it seems you have won a prize.’
Alice didn’t know how to answer. Despite the King’s laughter his brow remained furrowed, and it gave him a troubled look.
She chastised herself. Perhaps he could not rid himself of worry when there were such heavy matters to deal with in the north. But with such concerns, why was he bothering with a courtly game?
His chamberlain was suddenly on her right. In his hands was an elaborate ivory hunting horn. Even in the great glitter of Court the horn glimmered bright, its three bands of carved silver sparkling like stars. If this was her prize for such sport, every extravagance her sister had told her about Court was true.
She bowed her head. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
He inclined his head, but looked beyond her shoulder. She would have looked, too, but the chamberlain was handing her the horn. His manner was overtly stiff, his arms barely extended. It forced her to bend low and forward to retrieve it, or look as if she was refusing the prize.
She was practically wrapped around him when she heard his message, whispered so softly only she could hear.
‘You will go to the antechamber when the third song starts.’
Startled at the words, she didn’t react as the chamberlain grabbed the seal, shoved the horn into her hand and disappeared.
When she looked up from the horn the King was gone. She had not acknowledged a king leaving the throne. What was wrong with her?
Courtiers swarmed around her, but her ears and eyes were numb to their excited chatter.
She heard music faintly in the background. Had she missed a song?
No, the chamberlain had just left, and the people around her were moving into a dance. It was the first song.
At the third song the King commanded a private meeting with her. Although the chamberlain had not said so, she knew this was not something to be repeated. Not that she would tell any of the people crowding around her to admire the horn. They were strangers all, and she had never felt that fact more than at this moment.
She tried to accept their congratulations, but mostly she waited for their interest to wane. It did so in very little time.
Soon she was left alone, while people danced, gossiped and flirted. She had never understood until now what it meant when it was said that people twittered. She watched people laugh too gaily and talk too loudly. If they would simply be quiet she could concentrate.
Two, she counted. She knew this song.
There wasn’t much time before she must reach the antechamber. Certainly not enough to collect her thoughts, which were now more crumpled than her dress. She didn’t know why she was being summoned, or why she had felt the King was measuring her.
Maybe by her winning she had caught his eye. The Queen had been dead for years and he had yet to remarry. Was that why he had been assessing her? Did he wonder if she’d make a suitable mistress? Her heart lurched. It was an honour, but one that she had never hoped for; she certainly hadn’t wanted to win the game that much.
She searched the crowd for bright golden hair. But she didn’t need her eyes to know that Hugh was not in the room. Her awareness of that man was something she had carried most of her life.
There was no one for her to confide in. She had thought herself lucky that she had an entire week without her family prodding her to dance with men they thought suitable. But right now she would have appreciated a familiar face. What good was it to have a large family if none of them were around when she needed them?
The second song was ending. It was time for her to go. She was too frightened to look around—too worried that people would see where she was going and know what would happen to her.
The guards at the door seemed reluctant. They only stepped slightly out of her way, and opened the door the merest slit. She was forced to turn sideways to fit through. She certainly wasn’t an honoured guest.
Once inside, she heard the door shut with a heavy metal clank. Immediately, the crowd and music were muffled. It was too late for her to realise that she had taken comfort in the noise and people.
The room was lit by tall, narrow stained-glass windows. The natural light was calmer than the glitter and torches of the throne room. The sun had not set, which surprised her. It seemed that more time had passed since she had started the game.
The walls were finely decorated with red fleur-de-lis. Dark green velvet draperies hung from an elaborately carved four-poster bed. The huge fireplace was not lit, but shone brilliant white from many cleanings. On the far wall was a small round nook that was overpowered by a large golden cross.
King Edward sat in the middle of the room, next to a rectangular table that was laden with fine pewter and food.
There were no guards, no nobles nor courtiers vying for his attention. They were alone, and this was not an antechamber but his bedroom.
It was not these facts that gave her pause. It was the feeling of the room. Fine refreshments on the table, the King sitting and enjoying a repast, drinking wine... It was all so private, so...personal.
He turned his head to her. Bedroom or not, she was still before a monarch. She gave another curtsey.
‘Come, there will be no formality here.’ He waved for her to sit across from him at the table.
She did, her eyes never leaving his. His face remained unreadable, his eyes shadowed.
‘Would you like some refreshment?’ he asked, his eyes resting on the horn she had laid in her lap.
‘No, thank you,’ she replied, as deferentially as she could. She wouldn’t be able to get anything down her throat even if she tried. She was surprised she was able to speak.
‘You are nervous,’ he said.
She hesitated. ‘I am.’
King Edward sighed. ‘It cannot be helped. I wondered how you would fair, being of the softer sex.’
She was being judged. Had she disappointed him by being nervous? She had every reason to be uneasy—even to fear him. He was one of the greatest rulers in the world. But she realised that her nervousness stemmed from something more than simply knowing his power.
She was in a situation she couldn’t comprehend. Why would a king come back from war to play a game, and why she was in his private counsel, alone with him in his bedroom?
‘My fear is for what is expected of me, Your Majesty, not necessarily at your august company,’ she said.
He set down his goblet and raised surprised eyes to hers.
Her answer had gone too far. She had practically challenged a monarch.
‘I did not mean—’ she began.
King Edward gave a low chuckle and shook his head. ‘No, do not recant your answer. I am pleased with your honesty and I am relieved that you have no fear of me but of what is expected of you.’
‘I did not say that I did not fear your
