Read Online The Singer's Crown by Elaine Isaak - Free Book Online Page A

mumbled. “It must be the lack of sleep.”
    Melisande tipped back her head, gazing up at him. “Perhaps if you sang?”
    He faltered at first, then the song grew steadier—“Morning Prayer to the Goddess.” She joined her voice to his after a moment, an unexpected delight for one used to singing alone. She lacked his years of training, but made up for it in spirit. The prayer felt almost like a love song, and Kattanan ended rather abruptly.
    â€œThank you,” said Melisande softly. “I missed prayer this morning. There’s a priestess who usually comes, but she always looks so stern and asks me if I have been living a holy life. You’ve had some dealings with the clergy. Are they all so stuffy?”
    â€œNo, not all.” He avoided her gaze, trying to master the sudden hitch in his breath.
    â€œOh.” She swallowed, then asked, “Can you do my hair in plaits at the side?”
    In silence, Kattanan separated her hair, and braided it with deft fingers. “All done, Highness.” He picked up the looking glass and held it before her. She touched his hand lightly, her fingers steadying his. Their faces reflected side by side, and their eyes met.
    â€œIt’s beautiful,” she said, smiling. Outside a bell struck. Melisande’s eyes flew wide as she jumped up. “Afternoon bells! Wolfram is waiting supper for me. Where are my maids?” She looked around.
    â€œYou sent them off, Highness,” Kattanan pointed out.
    â€œWell, I can’t go with no escort at all. Attend me.”
    â€œBut, Highness…” Kattanan began to protest, but she had already gathered her skirts and gone for the door.

Four
    THE BLACK gown did make Melisande look pale indeed, and the braids hanging against her shoulders gave her the air of a wayward child, one certainly not of marrying age. Kattanan hurried to keep up with her as she trotted down familiar halls and arrived breathless outside an oaken door. A liveried servant bowed her in immediately, giving Kattanan a strange look as he trailed after. Within was a large table dominated by a great empty chair at one end. Though he wore his father’s crown, Wolfram was not willing to sit at his place. A dozen other courtiers rose to bow to Melisande at her abrupt entrance. Some were wearing scarlet garb, and the rest had bound bands of mourning around their arms. Crown Prince Wolfram shone in his red satin, his auburn hair just brushing the shoulder. His face was tired, and his glance at her attendant dubious, but still he took her hand to lead her to her place. When he sat, the others did likewise. Diagonally across from the princess, Montgomery gave Kattanan a hard stare. A stool sat behind each noble’s chair for his or her attendant, and Kattanan’s stool provided him a clear view of the squire, who sneered at him when the others weren’t looking.
    â€œNow that my sister has arrived, we may begin,” Wolfram announced. The servers moved forward, laden with trays that smelled of exotic spices. As the nobles began their meal, several of the attending ladies brought out needlework to stitch at while whispering to one another. Many glances were cast his way, by both servants and nobility.
    After a time, Kattanan relaxed. The duty, it seemed, was simply to sit unless called for by one’s master. The courtiers fawned over the princess, offering their condolences. She smiled faintly and paid many compliments to the dead baron.
    â€œYou are so gracious to my lord,” Sir put in. “Were I highborn, I should press his suit as my own.” The smile seemed nearly genuine, and he became, for a moment, the loyal man the baron had always seen.
    â€œThank you, good squire,” Melisande murmured.
    â€œIt would gladden my heart to have you call me Montgomery,” he said earnestly.
    â€œVery well, Montgomery. I can well see why Eadmund took you to his service.”
    Sir contrived a sad