Page 134 of The Sun King's Noon

“King?” Aralynn advanced, her voice rising to a pitch that startled the sparrows from the oak’s branches. “KING?”

The servants disappeared from the balconies. Elara cackled from the bench.

“Did I hear that word leave your mouth, husband? Did you just stand here in our garden, before our children, and brandish your crown at me as if it were a writ of permission?”

Haldric paled. “I—my queen, I merely?—”

“Selwyn, did my husband attempt to invoke his sovereignty upon me?”

“The boor certainly did, old friend.” Selwyn rounded on Dain. “And note how mum my own husband has gone. Sixty-three years of age. His left knee creaks like an old gate every time he rises from a chair. Last winter, I had to poultice his shoulder a fortnight because he slept wrong, and now he means to brawl?”

“It would have been a friendly brawl, woman?—”

“Oh, friendly!” Selwyn sneered. “As though a friendly brawl has ever, in the entire history of this castle, resulted in anything but a broken rib and a visit to my healing wing.”

“Precisely,” Aralynn said, hugging the healer’s arm. “Selwyn, you ought not lift a finger for either of them. They may well hobble and have their joints turn purple. In fact—” she pointed at Haldric—“as my husband rejoices in inflicting pain on himself, I shall instruct every pillow be removed from our chambers.”

“My queen.” Haldric tried a charming smile. “Truly. You are radiant when you scold.”

“Do not.”

“I am undone by your beauty?—”

“Do not, Haldric.”

“Yes, my love.” Haldric switched his smile to Selwyn. “And you, my friend, have never appeared more luminiferous.”

Selwyn cocked an unimpressed brow, and Dain muttered to Haldric, “Doesn’t work on her. I’ve tried.”

Briony was wheezing into Elara’s shoulder, and Corwin had slid off the bench from the force of his chortles. Richard found the corners of his mouth twitching. He peeked at Kaelen, and his stomach flipped to find the knight already looking at him.

Kaelen gave him a wink.

Richard’s pulse quickened, warmth rolling through his face. He stared at his slippers and drew in a steadying breath.

Tonight.

Tonight was the Summer Ball—a small thing with some nearby dukes and duchesses invited. There would be wine and dancing, and the whole court would glitter. Kaelen would no doubt look very handsome, and tonight, he would draw Kaelen aside and ask permission to court him. Properly. As Kaelen deserved.

Whatever answer came, he would receive it with grace. Though—Richard worried at his lower lip—if Kaelen refused him, he may find the nearest pond to drown himself in.

He lifted his eyes to steal another glance?—

and stiffened.

The archway leading to the kitchens had turned white. A flat, milky white akin to a portal to some distant place. The herb beds and corridor beyond it had vanished.

Richard blinked.

The archway was an archway again. Herb beds. Flagged path. The corridor that led to the kitchens.

A trick of the eye, perhaps.

But it left him disquieted the rest of the morn.

CHAPTER 49

Family breakfast was a delightful affair, brightened by Briony bemoaning Squire Godwyn not asking her to the ball—“I shall not eat. I shall starve, and then he will be sorry and weep at my pyre”. Haldric declared that any boy who wounded his daughter’s heart had no place drawing breath in his kingdom, while Aralynn told him plainly that if he so much as looked at the poor squire wrongly, she would make him sleep with the dogs.