Free Camelot's Blood by Sarah Zettel

not even rely on his uncle to understand. “I do my duty by the king and my own land. She is of worthy rank and good understanding.”
    Kai quirked up one eyebrow. “And nothing else?”
    He looked across to Laurel again. Another gaggle of bright ladies surged up to her. She met this latest assault as she had met every other event of the day; with dignified grace and composed courtesy. If she felt at all fatigued, it did not show. She was tall, his wife, and the delicacy implied by her pale skin seemed deceptive. There was strength in her. He was sure of it. But what else was there?
    â€œI don’t know,” Agravain said, half in answer to Kai’s question, but half to his own.
    Kai clapped him on the shoulder. “That, nephew is a good sign. I hold out hope for you.”
    If Sir Kai was not in the mood to extend mercy, neither was Agravain. “I will accept your guidance in all things, uncle, but not in the matter of women,” he said flatly.
    An abrupt and unexpected silence fell at that. “Perhaps you are right, Agravain,” said Kai. “Very well. I leave you to your reflections.” Bowing more in mockery than in courtesy, Kai left him there, returning, Agravain presumed, to his duties. The whole hall needed to be served, and would for many hours yet.
    Alone, Agravain felt exposed. He was watched, but most especially by Lady Laurel. What should he do? It was growing late. Voices were being raised to compete with the musicians, showing that the lavish drink was beginning to have effect, but also that more than he were thinking on what was to come next. What did Laurel think? How was he to know? She made such a mask of propriety for her finely sculpted face, he could read nothing in her.
    Was there any other lady who had eyes of such a colour? Almost as pale as the veil laid over her white-gold hair.
    â€œWhat, the bridegroom, all alone?” said someone mildly.
    He’d been caught again, staring. Angry with himself, Agravain turned, a sharp retort ready on his tongue, and found Gawain standing beside him.
    â€œSuch feasts are far more to your liking than mine,” muttered Agravain, taking a swallow of his wine. He did not like the way Gawain looked at him. There were few moments when he cared for his older brother’s scrutiny, and this moment was most certainly not one of them.
    â€œIs there any matter you would speak about, Agravain?”
    So, there it is
. Agravain’s jaw clenched. “I told Uncle Kai that I would not hear his guidance in the matter of women and he sends you to me. I must remember to thank him for it.”
    â€œGod’s breath, Agravain, that is cold even for you.” Agravain let it be. Perhaps the chiding was merited. It bothered him that he was not sure.
    â€œWhat is it of the lady that worries you so?” asked Gawain quietly.
    Agravain felt his spine stiffen and his free hand clenched reflexively. “Gawain,” he muttered. “I swear upon the Cross, if you’ve come to make mockery, I will forget you are my brother and your blood will run on these stones.”
    â€œNay, brother, never, and not at such a time.” Gawain’s voice was mild, as was his expression. Any who came near them would think they were discussing nothing of import. “I know well your worth.” The corner of Gawain’s mouth turned up in a small smile. “Whatever you may believe of me, I have never once forgotten the times you have been right and I have been so sorely wrong.”
    Agravain met his brother’s eyes and saw there none of Gawain’s pride, and very little of his hero’s certainty. For once, there was only his brother there.
    Old habit warned Agravain to keep his own counsel. Old anger all but sealed that, but Agravain mustered his strength. Setting aside the heavy weights of the past and the future, he made himself speak.
    â€œI … I am ill-acquainted with the ways of a