"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 herself in it. She bowed her head to the men to her sides. They had been introduced as ministers. Courteous enough, they returned her bow. Again, the doors opened, and a number of liveried servants walked out, composed and uniformed. Quietly, they went about their tasks of serving food to all present. "I must confess, Your Majesty, that I fail to comprehend the reasoning behind this seating arrangement," remarked the lord seated beside the prince. "It is a complete departure from our usual dining protocol. Such a novel arrangement." With a subtle gesture, the king signalled to his man. "And I think you should try not to fathom it. Or do you intend to?" He inquired, his tone carrying a hint of… of something. The lord grew flustered. "I would never dare, even if I were inclined to do so." "I cannot decide, Lord Dashwood, if to commend you, or reprimand you?" The king mused aloud, his smile reappearing once again casting a veil of confusion over the receiving party. The lord, Lord Dashwood, took a quick sip from his cup. Then, the King's gaze shifted to the prince seated at his right. His smile dropped. "I distinctly recall asking you to have that attended to." "If your concern for me were genuine, you wouldn't have inflicted such a grievous wound in the first place," the prince retorted, massaging the injury on his arm. "Leave my wounds be." Gwen observed and saw the genuine sense of concern in the king's eyes as he glanced at his brother. She couldn't be certain if he truly regretted inflicting the injury during their tournament earlier, his worry for the prince appeared sincere. Anyone could see it. As the servants completed their tasks and withdrew, the room descended into the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of conversation as everyone began to eat with gusto. So far from the only people in the room Gwen knew and trusted, the food tasted different. It was bland to her tongue, but despite it, she dutifully consumed it. Fear stole the element of taste from her. When she chanced a glance at Lord Cossington, she noticed his gaze fixed upon Beth, and an uncomfortable smile on his cheeks. The sight filled her with a deep sense of loathing towards the man. How greatly she hated him. The clatter and dashing of cutlery against plates, cups against the table, continued, filling the hall with enough noise, one loud enough that the silence was not so deafening. Gwen kept her head bowed, determined to finish her meal swiftly so she could make her escape as soon as dinner was through. In hindsight, perhaps she should have declined the invitation, regardless of who it might have offended. The thought of sitting and sharing a meal with Lord Cossington, even with several people separating them, was too great a punishment for her. "Why has no one inquired about the identities of the ladies present?" The king interjected abruptly, causing Gwen to nearly choke on her soup as she was startled. "Am I to believe that you are all acquainted with them?" "No one would dare question you or your guests, my Lord," The minister to her left replied. "But they are not my guests, you see. They are Carlisle's guests." The King clarified. The minister's shock was palpable. "All of them?" "Why, yes," affirmed the king as he speared a piece of meat with his fork. "All of them." With that, he began to eat. "Why do you appear so astonished, Mr. Gerald? Are there too many guests for one man to host?" The prince quipped, his hand absentmindedly tracing the scar across his eye. With each passing word uttered around the table, Gwen's unease deepened. Were the men assuming the worst? Did they think of them as more than just guests of the Duke? Were they being perceived as mere entertainment? "No," Mr. Gerald's words were not convincing. Gwen looked and caught the amused smile of the king. "No," he repeated, his tone more resolute this time. "I simply wonder how Lord Carlisle could have amassed so many friends, considering he is seldom seen at social gatherings." Someone at the table chuckled. "They are wondering, Carlisle." Setting his cutlery down with a decisive clink, the Duke turned to the minister, his hand resting firmly on the table. "I am under no obligation to divulge their identities to you, but I will." He declared. "The ladies are sisters and a cousin. We met perchance and the topic of the castle arose in conversation. Since I was headed here, I invited them along to have a look for themselves, and His Majesty was gracious enough to permit them a tour of his home." A hush fell over the hall causing an overwhelming silence as the men gaped incredulously at the Duke. Gwen couldn't comprehend their reaction. Did they doubt his words? Did they perceive his explanation as deceitful? "That was quite a sentence, Lord Carlisle," remarked Mr. Gerald. "The longest I've heard from you since my arrival at the castle." His comment elicited subdued laughter and murmurs of agreement. "In fact, it might just be one of the longest sentences I've ever heard you utter outside of a council meeting." The King's hearty laughter reverberated through the room, prompting others to join in. Then, addressing Beth directly, he asked, "Lady Fitzgerald, have you enjoyed your visit thus far?" Beth set down her cutlery and nodded graciously. "Indeed, I have. We have. It is a privilege for us commoners to have witnessed a royal tournament. We are grateful for your kindness and hospitality." With a respectful bow of her head, she conveyed her gratitude. "A smooth talker, indeed," remarked the King with a chuckle. Then, his tone turning more serious, he turned his attention to Lord Cossington. "Cossington, I've heard rumours that you are an old acquaintance of theirs." Gwen felt as though her limbs had turned to heavy steel. She almost lost the ability to move and her heart was pounding erratically in her chest. Her eyes darted again across the table to Beth who was already looking at her. Her sister was as affected as her, but she gave a small smile, trying to encourage her. It did not help. What would happen if Lord Cossington revealed their former engagement? He was the one who had refused her hand in marriage and put an end to their rather long and meaningless betrothal, but she would be the one disgraced. Her family would be humiliated at the table where she sat with strangers to a meal, and the ever-teasing King might seize the opportunity to mock her for failing to secure a husband. Raising her eyes to Lord Cossington, Gwen sought to glean any hint of his intentions, hoping to gain something before they were spoken, but he was not looking at her. His attention was fixed elsewhere—on the Duke of Carlisle."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
"Your performance upon the piano forte." He nodded towards it. "It was amazing." Then, "Would you be so kind as to grace me with another rendition?""Your Majesty?"The King's eyes held hers. "Guinevere, I want you to play for me again." He commanded.Was he punishing her? Was that why he asked her to play again? She couldn't possibly! "Your Majesty, I would never step foot in this room again." She swore.The King stepped away from the wall, walking over to the piano forte. As he approached, Gwen's heart raced with anticipation, unsure of what to expect next. She watched in rapt attention as he reached out to brush his fingers lightly across the keys, eliciting a soft, melodic whisper from the instrument.The sight of him at the piano forte sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn't help but admire the graceful way in which he moved, his presence commanding yet strangely captivating. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, seeing the king engaged in something so intimate and person
Gwen rushed to join the waiting party. After she had escaped the conversation with the king, she had moved with more speed than grace and had gone to get the shawls which was her primary assignment. Despite the sunrays, the morning air remained chilly, and with the cold wind blowing, Beth would start to turn pink and that was the reason she had gone to get shawls for her, for them all. She never thought of encountering the king or getting herself entangled in the odd conversation. Now, she hastened out of the castle, fleeing as though danger was right behind her."Where have you been? How long does it take to fetch some clothing?" Lucy, echoing Aunt Marrily's demeanour, approached Gwen as soon as she was within earshot."I got a bit turned around." Gwen fibbed. She couldn't possibly tell that she had ventured into the king's piano room and ended up in conversation with him."I had a feeling. The castle is great and mighty!" Lucy responded excitedly, taking the blue shawl from Gwen and
After a few moments, the king broke the silence, directing his man. "Edmund, would you be so kind as to accompany and entertain Lady Gallagher? I wish to explore Guinevere's company alone."God, no! Gwen refused in her head, her heart sinking. She dreaded being alone with the King. His presence made her doubt herself and filled her with anxiety. "Your Majesty, we should stay together." She protested, hoping to avoid being alone with him."I mean nothing by it." He assured, but his smile held a different implication. "I promise to return you unharmed, to quell any concerns your sister may have.""But, Your Majesty…""Edmund, tell Lady Gallagher of the stories of the moors and the history of the castle.""Yes, Your Majesty." The kingsman replied immediately. Of course, he could not refuse. "Shall we, Lady Gallagher?"With a short smile, Lucy commanded her horse after Edmund, the faithful and obedient servant. "Do enjoy the ride, Gwen." And they were off.How was she to enjoy it?! She wa
"Guinevere is a truly beautiful name, have I not mentioned it before?" His tone was soft and his remark, contemplative.He had. Gwen nodded slowly, recalling previous instances when he had addressed her by name. "I mean, you address me as if we were acquaintances." In truth, he had extended more familiarity than mere acquaintanceship. "As if we were friends.""We are friends. Any friend of Carlisle is a friend of mine." The king asserted, his horse nudging hers playfully as if to emphasize his point."But I am not a friend of the Duke; it is my sister who shares that bond with him, not me." Gwen pointed out."Then we should uproot that obstacle. From this day forth, we are friends, Guinevere." He declared, his words carrying an air of finality.Gwen was momentarily stunned by his proclamation. Was it not proper to ask for a hand of friendship rather than declare it so boldly? In the brief time she had known him, she had observed the king's tendency to assert rather than negotiate. Was
Gwen flushed with embarrassment, recalling the unexpected appearance of the fox earlier. "That fox appeared out of nowhere." She called out, her cheeks burning with humiliation. "I was more surprised than scared.""I have said nothing at all." The king offered over his shoulder and continued to walk away with a casual air of indifference. Feeling a surge of frustration and annoyance, Gwen turned away from him, her jaw clenched in silent frustration. She couldn't help but wonder if their brief encounter had been worth the effort, or if she had simply fallen victim to the king's inflated ego once again.The sun's rays danced upon the surface of something shimmering in the distance, and the reflection drew Gwen's attention. There was a passing waterbrook, winding its way away from where they stood. Its tranquil flow mesmerized her, and she went towards it.Entering perfectly into the king's secret place, Gwen found it was small and covered all around by a canopy of trees. Like a well-gua
"Today was the first time in a long while I heard a piece from that piano." The king's voice betrayed the stillness.As his movement disrupted the serene atmosphere, Gwen's fingers instinctively grasped the fabric of her dress, a nervous habit betraying her unease. "I apologize again, Your Majesty, for using our pianoforte without your permission." She murmured.Resting his hands behind his head, the king regarded Gwen with a curious expression. "And again, I say your piece was beautiful." He smiled. "Who is the composer?"A soft smile graced Gwen's lips as a reply to the king's and as she fondly recalled the origins of the piece. "My mother." There was warmth in her voice. The king's eyebrows quirked in question, prompting Gwen to stifle a laugh. "Our mother has an affinity for all her children," she explained, her eyes alight with affection, "and she knows our preferences and predilections.""Does she now?" He mused.Animated, Gwen continued. "Very well." With fondness, she thought