler
    than usual. “Blaise’s mam died in child-bed, birthing him.”
    “But you have Lady Carthann.”
    “Yes, she is a good woman.” He sniffed the flowers. “Lovely
    she is.”
    “My sire never remarried. He is a hard man, mayhap too hard
    for marriage.”
    “Yes, men like your sire and me, we are warrior kings. We
    “Yes, men like your sire and me, we are warrior kings. We
    have no time for pretty words and daffodils and must look after
    our land and our people.”
    As the stern-faced King spoke those words, he twirled a
    daffodil in hand. Branda covered her trembling lips to keep from
    laughing. She gathered a bouquet of the yelow flowers and
    handed them to the King.
    “Don’t tel Carthann you picked these flowers,” Elisedd said.
    “No.” She leaned in close to him. “Are you going to give her
    the daffodils?”
    “Yes. Let her think I picked them, for it was my intent. It’s
    why I offered to bring you here. I remember a time when I
    picked daffodils for her. The summer scents and a pretty maid
    meant much to me. You make me feel young again, girl.”
    “It is my honor, my King.” Branda was pleased with his warm
    smile. “Wait. I have to get my daffodils.” She gathered the
    golden flowers then lifted the corners of her skirt and loaded it
    ful of the blossoms. With careful placement of her feet, she
    folowed the King’s sure steps up the mountain trail so not a
    single flower fel.
    They entered the ancient gates and she pointed to the wel.
    “Oh, we need put them in water.”
    Elisedd nodded and dropped his yelow flowers into her skirt
    along with the others. “Sit yourself down, girl. I wil fetch the
    pitchers.” He headed toward the hal.
    She shook her skirt, causing a shower of