Free The Queen's Pawn by Christy English

three, but I knew that he sang of love.
    When his song was done, Richard fell silent, and his hand drew out one last note on his lute. That note filled the hall, and hung there, mesmerizing all of us, so that we forgot to move.
    Then he bowed, his eyes seeking mine. I wiped my tears away with the kerchief Eleanor had given me, the soft linen cloth that bore her crest. Richard did not smile, for the moment between us was too solemn for that. Instead, he turned to the queen, and smiled on her.
    Eleanor led the applause. In spite of my tears, I had the sense enough to join it.
    “My son,” the queen said. “You surpass us all in honor.”
    Richard bowed once more before taking his place beside her. He did not look at me again.
    “You see, Alais, I do not lie. My son will turn your head, before you even know he’s done it.”
    Richard, who had stood before all the court and sung from his heart, blushed now to hear his mother speak of him to me.
    “He has already done so, Your Majesty”
    Eleanor turned from Richard, and looked at me. “So I see, little princess. So I see.”
     
     
    That night I dreamt of Richard’s song. His voice followed me into my dreams, so that even as I woke, the last note of his song was still with me. It made my sleep sweet, and my heart light, to know that such a man had been chosen for me by God.
    But when I looked to Marie Helene in the morning to bring my breakfast and to laugh with me over the cattiness of the queen’s ladies, especially Angeline, Marie Helene could not speak. Her throat had closed up overnight with a swift cold that she assured me with croaks would soon fade. I sent for teas to soothe her, but the water the servants brought was lukewarm, and the tea only some valerian root from the simples garden.
    Since my own gowns had not yet come, I drew on Eleanor’s beautiful emerald silk once more, and set out to find the simples garden myself. I knew enough of herb lore from my time in the nunnery to help my friend.
    For such a large castle, Winchester had very few servants. Or perhaps, more likely, they simply saw me coming and ducked out of my way. It took me almost an hour to find a door that led out into the sunshine of the morning.
    When I stepped outside, instead of the kitchen garden, I came upon roses in the center of a walled courtyard. It was a small garden, the same garden I could see from the window in my room. Though surrounded on all sides by stone and damp, there was enough sunlight for a few hours a day for the roses to flourish, red ones, and pink ones, and even some roses of white.
    I marveled at how such beauty could grow in the midst of such dark confinement.
    I stood among the flowers, breathing in the scent of their perfume. Most were open, though spring had not yet turned to summer. I lifted my face to the sky, to take in the rays of sun that came down over the high walls.
    Richard found me there, when my thoughts were turned on nothing but the way the warm sunlight felt on my face.
    “Good day,” he said.
    Richard stood just a few feet away from me. Either he was very quiet when he moved, or my thoughts had been far away, for I never heard him until he spoke.
    “God be with you,” I said. The warmth of my dreams came upon me then, and the joy he had brought me with his music.
    His blue eyes met mine, and it seemed he, too, was remembering his song. I savored Richard’s tall, proud grace, the way his stance spoke of who he was and what he was born to. It was a pity that he was a younger son, and would never be king.
    “Where is your waiting woman?” he asked.
    I thought of Marie Helene, alone in my bed. I realized then that I should have called another of the queen’s women to walk with me. A princess could not walk alone unencumbered.
    “She is in bed,” I said. “Her throat is sore.”
    Richard did not chide me for my folly in walking alone, though he had the most to lose if I was accosted. He nodded and said nothing.
    The warmth between us was