Alexander chose to indulge her excitement, but Carlisle was glaring still. "I am tempted to hear what your imaginations are, but I'm not keen on the glares of Carlisle here. He probably thinks I am in the act of seducing you." Her jaw dropped. This time, he chuckled. Oh, she would be easy, he gloried. "Enjoy your stay then."
"I thank you for this opportunity. We promise not to impose." Was she so righteous? Or was it a ruse? One thing was certain; her timidity would not sit right with him. What did Carlisle see in her to want her as a friend, as he claimed? "Why not?! Carlisle does it as much as he can. My Castle is open to all that choose to adhere to my rules." And all who can bear to survive my tease. He added wordlessly. Again, she bowed. "Then I must thank you for your hospitality." His humourous side was greatly appeased. He tittered. "A sweet talker, won't you agree, Carlisle?" but a timid one. She would bore him soon. "A great hostess you must be Lady Beth." And indeed, he was weary of her polite conversations. His eyes went to the fair maiden that stood to the back, her curious eye roaming the room, drinking in as much as it could. A beauty. "Which of the ladies are you?" First she looked to her sister, but she wouldn't dare disobey a king. "Gwen. Guinevere Fitzgerald, Your Majesty." She said, her voice soft, yet sharp enough to be heard. His lips pulled slightly to the left. "Guinevere." A beautiful name, a lovely voice and a comely face. "It is a beautiful name." "That is most kind of you, Your Majesty." Besides himself, Alexander gave into his laughter. He laughed so gaily and wondered to himself how her words were funny. Now, this one was entertaining. "I am many things, but kind?" Laughter echoed out of him again. "Don't trouble your thoughts, I am not. I have never been." He looked back to Carlisle. "They are quite an amazing bunch, are they not? It seems I will enjoy their stay as much as they will." And he intended to. His line of sight found the golden-haired lady. Guinevere. Jealousy! He saw it on Carlisle's face, unknown and unattended. And he dared name Lady Fitzgerald as a friend? Alexander scoffed and smirked. It was vivid that she was anything but. "It has been a long day for the ladies." The jealous Duke said. "Of course." He quickly agreed. Raising his voice a pitch higher, he ordered Edmund "Have them escorted to their rooms." "If I may, Your Majesty." Lady Fitzgerald called their attention. He lowered his eyes to her. She was smaller than most women in statue. "Forgive my insolence, but can I ask that we be allowed to share a room?" He turned his neck, his smile vanishing. "Why? Do you suppose the rooms here are not as grand as the ones at Carlisle Crest?" Her eyes widened. "No, Your Majesty, I didn't mean-" She was in his trap. "Oh, the rooms at Carlisle Crest are not grand?" His eyes went again to Carlisle and he of course remained with a fierce glare. Alexander was not the least bothered. "I thought they were." "They are, Your Majesty." His interest was piqued. She knew of the rooms at Carlisle Crest? "I suppose they are." The fun was gone. She didn't know. Oh how he would have dwelt on her words! "By my words, I only meant that I would prefer to have them in my line of sight. It would be safer." Foolish girl! Again, she ensnared herself deeper. "Perchance," He walked down to her, dwarfing her with his height. They all held at least an inch or two with their heights to hers, he noticed. "Are you suggesting that the Castle won't keep them safe?" She gasped. It was of fear. "I would never think such, Your Majesty. I didn't mean to accuse... I-I…" Her eyes lifted to Carlisle, seeking help. He would not let her. He hadn't had his fun yet. Damn Carlisle and his burning glares. "Why are you looking to Carlisle?" He stepped closer. She moved back. "I must say you are quite brave, accusing in such an honourable manner." "No, Your Majesty, they…they tend t-to be mischievous sometimes. I only-I only meant…" "Alexander." Carlisle suddenly called, a sound warning in his voice. Alexander was surprised. He kept his eyes on the trembling lady before him but his heart went out to the man who stood by them. He had called him by his given name. After so long, he would refer to him as a friend rather than a king. He still was immobile. The crown had set him aside from all, gave him absolute authority and absolute loneliness. His brother would rather be at sea than in the castle, or on land with him. And Carlisle, he almost sighed, would never relate with him as a friend should, not unless he pressed and pushed, demanding it. The throne was truly a burden, a burden he carried with stoic resignation. Amidst the trappings of power and authority, he found himself yearning for the simpler days of their childhood, before either came to full power of their birth, when the familiar call of Carlisle held more meaning than he dared to admit. Despite the privileges bestowed upon him by the crown, he remained isolated, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of responsibilities. His brother would rather be at sea than in the castle or on land with him, offering little solace to their familial bond. The gulf between them widened with each passing day, leaving him to navigate the complexities of rulership alone. As for Carlisle, he sighed, knowing how greatly he held onto their friendship. His status provided him a lot, but Alexander had attained more with his wits and resilience, never letting go of all he wanted and counted as his. He would continually press and push, demanding for them, never stopping until they were his. Carlisle had warned him, like a friend would. He stared down at the lady and decided to put her out of her misery, he was bored either way already. "Lady Beth." Slowly, she raised her eyes to his and he smiled, regaining his composure after being momentarily thrown out of it. "What an easy creature you are." He bent his waist to meet her eyes at the same level. "How would you survive around me? For I deeply enjoy to tease." She exhaled sharply. "No, Your Majesty, I-I failed to se-see your intent." He scoffed. Empty words. "Quite interesting." "Keep her from your list, Alexander." Carlisle demanded, walking over to stand between them. He was not the least concerned about the tone, though he was enjoying it. Carlisle seemed not to know of how easily he called him now. Alexander's heart rejoiced. "Very well." He said, agreeing to the demand. She was boring anyways and she was Carlisle's. He sent his eyes to Guinevere who stood so meekly behind and smiled when he caught her eyes. "I'll tease someone else then." She had a glint in her eyes that showed how innocent and interesting she would be, at least, until she bored him too. He climbed back to the throne. "I'll have you put in one room as per your wish." And he was done with her. "You should retire; it has been a long and emotional day, no?" "Thank you, Your Majesty." She said. With eyes still on the feeble lady, Carlisle asked. "Is your brother to be in attendance?" Alexander smirked. A distraction? Oh, there was no need for it, he did not care much for Lady Beth. "I sent out a note. Edmund, have them stay in the best room in the west wing." "Yes, Your Majesty." As Edmund led them out, Alexander's gaze lingered on the young Lady Fitzgerald, Guinevere, until she was completely out of the room. Her beauty caught him and in her eyes, he saw questions? She would be more entertaining than her older sister. He looked at the older sister and saw a flicker of emotion in her eyes. Was it fear? She was afraid. In her gaze loomed the apprehension of being separated from Carlisle. Curiously, he looked to Carlisle and couldn't help but notice the protective yet yearning expression on his face. Observing the scene, Alexander couldn't suppress a cynical scoff. It was evident to him that trouble loomed on the horizon, poised to descend like a tempest from the heavens. The signs were unmistakable - the brewing tension, the unspoken desires, the vein to finally challenge him as of old, all portended a storm waiting to unleash its fury. Indeed, the skies were poised to open, unleashing a deluge of chaos, of that, there was no doubt. It was simply a matter of when.Brand attempted another parry, anticipating Alexander's attack from the left, but his brother's cunning and expertise in swordsmanship proved to be a formidable challenge. Instead of following the expected trajectory, Alexander swiftly changed tactics, manoeuvring to Brand's right side. Caught off guard, Brand left himself vulnerable, providing Alexander with an opening and he took advantage. With a perfect move, Alexander swung and his blade made contact, grazing Brand's upper arm and drawing blood. Brand let out a yell of pain, instinctively retracting and clutching his wounded arm. "God dammit, you bastard!" Alexander let his sword drop to his side. "Watch your words, you speak to your king." It was ironic how he was being called a bastard by Brand. "I speak to my brother." His eyes narrowed with an intense glare. "Who happens to be your king." Then, "Raise your sword." He commanded, raising his, ready to fight again. Brand flexed his shoulders, stealing a brief glance at his
As they walked past the wall outside, flanked by verdant bushes, Alexander's gaze fell upon the two ladies awaiting the one whose help had been rejected. In a fleeting moment, his attention was fixated on the golden-haired figure, Guinevere, as beautiful as her name. Unlike her sister and cousin, she possessed a distinct allure that piqued his curiosity and she possessed no semblance to them.Observing her, he noted the way her eyes darted down when they bowed. Alexander stared on until they met his gaze, and impulsively, he smiled at her, continuing on his way. Whatever it was about her, he would find out. Brand walked ahead of him, still clutching his arm.Alexander didn't bother to look back at the fair lady, but for certain he knew, if Guinevere had approached him, offering to tend to his wound, he would not have rebuffed her assistance.***Gwen and Lucy lingered by the wall outside, waiting patiently for Beth's return. The tournament had ended, with the King emerging the victor,
"What do you know of weapons?" Lucy, always a pragmatist, interjected with a chuckle. "Gwen, what do we know of weapons?" Gwen bristled slightly at Lucy's skepticism, her desire to prove herself simmering beneath the surface. "I may not be a master swordsman," she replied evenly, "but I know talent when I see it." And she knew about swords. They were a form of protection. A companion to defence. A carrier of safety. With a sword in hand, she could protect and defend herself. And if need be, she could cause harm to all who frightened her, chasing them afar off and seeing that herself a secret her family was never again brought to humiliation. With a sword, and the knowledge of usage, she could protect herself, and her family, Gwen thought Lucy almost tripped, but caught herself in time. "What about the Duke?" She asked, stealing a sly glance at Beth who was trailing behind them, deep in thoughts. Whatever her reason for asking such a question was thwarted. Beth was greatly caught u
Running his other hand over the head of the chair, he calmly said. "I do not care whatever lies between the de Nocrosses and the Cossingtons, but I don't appreciate you bringing your personal family issues into my home." Carlisle turned and walked to the window. What was it about windows that always called to him? Alexander wondered. Once or twice, he had stood with him and the same things remained outside; people and more people. "I would not stand for it, Carlisle." He said, loud enough to be heard, low enough to command immersion.Turned from him, Carlisle said. "There are no issues between us.""No?" Alexander stood upright. "Not even the fact that you delayed your marriage to his sister and brought another woman along as your guest?" Carlisle's eyes remained out the window, refusing to respond to him. He pressed on. "Not even that?""There are no issues between us." Carlisle reiterated.The doors opened and the servants came in, walking in rolls, bringing along different dishes t
The walk to the dining hall felt akin to a march towards the guillotine for Gwen. Each step weighed heavily, without purpose or enthusiasm. Had the invitation to dinner not come from the Duke and if it was not a dinner with the King, Gwen would have refused outrightly. The prospect of sharing the same space as Lord Cossington filled her with dread, yet she had no choice. It was now beyond her and she would have to endure it.As soon as the servant who had informed them of the prepared table exited the room to wait outside, Beth had turned to Gwen, urging her to refuse the invitation if she felt unable to attend. She offered to excuse Gwen by feigning illness on her behalf. However, Gwen had hesitated, partly because she did not want to cause her sister any unnecessary worries and partly to avoid rudeness towards the Duke of Carlisle and the King of her country.Slowly, she trailed behind Beth and Lucy, as they followed closely behind the servant. The hall was a great distance from the
"But that will place me below Sir Georgestons." The same lord who had spoken before pointed out."Lord of Waichester, here there are no ranks, only men of like mind gathered for a meal," the King declared, his tone taking on a more relaxing edge. "While I might have chosen another seat, I am particularly partial to this one." His demeanour softened as he added, "Now, please, take your seat, and let us enjoy our dinner together. The food is growing cold."As everyone found and settled into their seats, wearing expressions of forced solemnity, Gwen slowly approached the table, searching like the others for her name card. When she finally found it, she was dismayed. Her name card was at the far end of the table, greatly removed from her sister and cousin, and positioned directly across from the king.Why had she been placed so far from her relatives? How would she survive the evening without their support and reassurance? Slowly, she walked to her assigned seat and carefully planted hers
"Our fathers were once close friends," Lord Cossington began, his voice measured. "But our families' relationship has since soured."A wave of relief washed over Gwen and unintentionally, she released a breath of air, her erratic heart momentarily calming down. He did not move to disgrace her. She hastily grabbed her cup and emptied its contents in one gulp. When she set it down, the minister seated beside her kindly refilled it. She bowed slightly, thanking him. He gave her a slow smile and she quickly looked away, feeling a pang of discomfort."I see." remarked the King, his attention still focused on his meal. "It's a pity about your families falling out." He continued to saw away at the meat on his plate. "Have you truly let go of any lingering feelings?"Gwen froze."Lingering feelings? There are no lingering feelings, Your Majesty." Lord Cossington replied tersely."Good," the King mumbled around a mouthful of food. His eyes went to Lord Cossington. "I would hate an altercation
Transfixed in place, Alexander stood by the door and watched in silence as Guinevere's fingers danced across the keys, releasing a beautiful tune that enraptured him, making his ears somewhat rejoice. Careful not to disrupt her, Alexander quietly entered the room and continued to observe Guinevere's performance.Her eyes were closed and she flung her head backwards, he saw the smile come alive on her face, her lips stretching to accommodate it. She painted a picture of pure bliss and he was deeply drawn into the enchanting scene. Alexander felt the sound coming from the keys ripple through her being, and by extension, he let it sing through his own bones. And as each note reverberated through the room, he felt a connection form between them, as if the music itself were weaving a bond between their souls. It was a fine tune, devoid of sorrow yet imbued with a solemn beauty. It filled the air with a sense of joy and Alexander found himself smiling to it.When the final note ended and Gu