Free The Chosen Queen by Joanna Courtney Page B

calm that unnerved Edyth.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Did you love Huw?’
    ‘Love?!’
    ‘It is not such a stupid idea. My parents love each other, I believe. My grandparents certainly do.’
    ‘Then your grandparents are lucky, child, or lying. I did not have the luxury of loving Huw but he was my husband and I had a respected place in his court. I was more than just a spoil of
war as I am here.’
    ‘Has King Griffin not been . . . kind to you?’
    ‘Kind?’ Gwyneth spat into the rushes. ‘Kindness is not a virtue we prize in Wales, Edyth. Griffin is strong and powerful and lusty.’
    ‘Lusty?’
    ‘Oh yes. That man gave me more fun between the sheets than Huw ever did.’
    ‘Gave?’
    ‘
Gives.
I may be older than you and less . . .’ her eyes wandered out of the great doors to the wanton sunset beyond, ‘ . . . less rosy, but Griffin wants me
still.’
    ‘I doubt it not, my lady. I am but fourteen – a child yet.’
    Gwyneth grasped at her arm.
    ‘Then act like one or you will regret it. Men are easy to control, Lady Edyth, as long as you do not offer false promises. I shall show you, shall I?’
    ‘Show me . . . ?’ Edyth began but now the king was stepping into the hall and Gwyneth was whipping past to greet him.
    ‘My lord.’
    He bowed tightly.
    ‘Lady Gwyneth.’
    ‘You look well tonight, Sire, lusty.’
    She ran a slow finger down his tunic, curling up to him and blocking Edyth out.
    ‘As I recall, my lady,’ he responded instantly, ‘you like me best that way.’
    ‘Ripe for battle – yes.’
    Her hand crept lower and Edyth turned away. How could Gwyneth behave like this in front of everyone?
    ‘Then make sure you eat well,’ Griffin laughed, loud enough for all who chose to hear, ‘for you will need all your energy tonight. Shall we?’
    He offered her his arm and Gwyneth took it and sailed past Edyth with a mocking wink. All night she monopolised the king, engaging him with intimate conversation in sing-song Welsh and touching
him with her clearly expert hands. By the time the minstrels were called, Griffin had pulled her onto his lap and was plainly in no mood for the dance floor. Indeed, barely was the first jig over
before he leaped to his feet and, announcing to the entire hall that he had ‘a battle to fight with this lady’, departed the company, Gwyneth in triumphant tow.
    Edyth watched them go to raucous cheers and wondered what she was meant to feel. Jealousy – is that what Lady Gwyneth had intended? Because it wasn’t that. Pity came closer, with
scorn hot on its heels. To be treated like that in front of everyone was shaming. There was no way any man would do that to her, be he the king of all Christendom. And yet, much of the joy had gone
out of the evening and, with the habitual Welsh chill creeping back into the night air, people soon peeled off to their beds.
    Edyth was glad to go and burrowed down into the welcome warmth of her covers. Listening to the soft snuffles of her younger brothers either side, she tried to be grateful that King Griffin was
not subjecting her to his lust. Yet her mind refused to shut down and kept snaking off to the bed, somewhere in this isolated palace, where, right at this moment, he was doing ‘battle’
with Lady Gwyneth. If his dancing was anything to go by it would be wild and rough and that thought sparked memories of Earl Torr in the woods. Edyth pulled her pillow over her head, trying to
muffle out her damned curiosity but she knew, already, that she would sleep little tonight.
    She woke from an uneasy slumber next morning to find the bedchamber empty of all but Becca, sewing in the corner. Sunlight was slanting in through the cracks in the wooden
window shutters and noises from beyond suggested that the men were already at their training. She leaped up and ran to look out onto the central courtyard below. The bedchamber she shared with
Edwin and Morcar was on the second floor above the commander’s rooms and