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Authors: Elise Marion
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head lowered demurely. “Your Grace,” she said. “It is an honor to feast with you this evening.”
His hand found her chin and lifted it as she rose, his lips brushing her forehead as he caressed her jaw with his thumb. Gwendolyn started, but did not pull away. She must remember that Lerrothians were openly affectionate people. If she were to marry this man, he would touch her this way publicly when it pleased him. The others in the room watched them curiously, openly staring as Gaiwan maintained his hold on her hand.
“Milady, I am the one who is honored. Your arrival has brightened this great hall considerably, and your beauty is a wonder to behold. My heart sings at the sight of you.”
Gwendolyn muffled a giggle as she took her place between Gaiwan and her mother. Lady Enid patted her hand gently and nodded in approval after she’d taken in her daughter’s purple and silver ensemble. To Gaiwan’s right sat his mother, Queen Rhiannon. Princess Rosalie, Gaiwan’s elder sister, and Prince Darius, his younger brother, along with his wife, Princess Sebille, were in attendance as well. King Henry had remained in Lerrothe, as other obligations kept him from travel. Below the dais, the knights, friends, and family that had accompanied the Bainards to Dinasdale mingled with the residents of Seahaven.
Genial chatter resumed as the first course—a creamy soup filled with mussels and clams—was served. Prince Gaiwan laughed easily and spoke kindly to everyone, a trait that Gwen could admire in a man of power. She attempted to relax and enjoy the evening, hoping that time would ease her nervousness toward her betrothed.
“When I arrived this afternoon, I was told you’d gone hunting with your brothers,” he said as a page refilled his cup with a golden ale. “I did not know you were a huntress. Many of the women of Lerrothe hunt as well. Why, my sister Rosalie is quite the falconer.”
“I do not hunt with falcons or hawks, Your Grace,” Gwen replied as her empty bowl was taken away and replaced with a trencher. “I prefer to kill my own prey with bow and arrow.”
“Gwendolyn!” her mother exclaimed, horrified. She smiled prettily at the prince. “You must excuse my daughter, Your Grace. Being the only daughter in a house full of sons has made Gwen a bit … willful. She hunts with her brothers, but indulges in many other pursuits of a more suitable nature. Tell him, Gwen, of your skill with the needle.”
Gwen turned to Gaiwan. “I am quite deft with a needle, Your Grace, though far more skilled with a bow. In fact, I killed four wild pigs just this afternoon.”
Gwen fought back a grin as her mother sputtered and choked on her wine. Prince Gaiwan’s smile was wide as he laughed, displaying two rows of beautiful white teeth. “Never fear, Lady Enid, I find your daughter most charming.” He took her hand once more, bringing it to his lips. His thumb caressed her palm and he smiled. “Such soft hands, milady, for one who is so proficient with a bow.”
Gwen took her hand back and busied herself with buttering her bread. The rest of the feast passed in a blur of courses, wine , and pleasantries exchanged between herself and Gaiwan. Laughter swelled as wine and ale flowed, yet Gwen could enjoy none of it with the Maignart mountain pressed insistently against her breast. She traded many glances with her uncle, but did not dare leave the hall until the appropriate time.
When the minstrels—who had been playing softly in the gallery above them—began a tune fit for dancing, the mood in the hall shifted. Those at the lower tables began dicing and dancing, while some of the knights tried to outdo each other at knife throwing. Her brothers descended from the dais, Evrain taking his wife Josaine into his arms for a dance, while Leofred and Achart joined the knights at guzzling ale and knife throwing. Gwen smirked as she watched Jorin take the empty seat beside Sir Tristian Garin, one of the greatest
His hand found her chin and lifted it as she rose, his lips brushing her forehead as he caressed her jaw with his thumb. Gwendolyn started, but did not pull away. She must remember that Lerrothians were openly affectionate people. If she were to marry this man, he would touch her this way publicly when it pleased him. The others in the room watched them curiously, openly staring as Gaiwan maintained his hold on her hand.
“Milady, I am the one who is honored. Your arrival has brightened this great hall considerably, and your beauty is a wonder to behold. My heart sings at the sight of you.”
Gwendolyn muffled a giggle as she took her place between Gaiwan and her mother. Lady Enid patted her hand gently and nodded in approval after she’d taken in her daughter’s purple and silver ensemble. To Gaiwan’s right sat his mother, Queen Rhiannon. Princess Rosalie, Gaiwan’s elder sister, and Prince Darius, his younger brother, along with his wife, Princess Sebille, were in attendance as well. King Henry had remained in Lerrothe, as other obligations kept him from travel. Below the dais, the knights, friends, and family that had accompanied the Bainards to Dinasdale mingled with the residents of Seahaven.
Genial chatter resumed as the first course—a creamy soup filled with mussels and clams—was served. Prince Gaiwan laughed easily and spoke kindly to everyone, a trait that Gwen could admire in a man of power. She attempted to relax and enjoy the evening, hoping that time would ease her nervousness toward her betrothed.
“When I arrived this afternoon, I was told you’d gone hunting with your brothers,” he said as a page refilled his cup with a golden ale. “I did not know you were a huntress. Many of the women of Lerrothe hunt as well. Why, my sister Rosalie is quite the falconer.”
“I do not hunt with falcons or hawks, Your Grace,” Gwen replied as her empty bowl was taken away and replaced with a trencher. “I prefer to kill my own prey with bow and arrow.”
“Gwendolyn!” her mother exclaimed, horrified. She smiled prettily at the prince. “You must excuse my daughter, Your Grace. Being the only daughter in a house full of sons has made Gwen a bit … willful. She hunts with her brothers, but indulges in many other pursuits of a more suitable nature. Tell him, Gwen, of your skill with the needle.”
Gwen turned to Gaiwan. “I am quite deft with a needle, Your Grace, though far more skilled with a bow. In fact, I killed four wild pigs just this afternoon.”
Gwen fought back a grin as her mother sputtered and choked on her wine. Prince Gaiwan’s smile was wide as he laughed, displaying two rows of beautiful white teeth. “Never fear, Lady Enid, I find your daughter most charming.” He took her hand once more, bringing it to his lips. His thumb caressed her palm and he smiled. “Such soft hands, milady, for one who is so proficient with a bow.”
Gwen took her hand back and busied herself with buttering her bread. The rest of the feast passed in a blur of courses, wine , and pleasantries exchanged between herself and Gaiwan. Laughter swelled as wine and ale flowed, yet Gwen could enjoy none of it with the Maignart mountain pressed insistently against her breast. She traded many glances with her uncle, but did not dare leave the hall until the appropriate time.
When the minstrels—who had been playing softly in the gallery above them—began a tune fit for dancing, the mood in the hall shifted. Those at the lower tables began dicing and dancing, while some of the knights tried to outdo each other at knife throwing. Her brothers descended from the dais, Evrain taking his wife Josaine into his arms for a dance, while Leofred and Achart joined the knights at guzzling ale and knife throwing. Gwen smirked as she watched Jorin take the empty seat beside Sir Tristian Garin, one of the greatest
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