Free The Chosen Queen by Joanna Courtney Page A

pillow down the length of her body and imagined how it would be if it was Griffin against her. Once or twice she had even kissed it, but so? It was to practise, that’s all; it didn’t
mean she was going to actually do anything, not with him. He was just so very easy to dream about with his strong arms and his piercing eyes and his lilting, knowing voice.
    ‘Safe,’ Svana had said in her letter, the same word her father had used, as if they were colluding in some dull set of rules. That didn’t surprise her from her father but
she’d thought Svana was more liberal. ‘
Love needs to be free
,’ she’d told her, had she not?
    ‘
This isn’t love
,’ a voice said in her head and she grimaced at the truth of it. Everyone in the rough Rhuddlan court said the king would never marry and besides, he
was talking of riding out to battle soon so that would be an end to any flirtation. Edyth’s body flickered in disappointment but she ignored it. Svana had said she could go and stay with her
once they were returned to England, so that was something to look forward to. She would reply as soon as she could but for now she had to dress for dinner.
    Placing the letter carefully into a leather pouch she tucked it under the bed and summoned her maid. Alfgar had been unable to bring a full staff into exile so Griffin had assigned a girl to
Edyth. Becca spoke only Welsh but Edyth was learning and she needed to practise, for tonight she planned to test her new language skills on Griffin.
    ‘
Ma’ fe’n anrhydedd i ddawnsio gyda chi
,’ she said over and over as Becca arranged her hair into honeyed braids – I am honoured to dance with you.
    He would like that she was sure and as soon as she was ready she made for the great hall, keen to find out. Barely had she entered, however, than someone tucked a hand under her elbow and she
found Lady Gwyneth at her side.
    ‘Lady Edyth, yes?’ she asked in slightly broken English.
    Edyth pushed her shoulders back and swallowed.
    ‘
Fi’n Edyth
,’ she responded carefully – I am Edyth.
    The woman raised an eyebrow.
    ‘You speak Welsh?’
    ‘I am learning.’
    ‘And why is that?’
    ‘It seemed polite to be able to address my kind host in his own tongue.’
    Gwyneth snorted.
    ‘It is not the only tongue he speaks,’ she said, curving her bony hips suggestively.
    ‘Indeed,’ Edyth agreed smoothly, ignoring the older woman’s insinuations, ‘his English is impeccable.’ Gwyneth clearly didn’t understand the last word and
Edyth felt suddenly mean. ‘You are very kind to let us stay here, my lady.’
    ‘Oh, it is none of my doing. I am little more than a guest myself.’
    ‘But you are the king’s . . .’
    ‘
Putain
? Whore?’
    ‘Consort.’
    ‘I prefer my own term, in either language.’ Gwyneth laughed bitterly. ‘Do not be fooled by the glaze of civilisation, my lady. This is not England. We do not pander to Roman
niceties here. If a man wants a woman and is strong enough to take her then he will.’
    Edyth looked nervously around the packed hall. Most of Griffin’s court were here, making free with the local honeyed ale, but the king had not yet arrived. It was a warm night at last and
the great doors stood open at either end to show the magnificent views. To the back, the far-off mountains looked, for once, more blue than black and at the front the iron sea had allowed the
sinking sun to coat its softly rippled surface with pinks and apricots. The court had picked up the softer mood and was whispering and giggling easily together. Edyth drew a deep breath and leaned
in towards Gwyneth.
    ‘You are not married to King Griffin?’
    ‘No. Clearly. I am not queen, am I?’ Gwyneth’s lip curled. ‘I was married to Lord Huw of Deheubarth, the territory I grew up in and where my family live still. Griffin
wanted Deheubarth for himself and, after several attempts, he killed my husband and took it – and me with it.’
    She spoke with an almost unearthly