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“Well, the king believes he has.” Galahad looked down at the ground rather than at me.
“I see.” I tried to smile. “Well, you two should go on ahead. I wasn’t really planning on joining you at the tavern anyhow.”
It was true. A tavern was one of the last places I enjoyed being. Give me a quiet library or bookshop any day instead. Or even a nice sweet-smelling herb garden. Or a sweaty sparring ring, for that matter.
I had just pulled up the hood of my tunic and started towards the castle when I heard footsteps behind me.
“You’re going to the hall?” Galahad’s voice was low.
I nodded. I might not be able to do anything. Who knew, perhaps there was nothing to worry about in the first place. Small hope.
“Merlin is already there,” Galahad reminded me.
I nodded again.
We made our way across the grounds and entered the castle, stepping into the Great Hall. A grand and ancient space, built by my ancestors, the high vaulted ceiling was supported by massive stone columns, each one carved with scenes from Pendrath’s history. The walls were covered with vibrantly-colored tapestries that told the stories of glorious battles and conquests.
Of course, the history that was shown had been carefully selected. You could tell a great deal by what a monarchy chose to remember about its own history–and even more by what it chose to forget.
My brother’s throne–the king’s throne–sat on a raised dais on the far side of the room. Hewn from dark wood and embellished with gold leaf, it bore an exquisitely carved pattern of thorns and roses. Two smaller thrones were placed on either side of the main one, reserved for the other members of the royal family and the high priestess.
Our family’s royal coat of arms hung proudly above the dais–a circular shield with a gold dragon in the center, surrounded by a ring of red roses. The border of the shield was decorated with thorns, and a golden crown sat on top of it.
The sickening sweet perfume of roses was inescapable. It hung in the air like a cloud. The floor of the Great Hall was made of polished stone and was strewn with wild roses and rushes, woven into complex knots. Vases filled with roses lined the nooks along the walls. Large torches lined the walls of the vast room, casting their light over the faces of the courtiers and nobles who had assembled.
Even in the clothing and accessories worn by those in attendance, the Rose Court motif was all-pervasive. The nobles of Camelot who mingled in the hall were sumptuously dressed in rich velvets and silks. The women wore long, flowing gowns, adorned with roses embroidered into the thin silk fabrics or added as embellishments to the borders of sleeves or skirts. Some of them wore elaborate rose headdresses, while others carried small rose posies in their hands.
Although there were some knights who preferred to wear armor, even in the Great Hall, most of the men were in more formal clothing–doublets and breeches made of opulent materials. Their clothing was similarly adorned with roses, with many displaying embroidered or beaded rose designs on their cuffs or collars. I saw one man with a rose-shaped earring made of pink pearls in one ear.
As we took our place amongst the throng, I could hear the murmur of voices. The air was charged with a sense of anxious anticipation.
I could easily imagine what was being whispered. “What will the king do today? And “Who will he do it to?”
Many of the noble families had their eldest sons around them. I noticed a decided lack of daughters. Since Arthur had taken the throne, families brought their unmarried daughters to court at their own risk.
No one had noticed me and that’s how I wanted it to stay. I sidled over to a large column and stood behind it. Galahad followed without question.
I looked up at the dais and my eyes widened. My youngest brother, Kaye, had just sat down in one of the thrones. His small, slender frame was unsuited to the large chair. He shifted restlessly, his light-brown hair falling messily around his face as if it had not been brushed in days. He was smiling a little, but I could tell he was nervous about being on display.
I wondered why Arthur had summoned him to sit on the dais and curled my hands into fists. I had a bad feeling about this.
I looked to the other side of the dais where the high priestess was taking her seat.
Merlin, High Priestess of the Temple of the Three Sisters, Keeper of the Sacred Flame, Oracle of the Secret Mysteries, and Guardian of the Celestial Sanctum, was a handsome woman of middle-years whose face radiated with sharp wit and insight. Her hair was a silky cascade of ebony and silver strands, woven into a serpentine braid that knotted around her head. Dressed in flowing robes of the purest white, trimmed with gold and silver, the material draped elegantly around her graceful frame.
Unlike Kaye, Merlin sat straight and proud on the throne, her arms crossed before her, the sleeves of her gown long and flared, hanging to either side like the wings of a swan.
Her face was striking, with high cheekbones and soul-searching eyes. Her lips were full and set in a firm, determined line that lent her an air of command. Everything about the priestess conveyed a force to be reckoned with.
I took another step back behind the pillar. I doubted Arthur would notice me there, but Merlin was another story. She was decidedly astute.
In the center, on the Rose Throne, sat my brother Arthur. His brown hair was styled in the latest court fashion, and capped with a golden crown that glittered in the light. He was richly dressed as always, in dark red and gold silks and velvets, his doublet and hose embroidered with gold thread, and his cloak lined with ermine fur.
Arthur’s eyes were sharp and piercing as he looked out at his court, his lips pursed in a slight sneer. He leaned his head on one hand, looking petulant and bored.
My heartbeat slowed with relief. Bored was good. Surely Arthur would have been showing more interest in the proceedings if something significant was about to take place.
The king waved a hand. Instantly the hall became silent.
