Free Queen's Heart: An Arthurian Paranormal Romance (Arthurian Hearts Book 2) by Phoenix Sullivan Page B

mother. “Entreat the queen to come and witness a wondrous sight.”
    When Mother arrived, weary and beat down, but still willing to indulge her daughter her whim and whimsy, I recognized how much love she bore me. My stomach knotted with the fear of leaving the security of love that showered me here each day. What other things that I had taken for easy granted was I about to lose? Impulsively I hugged my mother, for a moment clinging desperately to her as though I were six again and she the one who could shelter me from all wrongs.
    With the greatest reluctance I let her go.
    “I only have a few moments,” she said. “You may not have noticed but we have guests.”
    No wonder she looked so haggard, directing the House and entertaining the swarm of nobles who camped outside our doors. Guilt twinged me. Normally I would have helped not just with the preparations but with the greetings and other niceties.
    “You’ll be glad I stole you away,” I promised. I nodded toward her lady-in-waiting lurking patiently in the lengthening shadows. “Dismiss you woman. Have her make excuses if anyone comes looking for your. This marvel is for us alone.” I squeezed her hand in anticipation.
    Some of my excitement must have conveyed itself to her. She seemed to rejuvenate, her slumped shoulders straightening, her eyes brightening.
    Already Drustan was putting away his harp and strapping on his scabbard. More for ceremony, not that I truly thought we’d be in danger walking the short way from courtyard to glen. These were knights and nobles with a few trusted servants camping on our doorstep, after all, not a field of brigands and beggars to be traversed.
    We picked our way between a handful of pavilions—the Orkney contingent I saw by the coats of arms brandished on the shields leaning by the tents and the banners flying on their planted staffs. I recognized none of the score or so men we briefly encountered who merely bowed to the queen and went about their business, clearly unimpressed by their hostess or her guard who kept his head low and his face mostly hidden. Curious behavior to be sure, as he appeared neither shy nor frightened. Wary perhaps. As someone would be who didn’t wish to be discovered.
    “King Lot’s court?” I asked Mother.
    “Lot is probably drinking with your father. I’m not sure I would recognize all his sons. They’ll be at the feast tonight, of course… Ah, there.” She pointed discreetly toward a well-muscled bearded young man with honey-dark hair in heated conversation with an older, ginger-haired man. “That’s Gawain, the eldest. Where he goes, his brothers won’t be found far behind.”
    I nodded. The Orkney brothers were developing a reputation at the tournaments. Not just for feats of arms but for stirring old troubles and instigating fights off field that had nothing to do with honor.
    Drustan cast a single surreptitious glance Gawain’s way as if to verify his identity himself before hastily averting his face. To the west, the sun had already dipped below the hills taking the shadows with it.
    We hurried on.
    Even this late in the season the little glen remained carpeted in shamrocks with scores too of dainty bluebells—fairy bells some called them—nodding over them. It spoke to the abundance of this spring that the deer and rabbits had yet to ravage this little half-acre haven nestled in the hollow of the hills. Unwilling to trample the delicate flowers, we waited at the edge of the clearing as dusk closed in.
    Brangien saw it first. She gasped and pointed, and when I followed her stare, there it stood, just as Drustan had described it. At first glance, from a distance, it could look an ordinary dog. Even Mother peered past it, asking, “What?”
    I never, of course, expected Drustan or Des to capture it. Or rather, I expected them to maybe tempt in a hungry stray with a bit of bone. We’d have a laugh and gift it to the huntmaster. This moment, this vision, though, would be