Queen of the Summer Stars Read Online Free Page A

at her still form and sobbed aloud.
    There was a flicker of movement and the dark eyes opened, assessing my presence at the foot of her bed.
    “M’lady…oh, M’lady,” I cried, rushing to kneel at her side and pressing her cold hand to my cheek.
    “Now, now, child…there’s no need to weep. It’s enough that you got here in time.” She was smiling at me while her fragile fingers tried to wipe away the tears. “Tsch, tsch…I didn’t send for you to watch you mourn. I’m not afraid of dying, and I’ve made my confession already, but there’s still a matter left undone. Are you listening, child?”
    “Of course, M’lady,” I gulped. “What can I do?”
    “Prop up my pillows, to begin with. I can’t talk lying down, and I want to tell you about Uther, and Tintagel.”
    For a moment I thought she had confused me with a priest, but the old twinkle crept into her eyes and she gave a small laugh.
    “There’s some things, my dear, which men will never understand—even, or perhaps particularly, men of the cloth. I’ve made my peace as regards my Christian life, and expect to see the heaven they tell of soon enough; but it’s wise to give credit where it’s due, and matters that pertain to the Goddess are best shared with one who follows the Old Ways. Besides,” she added thoughtfully, “it’s a story you’ll do well to remember.”
    So I propped her up on the pillows and settled silently on the stool to listen.
    “Gorlois was always a good man; honest and true and gentle,” Igraine began. “And I would have done nothing to hurt him, in either word or deed. Perhaps the fear I felt in leaving Tintagel was as much for him as for myself, for while I didn’t understand the Goddess yet, I dreaded Her power.”
    The Roads to Winchester were packed with people hurrying to obey Uther’s summons—nobles decked in fur and gold, client kings surrounded by their warriors, even commoners striding along on foot, all come to see what sort of creature this new Pendragon was. Sunlight glinted off rooftop and hill, where new snow turned the landscape black and white, and winter trees stood etched like brooms against the sky. Even the horses’ breath hung in steamy clouds as they passed through the walls at Southgate’s tower.
    Igraine’s uneasiness was soon replaced by curiosity, for the shy country Duchess had never seen such a gathering before. She even enjoyed the first evening in the Hall, though the High King himself did not make an appearance.
    Waking at dawn the next morning, she wrapped herself in a long, dark cloak and tiptoed out of the Hall to go walk among the birches at the top of the hill, seeking the inner peace such settings always gave her. It was there she found a young falcon, hunkered in the snow, with one wing dragging. Slipping her soft glove over the bird’s head to quiet it, she crouched down to examine the pinion.
    Suddenly a pair of boots planted themselves between her and the path back to the Hall—well-made boots of polished leather, with spurs that spoke of both power and cruelty. For one terrifying moment Igraine’s heart leapt into her throat. Then, like a falcon, she raised her proud gaze upward to the man who towered over her.
    ***
     
    “I had no idea who he was, but as I took in the hawklike features, I knew he was as wild and untamable as the wind at Tintagel,” my mother-in-law said, her voice vibrant with memory.
    The man stared down at the beauty at his feet, surprise leaving him speechless. And Igraine stared back, noting every detail of his face. It was only when he raised his hand and she saw the Dragon Ring that she realized he was the High King.
    “Do you always tame raptors, M’lady?” he inquired suddenly, without introduction or greeting.
    “Not tame, M’lord, merely heal,” she answered, never flinching under his scrutiny. It was a simple response, but it went home to Uther in a way she had not foreseen. He flushed heavily, and turning abruptly, strode