Queen's Heart: An Arthurian Paranormal Romance (Arthurian Hearts Book 2) by Phoenix Sullivan Read Free Book Online
Authors: Phoenix Sullivan
charge, he had disappeared, only to return an hour later, meeting me at the doors to the hall and entering beside me with quiet command and confidence.
“Where were you?” I demanded.
He lifted a sun-red eyebrow in response. “Marking my territory.”
I grinned at the jest and let it go.
Funny how some of the most deadly truths we only recognize in hindsight.
When Anguish announced the proposal of marriage, it hit me like a gut blow. Mark’s first queen, Gwennol, had died, childless, from a wasting illness many years ago. He had taken her from an obscure chieftain in Cornish lands to solidify the clans of Cornwall as he expanded his kingdom. After Gwennol died, Mark held himself a bachelor for an occasion such as this, appointing his heirs in lieu of any son of his own. As favorite, and by right of arms, Tintagel—and Cornwall—would be mine when Mark died.
Second in line was Baron Andret.
Even at the back of the hall I could feel Yseult’s despair, mirrored in the face of the stranger knight who sat beside me. In other circumstances, the play of emotions across Palomides’ face as the news drove the radiance from his eyes and as his features turned dark and terrible would have been merely fascinating. Here, it was chilling. He seemed to have no thought for the alliance and peace, only for the tears of the pawn in this elaborate political game.
Of course, Yseult’s tears could move any man. They tore at my soul as well. But where Palomides found only despair, I saw salvation. Perverse though it was, my heart rejoiced that Yseult would be removed to Tintagel, my home, where I could look upon her forever.
Perhaps I would have felt differently had I known Mark to be other than a decent man required to make crushing decisions as king. Anguish had made similar choices to keep his own kingdom together. I liked my uncle. More than that, I respected him. If Yseult had to go to a man who was not me, then Mark was a better choice than many.
Funny how the mind can reason away tragedy while the heart can never be fooled. And even then, my heart, I think, was already plotting betrayal.
CHAPTER TEN
PALOMIDES
I damned Fate and her endless trials. To have stumbled upon a woman who would soon enough be taking her mother’s crown as Queen of Ireland only to have her snatched away…
My mortal heart sang at sight of Yseult. More, she seemed amenable to my wooing. By the time dusk fell, I knew, harper or no, in time I would make her mine.
Compelled by my curse to shift at dusk, I welcomed my hound. Taking to the woods, I ran, howling my heart’s delight at the prospect of love that would lift my curse. I ran with wild abandon, choosing not to look beyond this moment, choosing not to examine too closely the trap that held me. Refusing to recognize the truth that twisted me. While I was plotting to capture Yseult’s heart, she had already captured mine.
In the hall, I sat stunned as my world turned on a marriage vow. Yseult shed my own tears of rage and frustration. How could I allow her to be taken from me now—and against her will at that?
The harper’s eyes on me as my despair deepened was a distraction, nothing more. Then Yseult and her mother swept from the room, taking my tears with them, leaving me devastated in their wake.
In the awkward silence that fell, my anger grew toward my own father for conceiving this lesson to begin with, the Lady of the Lake for her joy in carrying it through, Fate for her wicked ways, and myself for allowing my heart to take the lead. I was already building my defenses against them when Yseult’s handmaid appeared.
“My Lords.” Though she addressed both Drustan and myself, her eyes were on me alone. “Please, if you wish me to take word of any sort to Lady Yseult, I am at your service.” She took a deep breath, her stare intense, her voice lowered. “Day… or night .”
Even I, so untrained in the baser customs of men, recognized her invitation. My hound would have
“Where were you?” I demanded.
He lifted a sun-red eyebrow in response. “Marking my territory.”
I grinned at the jest and let it go.
Funny how some of the most deadly truths we only recognize in hindsight.
When Anguish announced the proposal of marriage, it hit me like a gut blow. Mark’s first queen, Gwennol, had died, childless, from a wasting illness many years ago. He had taken her from an obscure chieftain in Cornish lands to solidify the clans of Cornwall as he expanded his kingdom. After Gwennol died, Mark held himself a bachelor for an occasion such as this, appointing his heirs in lieu of any son of his own. As favorite, and by right of arms, Tintagel—and Cornwall—would be mine when Mark died.
Second in line was Baron Andret.
Even at the back of the hall I could feel Yseult’s despair, mirrored in the face of the stranger knight who sat beside me. In other circumstances, the play of emotions across Palomides’ face as the news drove the radiance from his eyes and as his features turned dark and terrible would have been merely fascinating. Here, it was chilling. He seemed to have no thought for the alliance and peace, only for the tears of the pawn in this elaborate political game.
Of course, Yseult’s tears could move any man. They tore at my soul as well. But where Palomides found only despair, I saw salvation. Perverse though it was, my heart rejoiced that Yseult would be removed to Tintagel, my home, where I could look upon her forever.
Perhaps I would have felt differently had I known Mark to be other than a decent man required to make crushing decisions as king. Anguish had made similar choices to keep his own kingdom together. I liked my uncle. More than that, I respected him. If Yseult had to go to a man who was not me, then Mark was a better choice than many.
Funny how the mind can reason away tragedy while the heart can never be fooled. And even then, my heart, I think, was already plotting betrayal.
CHAPTER TEN
PALOMIDES
I damned Fate and her endless trials. To have stumbled upon a woman who would soon enough be taking her mother’s crown as Queen of Ireland only to have her snatched away…
My mortal heart sang at sight of Yseult. More, she seemed amenable to my wooing. By the time dusk fell, I knew, harper or no, in time I would make her mine.
Compelled by my curse to shift at dusk, I welcomed my hound. Taking to the woods, I ran, howling my heart’s delight at the prospect of love that would lift my curse. I ran with wild abandon, choosing not to look beyond this moment, choosing not to examine too closely the trap that held me. Refusing to recognize the truth that twisted me. While I was plotting to capture Yseult’s heart, she had already captured mine.
In the hall, I sat stunned as my world turned on a marriage vow. Yseult shed my own tears of rage and frustration. How could I allow her to be taken from me now—and against her will at that?
The harper’s eyes on me as my despair deepened was a distraction, nothing more. Then Yseult and her mother swept from the room, taking my tears with them, leaving me devastated in their wake.
In the awkward silence that fell, my anger grew toward my own father for conceiving this lesson to begin with, the Lady of the Lake for her joy in carrying it through, Fate for her wicked ways, and myself for allowing my heart to take the lead. I was already building my defenses against them when Yseult’s handmaid appeared.
“My Lords.” Though she addressed both Drustan and myself, her eyes were on me alone. “Please, if you wish me to take word of any sort to Lady Yseult, I am at your service.” She took a deep breath, her stare intense, her voice lowered. “Day… or night .”
Even I, so untrained in the baser customs of men, recognized her invitation. My hound would have
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