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“We’ll see another day,” Lancelet countered, grabbing my arm. “We’re through with training for this afternoon. Time for an evening of leisure.” She lowered her voice. “Get me out of here before Dame Halyna sees us or she’ll have me scrubbing armor and helping the youngest squires with their footwork for the rest of the evening.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t want that, now would we? Not when cold brew and beauteous...” I paused. “What was her name?”
“Blanchefleur,” she hissed.
I snickered. “Blanchefleur?” It was a very old-fashioned name.
“Well, if you two ladies are through with me, I believe I’ll go and see what Sir Lucan is up to,” Sir Ector said wryly, thankfully disinterested in whatever we were whispering so subtly to one another.
“Good day, Sir Ector,” we called as he marched away.
“He really is the best teacher,” Lancelet remarked as we strolled out of the courtyard and back through the inner bailey towards the castle. “I’m lucky you thought to ask him to help you. Dame Halyna says I’m improving greatly. And you know how rarely she gives compliments.”
“Perhaps you’ll be knighted soon?” I suggested.
“I doubt it. I have a few years yet to go.”
There was a hooting sound and a young man flew towards us. A very different sort from the brick wall of muscle we’d just encountered.
“Galahad,” I exclaimed happily.
Galahad Prennell was Sir Ector’s son, but he was his father’s opposite in many ways.
He was dressed very differently than we were in our leather jerkins and snug-fitting breeches. An acolyte in the temple, Galahad was dressed appropriately in a white linen robe which draped down to his ankles. Sandaled feet peeked out from beneath the hem, coated with dust. Around his waist, he wore a sash of rich burgundy, its ends trailing down to brush against his knees. On his head rested a simple band of linen, holding back his unruly curly brown hair from his face, and around his neck hung a small talisman–a small sun, symbol of his faith and devotion to the Three.
Despite the solemnity of his dress, he exuded an infectiously cheerful demeanor. His bright eyes sparkled with warmth and humor, and his smile was so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes.
“Come to the tavern with us, Galahad?” Lancelet asked with false innocence. “We’re going to find Morgan a man.”
I went to elbow her but she jumped away laughing.
“The tavern? I would tag along, but I’ve come with Merlin.” Galahad met my eye and his smile wavered. “She’s back inside the Great Hall with the king. Your brother... He’s holding court.”
“Holding court? Did he ask for me?” I was surprised. This was not a day my brother usually held court. Ordinarily such proceedings were scheduled well in advance. My brother would sit in the Great Hall, surrounded by his courtiers, advisers, and the nobility, and receive petitions and gifts, make proclamations, and even–albeit very rarely–listen to the grievances of his subjects.
He usually proclaimed court days dull in the extreme.
“No, in fact...” Galahad paused. “I am not sure I would go in if I were you.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not go into the Great Hall? Why not?”
“They’re dealing with a matter. Well, your brother is. Thekingis,” he corrected himself. “I think it may become unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant?”
“There is a boy. A part-fae boy...” He trailed off.
I understood. My brother usually managed to hide it well from the people, but he loathed the fae.
Of course, there were no real fae anymore. Only the remnants of fae bloodlines that popped up in humans now and then.
Like in my mother. Or me.
There were a few older nobles still in the court who still claimed my mother had been a full-blooded fae. And yet I knew that for the impossibility it was. Wherever my mother had come from, her family line would have been as diluted as any other.
Besides, she had never shown any sign of fae features. She was unusually lovely, yes. But all-too fragile. All-too human. I had only to check my memories for brutal evidence of that.
I swallowed. “I see. Has he...done something wrong?”
