Queen's Heart: An Arthurian Paranormal Romance (Arthurian Hearts Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Phoenix Sullivan
this stranger. More galling, though, it would be to reveal myself and have Yseult turn her back on me and her entire House turn their swords against me while I was still their guest.
Lies, however, seem always to have a way of discovering themselves.
CHAPTER FIVE
YSEULT
Though my father commanded fifty knights and ten times those numbers in troops at need, never had I felt safer than I did riding with Drustan to my left and the new-come knight, Palomides, to my right.
There was more to Drustan than he cared to share. His rich baritone was pleasing enough and it amazed me to see how supple his large hands were at plucking the delicate strings of his instrument. He was indeed a master bard. But while music might have been his soul, it was not his heart.
I had felt it in the Great Hall where my father’s men passed from time to time. And I felt it now in the presence of Palomides. Drustan may have bowed to my whim to play, but the deference he showed was strained. He was never a man brought up to serve but to lead. From his very air in the way he held himself to the lift of his head and the way his warm eyes met others so fearlessly and directly.
I also knew intimately the firm swell of his muscles. Size and strength like that came from a lifetime of practice with sword and shield. That Drustan was still in his early twenties meant his training had to have started when he was an unbearded boy.
I won’t deny a bit of disappointment at how quickly he’d recovered to this point. A tunic found its way over those impressive shoulders and that broad, bare chest much too soon. Excuses to feel the ripple and heat of him beneath my fingertips fled all too quickly.
Body to body, I was drawn to him. And by the lingering gazes and soft smiles when I touched him, he was drawn to me.
But until I knew his secret—knew who he was and why he hid himself so—my body’s desires would have to be fettered.
Yet here now was Palomides. In face, he was beautiful to look upon. Mesmerizing even. Where Drustan’s face was strong and broad and male and utterly handsome, Palomides’ face had a delicacy to it that hinted at sensitivity and sorrow. A contradiction of complexity and simplicity that resolved itself in a stunning presence more exquisitely shaped than what I had ever seen or was likely to ever see again.
The rest of him appeared no less complex. Strength for certain, but tempered by a grace and willowness of form. I longed to see him dance with a sword.
“There will be a tourney in a fortnight,” I said to him when Drustan paused for breath between songs. “If no other obligations call you, perhaps you will stay for it?”
“Before today, my only obligation was to my blade. Now should Lady Yseult command it, I will obey.”
I shivered hearing the fervency in his voice. Instinctively I knew both these men would lay down their lives for me. Not out of duty in the way my father’s knights would die for him, but out of passion, a motivator often greater than honor. The notion was a heady one, and humbling. True, I had been brought up to command and asking for obedience came as naturally as breath. But what eagerness my father’s knights professed to please me came from currying favor with him. Handmaids scurried at my behest to escape the wrath of my mother, though in her case, ‘wrath’ translated merely into cold stares and disappointed sighs. Severe disobedience, however, from knights or servants, could well mean exile and blows to personal or professional honor. I liked to believe my parents were just and fair, delivering punishment and reward swiftly and liberally, with surety and confidence. Those were the qualities I aspired to for when I took my mother’s place as queen.
Brangien, of course, was an exception. We were devoted, she and I. Fast and true friends despite our station differences.
Or so I could fool myself being in the station above. “Ever and always,” Brangien and I had vowed, one to the other,
Lies, however, seem always to have a way of discovering themselves.
CHAPTER FIVE
YSEULT
Though my father commanded fifty knights and ten times those numbers in troops at need, never had I felt safer than I did riding with Drustan to my left and the new-come knight, Palomides, to my right.
There was more to Drustan than he cared to share. His rich baritone was pleasing enough and it amazed me to see how supple his large hands were at plucking the delicate strings of his instrument. He was indeed a master bard. But while music might have been his soul, it was not his heart.
I had felt it in the Great Hall where my father’s men passed from time to time. And I felt it now in the presence of Palomides. Drustan may have bowed to my whim to play, but the deference he showed was strained. He was never a man brought up to serve but to lead. From his very air in the way he held himself to the lift of his head and the way his warm eyes met others so fearlessly and directly.
I also knew intimately the firm swell of his muscles. Size and strength like that came from a lifetime of practice with sword and shield. That Drustan was still in his early twenties meant his training had to have started when he was an unbearded boy.
I won’t deny a bit of disappointment at how quickly he’d recovered to this point. A tunic found its way over those impressive shoulders and that broad, bare chest much too soon. Excuses to feel the ripple and heat of him beneath my fingertips fled all too quickly.
Body to body, I was drawn to him. And by the lingering gazes and soft smiles when I touched him, he was drawn to me.
But until I knew his secret—knew who he was and why he hid himself so—my body’s desires would have to be fettered.
Yet here now was Palomides. In face, he was beautiful to look upon. Mesmerizing even. Where Drustan’s face was strong and broad and male and utterly handsome, Palomides’ face had a delicacy to it that hinted at sensitivity and sorrow. A contradiction of complexity and simplicity that resolved itself in a stunning presence more exquisitely shaped than what I had ever seen or was likely to ever see again.
The rest of him appeared no less complex. Strength for certain, but tempered by a grace and willowness of form. I longed to see him dance with a sword.
“There will be a tourney in a fortnight,” I said to him when Drustan paused for breath between songs. “If no other obligations call you, perhaps you will stay for it?”
“Before today, my only obligation was to my blade. Now should Lady Yseult command it, I will obey.”
I shivered hearing the fervency in his voice. Instinctively I knew both these men would lay down their lives for me. Not out of duty in the way my father’s knights would die for him, but out of passion, a motivator often greater than honor. The notion was a heady one, and humbling. True, I had been brought up to command and asking for obedience came as naturally as breath. But what eagerness my father’s knights professed to please me came from currying favor with him. Handmaids scurried at my behest to escape the wrath of my mother, though in her case, ‘wrath’ translated merely into cold stares and disappointed sighs. Severe disobedience, however, from knights or servants, could well mean exile and blows to personal or professional honor. I liked to believe my parents were just and fair, delivering punishment and reward swiftly and liberally, with surety and confidence. Those were the qualities I aspired to for when I took my mother’s place as queen.
Brangien, of course, was an exception. We were devoted, she and I. Fast and true friends despite our station differences.
Or so I could fool myself being in the station above. “Ever and always,” Brangien and I had vowed, one to the other,
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