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The nobles from Lyonesse fairly glowed in their finery. Their traditional clothes were brighter than those of Pendrath, with lighter fabrics suited to the warmer southern climate. The women wore flowing gowns of chiffon and soft muslin in pastel shades of green, pink, and blue, while the men wore short-sleeved tunics and trousers made of fine linen and cotton. Standing together, they looked like a beautiful rainbow and I could not take my eyes off them. The women's gowns were scanty, in some cases nearly transparent. The gown I wore seemed downright modest by comparison with its high neckline and dark colors.
While red was Pendragon's traditional shade, tonight the Great Hall was bedecked in an abundance of colorful roses, from soft pinks to white to yellows. The roses came from all over Pendrath, though many were grown in the castle hothouses by talented gardeners. The fragrant flowers colored the walls and hung from the ceilings in elaborate garlands alongside colorful silk streamers. Banners bearing the emblem of a rose entwined with an image of Marzanna's scythe hung along the stone walls, replacing the customary tapestries.
Music filled the air, played by a band of musicians on a stage to one side of the room. A lively folk melody was currently being played on lutes, flutes, drums, and a harp. No one was dancing yet, but that was sure to change as the night went on.
At the top of the room near the royal dais, tables had been set up for the guests, decorated with centerpieces of roses and other seasonal flowers. Food and drink lay on the tables atop gleaming silver platters–roasted meats, fresh fruits, and sweet desserts.
As Lancelet and I stood near the wall, watching, a servant passed by with a tray of small cups and offered them to us. They contained a specially brewed ale made for Marzanna’s day, he told us. The scent was warm and spicy. I swallowed, tasting the rich flavor, and wondered what I'd be drinking by this time the next evening.
“I can’t believe this is really your last night,” Lancelet muttered, echoing my thoughts. “No, what I can’t believe is that your bloody brother won’t even let me accompany you.”
“Hush,” I said swiftly. I glanced about but no one was near. “You cannot talk like that, Lancelet. Not around anyone but me. When I’m gone, promise me you’ll be more careful.” I looked at her, in her vibrant attire, and bit my lip. I had not told her of Arthur’s thinly-veiled warning. I wondered if I should before I left.
But what could she do about it? Besides something risky and dangerous that might get her into greater trouble with Arthur. And I would not be there to protect her and help her get out again.
“Do you even know who will be attending you? Will there be a single woman in your party?” Lancelet demanded.
I shook my head. “No idea. A group of guards and soldiers. That’s all I know. I wouldn’t put it past Arthur to ‘forget’ to include a single woman.”
“A huge group of fighting men and you. Will you evenknowa single one?” Lancelet scowled. “Sir Ector and Dame Halyna were not invited to go. Nor were they told anything about your trip beforehand.”
“I know,” I said, feeling a little desolate. I wished Sir Ector was coming with me. Having him there would be a huge comfort. With him at my side, perhaps the mission would not be completely doomed to failure. “But I had no say in the matter, as you are well aware.”
Lancelet was quiet. “You have not even told us exactly where you are going or what you are doing. Why must you go? Off on your own with a group of soldiers while Arthur and Kaye go elsewhere. It seems so strange, Morgan.”
“It does. I know. But this is how it must be. Arthur has good reasons for arranging things this way.” I tried to speak with conviction but Lancelet shot me a sour look that said she was not fooled.
“It will be an adventure at least,” I added lamely. That much was sure to be true. “I’ll be leaving Camelot. Seeing the country.”
“Whichcountry?” Lancelet demanded shrewdly.
I colored. “I shouldn’t answer that.”
“I thought so.” She frowned.
“It’s our last night together,” I reminded her, squeezing her arm gently. “Have fun with me.”
She nodded. “I know. I’ll try.” Her eyes lit up. “Will you dance with me?”
I groaned. “There are so many people.”
Lancelet was a dancer. I loved to dance. But not like this. Not in such a huge space surrounded by onlookers. Nobles and courtiers and visiting guests who would all be observing me, talking about me, commenting on my appearance, my grace–or lack thereof. That was not my idea of fun.
Though, of course, they were already staring at us, taking in my appearance. I resisted raising a hand to smooth back my gray strands.
I was just wondering what the guests from Lyonesse would make of Lancelet when I caught sight of one of the women in the delegation staring at my friend with open appreciation.
“Their gowns truly leave nothing to the imagination,” Lancelet murmured approvingly, looking right back at the woman. “By the Three, I can see absolutely everything.” She grinned lecherously.
“Lancelet!” I elbowed her, a little scandalized.
“You should ask them to make you a dress like that, Morgan. Not that you’d be daring enough to wear it.” She smirked, elbowing me back until I squeaked.
I stared at the woman. Her gown was a pink chiffon and Lancelet was right. You could seeeverythingthrough it.
“Do you think her nipples are truly pink or is it just the fabric that makes them seem that color?” Lancelet mused.
“Why don’t you go and find out?” I jokingly suggested.
