Free Quest - Book 2 of Queen's Honor - YA + Adult Fantasy Romance and Adventure by Mande Matthews Page B

other than Morgaine as I caught a glimpse of green flashing as the black
bird circled. Merlin glanced upwards, his face sagging into a scowl. The raven
sent him a present—droppings—which splattered on the bald spot on Merlin’s
head. Merlin swatted at the raven and wiped his head with the sleeve of his
robe. Morgaine glided to a pole and landed, watching like the rest of the
onlookers.
    Commotion broke out in the far corner of the arena. Dogs
yipped and howled, but the pack wore leashes, all tethered and under the
control of one young quester who came forward, leading the dogs in an orderly
fashion.
    A young man stood before Arthur. “My King,” he said,
sweeping down into a low bow, “after pursuing the pack into the woodlands and
across the meadows, I trapped the dogs and contained them before they could wreak
havoc on a nearby flock of sheep.”
    “And what is your name,” asked Arthur.
    “Pellinor, sir.”
    “A valiant deed, well done! You are the first to join my
knights!”
    The onlookers hooted, yelled and applauded until a second
man crossed the arena and my heart sunk.
    Gawain strutted across the field carrying the white hound
over his shoulder like a sack of chicken feed. He threw the beast onto the
ground where it lay, lifeless. Wetness burned the corners of my eyes, but I
held them in check. I was no longer a girl who would sob at injustice, but a
queen who would seek the opportunities to right any wrongs.
    “I have slain the hound!” Proclaimed Gawain. The audience shouted
their approval, and Arthur beamed at his young nephew.
    “Well done!” yelled Arthur. “You are the second knight to
join my ranks, Gawain!”
    Morgaine cawed approval from her fence post and ruffled her
wings.
    Merlin glanced up at me, and for a moment, I thought the
druid sent me a warning—as if my fate might follow that of the hound and hind
if I were not careful. I wondered for the first time if Morgaine’s assessment
of the old druid was correct, or if more layers needed to be peeled away to see
his truths.
    Then raucous laughter broke out, and I jerked my head toward
the commotion to see what caused the outbreak. The third quester pulled his
quarry into the arena. The hind.
    The peasant boy, Tor, had managed to harness the hind with a
horse’s halter and dragged the deer into the center of the field. The deer,
alive, well and unharmed, fought its captor with all its might; a tug-of-war
ensued between the two—Tor pulling forward, the hind dragging Tor backward.
Foot by foot, Tor won out and pulled the deer into the center of the arena.
    The crowd roared with laughter at the spectacle. Arthur
clapped his hands and yelled, “Why haven’t you slain the beast, young Tor?”
    “For the Lady’s sake, My Lord,” he replied. Tor tipped his
chin at me, and I smiled. The peasant boy had acted on my plea for the hind.
    Arthur laughed at the boy. “Kill it now, or I fear your
heart is too weak to perform a knight’s deadly duties.”
    “I will not,” said Tor, raising his chin in defiance of
Arthur’s command.
    “Then perhaps weaving would be a better occupation for your
sensitivities.”
    His knights laughed with him. The crowd joined in until
everyone howled.
    “I will not slay the hind,” said Tor, raising his voice over
the tumult, “because my Queen desires fair treatment of the creature.”
    “Fair treatment?” echoed Arthur. “For a beast?” His laughter
spilled over and, once again, everyone joined in at the boy’s expense.
    The normal rush of anger at the situation did not come.
Instead, my sight sharpened as if my entire field of vision cleared. Every
detail sprang to life—the tightness in Arthur’s jaw as he laughed, the way his
eyes switched side to side to gauge the crowd’s reaction, the expectant look in
the faces of the citizens as they watched Arthur, like dogs waiting for their
master’s next command. And I understood. Arthur sought to be seen as powerful.
Killing the hind showed his