The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,125

all!”

Lord Vawdrey tutted sympathetically and Una pressed her lips together. “Very well, I will join His Majesty in the royal box,” she had conceded with barely concealed ill grace and been rewarded with a singularly charming smile. “I only hope my husband will not be too displeased,” she added darkly.

“Dear me, I am persuaded he will be thrilled at the opportunity to both impress you and cover himself in glory in one fell swoop,” Lord Vawdrey had answered with an arched black brow. Una had felt suddenly an uncomfortable suspicion that that Lord Vawdrey was fully aware that Armand had spent most of his competitive career dissembling. She felt herself color hotly and was glad to flee his presence at the first opportunity.

For the past two weeks, she had spent as much time in Wymer’s company as she had Armand’s. She had been expected to sit with the King at formal banquets almost every evening. She was urged to join him on his morning hunt and applaud his prowess in the saddle. She had been hawking with the King, and even summoned to breakfast with him, a high favor indeed and one extended to precious few.

The King only ever breakfasted attended by Bathilde, his treasured old nurse, and whoever was his current favorite. Bathilde had clucked over her and served her a revolting pap of milk and bread that Wymer had eaten as meekly as any child in the nursery. Then, he had taken her on a tour of the royal crown jewels. She had seen, with surprise, the two highly encrusted collars she had left behind, encased beside the King’s ceremonial crowns. He had nodded at them significantly and patted her hand.

“Well, well, you’re a good girl,” he had said, clearing his throat. “And a credit to me.”

In short, the history books had been entirely revised and Una now figured in them, not as a foreign oddity and royal embarrassment, but as Wymer’s most cherished cousin, a relation he prized so highly that he had bestowed her hand in marriage on one of his most favored knights. Una though bewildered by this turn of events, could only be grateful for it.

At the banquet the previous evening, there had been a ballad sung in her honor of her loyalty to the King, her royal cousin, and her beauty, which inspired devotion in a chivalric breast. Una had scarcely known where to look, but the assembly had enthusiastically applauded and demanded an encore.

Armand’s own reaction had been somewhat mixed. “Aye, well so long as he doesn’t start getting any ideas,” he had rumbled, pulling her into his arms as soon as they were alone. Una had hurriedly assured him that the King’s attentions were far from amorous but seemed instead a bewildering mix of the brotherly and the paternal. He had been appeased, but Una could not help but be aware that Armand was as keen to return to Little Derring as she was. That fact alone made her able now to bear court and all its attendant nonsense.

She glanced to the side where Fulcher lolled with the royal pages, looking disreputable as ever. Really, she would have to make him another hat soon, for that one looked quite dreadful perched on his head. He was having a high time acting as Armand’s attendant, for they had been unable to drag the newlywed Otho away from Lynwode or from Rose. Fulcher noticing her regard, tipped her a wink, nodding meaningfully to the arena and Una turned back to watch.

Armand’s sword swung down upon Sir Garman Orde’s with a mighty clash of steel. The King’s hand simultaneously clapped down on Una’s knee and gripped it so hard she nearly shot out of her seat.

“He’s going to do it!” Wymer muttered excitedly. “Always knew he had it in him! I always said, did I not? That he could be a champion.” Wymer’s words were choked with emotion and his eyes moist. Una marveled that he could feel so deeply about it.

Queen Armenal pursed her lips. “If he garners glory now,” she said, “he does so, because he hath found something worth fighting for.” She paused when both Wymer and Una looked back at her blankly. “His lady’s honor,” the Queen explained loftily.

“Oh aye,” Wymer agreed, blowing his nose. “I take your meaning. It’s for your sake cousin, that he has found his form.” He patted Una’s hand and signaled for a page to bring forth wine. “My cousin, my cousin,” he ushered irritably