A Crimson Frost Read Online Free Page A

ask?” her father inquired.
    “Father…I,” she stammered. “It is all quite a long and drawn-out tale, you understand.”
    “ What is a long and drawn-out tale?”
    Monet swallowed the thick discomfort in her throat.
    “I-I have asked Sir Broderick to carry my favour in the tournament, Father,” she confessed. “Please do not be angry. I—”
    Her father’s familiar laughter gave her a measure of comfort, his smile warming her heart.
    “Why should such a thing anger me, Monet?” he asked. “Sir Broderick is a noble and valiant man. His loyalty to me and his kingdom is unrivaled.”
    “Then you are not angry with me?” she asked. She had been so fearful—so worried her father may find fault with her favour being displayed in tournament, even by his first knight.
    “No, my dove,” he said. His smile broadened, a glint of amusement in his eye. “Still, I now have a question of my own.”
    “Anything, Father,” Monet said, relieved to be yet in his good graces.
    “There is conduct…events, if you will…about this tournament of King Ivan’s that is unusual. I would ask you now what you know of these differences.”
    Monet shrugged. “The Ceremony of Colors. I have never attended a tournament wherein such a ceremony is performed. And I must confess to being greatly unsettled at being part of it…of having to appear before so many spectators.”
    Again her father offered a chuckle. “Oh, I well believe that by the end of the tournament that appearance will be the least of your worries, my dove.”
    Monet felt her heart begin to hammer within her bosom. She was not at all certain if it hammered for the excitement of the sudden eruptive roar of the crowd as the knights began to enter the jousting arena or from the sense her father and Sir Broderick owned knowledge she did not.
    “What do you mean to say, Father?”
    Yet her father only laughed, his smile broadening as he nodded to the lead knight to ride past the stands.
    “Here rides our knight now, Monet,” King Dacian said, “the Crimson Knight of Karvana.”
    Monet looked to the direction her father nodded. The sight of the Crimson Knight caused her breath to catch for a moment.
    Astride a high-marching black charger robed in white, crimson, and black, the Crimson Knight entered the arena. His chain mail and armor shone bright, as did the armored chanfron of his charger—glinting in the morning sun as if each piece had been polished to its highest possible sheen.
    The Crimson Knight paused before the stands, where Monet and her Father sat with the other royals. He nodded, the piercing steel of his eyes barely visible through the slit in his helmet. He spurred his horse, and it reared, its white robes, adorned with Sir Broderick’s crimson shield and black dragon coat of arms, rippling in the breeze. The Crimson Knight raised his lance in respectful recognition of his king.
    The crowd—both common and noble—cheered and applauded as the Crimson Knight’s charger stomped and snorted.
    King Dacian nodded to his first knight—smiled as Sir Broderick rode on and the procession of knights continued.
    “Thus your hero has entered the tournament, Monet,” King Dacian said.
    “Your Crimson Knight seems lacking in humility,” King Rudolph said, taking his seat next to Dacian and nodding as his own first knight approached.
    “He only displays his unconditional allegiance,” King Dacian said. Monet glanced to where Anais stood next to her father, her expression that of caching some great secret.
    “I beg your pardon, Father,” Anais said, “but I must away to prepare for the Ceremony of Colors.”
    “And which knight bears your favour this tournament, Anais?” Monet’s father inquired.
    “If you will forgive me, your majesty…I have promised to keep that secret until the ceremony,” Anais said.
    “Such wisdom in one so youthful, Rudolph,” Monet heard her father force. “You have done well in raising her.” Monet knew her father was