Free Song of the Fairy Queen by Valerie Douglas Page B

shade of the avenue. A great broad-brimmed hat shadowed his face, but it couldn’t conceal his familiar, slightly portly, form. They all recognized him and smiled, even Kyri.
    He didn’t ride alone. Slightly behind him rode two others, both of them tall and gangly, their heads bare so their thin brown hair blew lightly in the wind. One was clearly the father, while the other was younger, his hair more reddish. He was clearly the son.
    Oryan and Morgan knew both of them.
    With a wave of his hand, Philip of Dorset gestured, smiling,
    “Look what I found along the road. I thought you might have need of him, Oryan.”
    “Geoffrey?” Oryan said incredulously, walking slowly down the broad wooden steps of Philip’s summerhouse.
    Lifting his head to reveal himself, Geoffrey smiled, his teeth very white in his dark, creased face. “I thought you could use a Steward, my Lord.”
    He slid off the old cob, found his legs, wobbly though they were after riding so long, and stepped forward to make his bow.
    Oryan, though, was already holding out his hand and Geoffrey met it heartily.
    Pleased with his surprise, Philip sat back to watch the reunion, giving his son Jordan a wink. The boy grinned, waving to those still on the veranda.
    “How?” Oryan asked.
    With a shrug, Geoffrey said, his eyes shadowed, “In all the confusion that night, when that brother of yours started bringing his people in, I got out. I took a chance you might be here. If you weren’t, I’d have kept looking, leaving word so you could find me if you had need. My Lord Philip, though, was kind enough to offer me his warrant of safety.”
    For some reason, Geoffrey’s simple devotion caught Oryan off guard.
    Geoffrey looked around, confused and concerned…
    He’d stayed hidden that night, watching the bodies being brought down, his heart aching, fearing to see those most important faces, but needing to know, to be sure.
    One was missing here that shouldn’t have been. He hadn’t seen them bring her down with the other dead.
    “Where is the Queen?” he asked, not wanting to know, but again needing to know. “Where is Gwenifer?”
    Oryan went still.
    All of them did, waiting… Watching the King.
    The smile disappeared from Philip’s face, he swallowed hard and closed his eyes before quickly dismounting.
    Something in Oryan cracked…gave way…
    The grief he’d held back so long welled up inside him.
    “She’s gone, Geoffrey,” he said softly, his voice choking.
    On a gasp, Geoffrey looked into Oryan’s eyes, saw the truth there as comprehension filled him and his own tears spilled over.
    “No, my Lord,” he whispered.
    Geoffrey couldn’t imagine it. A world without tall, practical Gwenifer in it ?
    She’d been a wonder to work with and for. So sweet, a little shy, sometimes wry. He wanted to weep. It had been such a joy to look on her and Oryan together, to see the love there as they looked at each other. He couldn’t imagine Oryan’s grief.
    “She’s gone.” Oryan finally said the words he hadn’t dared speak aloud until that moment.
    The reality of it finally struck him.
    He wasn’t going to turn someday and see her walk around the corner.
    His days had been so busy, so full of tension, constantly on the move. He’d fallen into bed each night exhausted, too weary to think, to miss her. Yet he’d found himself reaching for her in the mornings as he always had. He’d fended off the knowledge of her absence by focusing on the plans that had to be made, making lists, calling for servants or messengers.
    Oryan hadn’t thought it possible for her to be gone. Not his Gwenifer.
    She’d been so strong, so sure, so vital to him, so beautiful to his eyes.
    Some had named her plain but Oryan couldn’t see it, he never had.
    He’d loved her pale gray eyes, her determination and her wry spirit,. He remembered her so vividly. Especially the day she had delivered their son. Even now, through his tears, he remembered the day she’d given him