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I finished off my ensemble with a pair of earrings. Once upon a time, my mother had been given them by my father. I still could remember seeing her wearing them, carefully threading the delicate hooks through her ears as she prepared for a ball. In those brief years when she still attended balls alongside my father.
The earrings were carved red roses, the petals made from rubies, with long winding silver stems. The rubies were of an extraordinary quality, shimmering in the light as if they were real.
There was a knock at the door to my room and for a moment my heart skipped a beat. There was no furniture barricading it tonight. All day servants had been coming and going, carrying things I would need for the ball and for the journey, so it had seemed pointless to be moving heavy furniture back and forth.
The lock was not turning. I heard a dull thump as if someone was pushing on the door.
“Morgan, are you there?” Lancelet sounded impatient.
“Just a moment.” I unlocked the door and pulled it wide. “Come in. I was just about to go down.”
But Lancelet remained in the doorway.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong room. These are the princess’s quarters, are they not? Is that you, Morgan Pendragon, wearer of breeches and leather armor?”
I snorted, but was blushing. “I wear other things.” I looked at her more closely. “The same might be said of you,” I pointed out.
Lancelet glanced down at herself.
She was wearing a pair of fitted leather trousers in a shockingly bright shade of red, paired with a crisp white linen shirt that tucked in at her trim waist. Overtop, she wore a fitted waistcoat of black velvet, cut close to her body, accentuating her slender frame. A jacket of gold and silver brocade hung over her shoulders. There was a slim dagger strapped to her thigh and sheathed in an ornate leather scabbard. Bold but practical. Her hair looked perfectly, intentionally messy, with blonde locks falling haphazardly across her forehead. I spotted dark kohl around her eyes and there was a splash of red on her wide mouth.
She looked rakish, glamorous, and completely and utterly dashing.
“The red is too much, isn’t it?”
“Not too much. You look splendid,” I said honestly.
She stepped into the room and came to stand next to me in the mirror, then gave a long, low whistle, and grinned.
“Shall I escort you to the Great Hall, Princess?”
I slipped my arm through hers and grinned back at her reflection. “If you please, brave knight.”
We left the room together.
The sun had set onthe castle walls. The gala had begun over an hour ago. Fortunately for me, Arthur had not demanded I be there to help open the celebrations.
As I looked across the room, he and Lord Agravaine were standing with a group of nobles from the visiting delegation from Lyonesse, chatting and talking. Arthur looked handsome and regal. He was even smiling at one of the women in the party in a way that made him look almost content. I felt a pang as for a moment, I imagined him as he might have been.
To my relief, there was no sign of Florian.
Good. I could do without seeing him again before I left.
Or ever again.
Ever since the night he had come into my room, I had only seen him in the dining hall briefly.
Still, I wasn’t stupid enough to think he’d actually had a change of heart and decided to leave me alone. I suspected he had come to my room at least once, possibly more, tried the door and when he’d found it barricaded, had stormed off.
Not given up, however. No, he was probably off hatching some new diabolical plan.
But that was the one bright point about being sent away from Camelot. I would be leaving Florian far, far behind.
Perhaps when I returned, Lord Agravaine would even have married Florian off to some ambitious noble daughter. One could hope.
I glanced around the room. Guests from all over the kingdom had been invited to pay their tribute at the Rose Court tonight in honor of the spring festival. Everyone was dressed sumptuously, in rich fabrics adorned with precious gems and elaborate embroidery.
