I own nothing in this story that seems familar, but you know that already! Poor Holly and I wish it were otherwise.
My Betas are the best. Honestly, I don't know what I would do without them. Any mistakes within the text are completely my own.
This chapter is for Girl in The Library Corner. Your questions are answered within :)
Also, Hazelelf I'm so glad you're back!
"And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything". - William Shakespeare
Chapter 9
"What are you doing?" a familiar voice whispered very close to his ear. Tristan's senses sparked in awareness. He was crouched behind thick forest brush, his gaze riveted to where he had spotted a large stag only moments earlier. His bow was strung and at the ready, his body tense with anticipation, but Holly's interruption had made him lose his concentration for a split second.
The arrow went sailing into the murky light of the forest and he spat out a violent curse.
"Such language, knight!" Holly scolded and he heard the smile in her voice.
"Go away," he snapped, before he turned to look at her crouched next to him, mirroring his own posture. Her feet didn't touch the ground and she floated a few inches above it, making her level with him.
"Unless you can fetch that arrow, you're nothing but a distraction. Leave." Holly tisked. The sound grated on his nerves and made his eye twitch in reaction. Tristan fought the urge to slap a hand over his eye.
"Your handsome stag is now about thirty meters to the west. Your hunting companion should have him in his sights by now." Realizing that she was right, he was torn by his aggravation at her interruption and wondering if Galahad had enough stones to actually shoot the stag and not just stare at it.
"He wouldn't be thirty meters away by now if you hadn't interrupted me," he grumbled sourly as he stood stretching the muscles in his back, watching as she gave him a delicate shrug. Holly glowed with particular delight this morning and he wondered if she knew something that he didn't.
"And where would the thrill of the hunt be in that? I can't make everything easy for you, scout."
She quirked her lips in a smile. Tristan stood there, riveted by her playful expression, and for one mad moment he wanted to kiss her. He tamped down the thought almost as quickly as it had come. There was nothing good to be had from such urges. He could not act upon them and she could not receive them. It was a pointless thing to entertain.
He cleared his throat, scratched his nose, and gathered his things. A distinct whistle carried through the forest and Tristan knew Galahad had tagged the stag. He did have the stones after all, Tristan thought wryly.
"Ohh… splendid! See I told you, your hunting companion triumphs!" Holly's smile was infectious and Tristan found himself grinning along with her. He turned and motioned for her to follow. He'd come look for his lost arrow later on in the day when there was better light.
He met Galahad at their designated meeting place. The glen was open and cold this morning and the young knight looked extremely pleased by his quarry.
"You'll have to help me track him. I got him in the front flank, the arrow went deep but he still had some fight left. He took off to the east."
Tristan nodded and knew that the tracking would be the exciting part. Carrying such a large animal back to their mounts would not be. They followed the tell-tale trail of blood and deep hoof prints in the snow.
The animal hadn't made it as far as Tristan had anticipated and had eventually collapsed about 100 yards from where Galahad had first shot him.
The arrow shaft was buried deep in the stag's chest, its breathing shallow and its eyes frightened. Galahad's shot should have killed the beast cleanly but for some reason the creature stubbornly refused to die and now it was suffering. He watched as Galahad drew his hunting knife and crept closer to the deer. Holly hovered behind him and he heard her pained gasp. He turned to see her clasp a hand over her chest, her brown eyes shiny and wet. The look made Tristan set his jaw and his heart stutter.
"Do not cry. That stag will feed a large number of villagers and help keep the cook's larder full," he rationalized. Holly merely sniffed at him and shook her head.
"I know why," she said, her voice thick. "But he's in pain. Can't you see that?" Holly asked and Tristan watched as she curled her fingers into the fabric of her bodice.
The ethereal black stain appeared again over her heart and the sight of her ghostly wound disturbed Tristan more than he cared to admit.
"I'm not crying. What would make you think that?" Galahad asked defensively, looking at him as if he had just stated that the sky was purple. This brought the scout into the present instantly.
Damn it all, Tristan had addressed Holly in front of Galahad. He had forgotten for a split second that he was the only one who could see her. He would have to mind his tongue.
"Just get on with it," Tristan snapped and the young knight gave him a mystified look. Galahad quickly put the stag out of its misery, and the scout was blinded by the sight of a thin thread of light spiraling away from its body. Tristan stood rooted, watching the creature's essence leave its body and dissipate slowly into the grey morning. He had never witnessed that before, it was startling to say the least.
Would he ever get used to this strange, inconsistent power? Tristan wondered bitterly.
"He is gone," Holly whispered, her voice cracking with the hint of tears. "He didn't even hesitate, lucky animal." Her words immediately brought Tristan out of his reverie.
"Do you envy that animal?" he asked her. Holly remained silent, staring at the fallen stag, her expression blank, and for some reason that troubled him.
"What?" Galahad asked from where he was crouched over the stag. His tone was genuinely perplexed and he was looking at Tristan in a way that made him feel every inch the madman he believed himself to be.
Shaking off Holly's hold on him he turned and glared at Galahad.
"Do you want my help or not?" Tristan shot back as he bent on the opposite side of the stag. Galahad looked at Tristan, then somewhere in the general vicinity of where Holly stood.
Tristan watched as Galahad's eyes narrowed and for a startling moment he wondered if the young man sensed her. Her presence was strong today and he wouldn't have been surprised in the least if Galahad had been bothered by it.
"Ever since I was a boy, I've often thought this forest had eyes," he said quietly as they began to tie the stag's legs together to make it easier for the pair of them to carry. Tristan grunted in reply as they lifted the heavy animal.
"Is it just me, or is the fog thicker today than usual?" Galahad's tone was unmistakably conversational, but Tristan detected a hint of something probing under the surface and knew that the young knight was trying to conceal his growing awareness. Holly kept her distance and for that Tristan was extremely thankful.
Dawn was nearing and she was beginning to fade.
"It's not just you," Tristan said as they struggled to carry the heavy animal back to where they had tied the horses. They managed to get the stag into the cart they had hitched up to Galahad's dappled grey, Dervish. Skye pranced at his approach and Tristan knew that she was well aware of the ghost that followed him.
Tristan stroked her neck in soft even movements and she was instantly calmed again as she breathed warm breath against his palm. Galahad secured the stag before mounting Dervish.
He turned to look at Tristan, his throat working nervously. There was a question burning the end of his tongue and Tristan knew Galahad was hesitant to ask it. The young knight was curious, not stupid, and Tristan respected him for it. He'd known Galahad too long to know the knight was nothing if not sharp.
Galahad turned in the saddle and looked back into the clearing. Tristan followed his line of sight. Holly's outline remained in the trees. Her bright glow now dimmed. She waved at him and nodded once sharply, an almost imperceptible movement that could easily be missed.
"You weren't talking to me back there, were you?" Galahad's question came softly as the young man continued to stare into the glen as Holly slowly disappeared.
"No, I wasn't," Tristan stated simply, believing that it was best not to mince words and state the truth. Mâtar had taught him that much. Turning back to lead Skye out of the forest, Tristan watched as Galahad shook his head as if he had been in a small stupor. He blinked his eyes rapidly and Tristan could feel his gaze boring into the back of his skull.
"That's what I thought," he replied slowly. "Can… Can it follow us?" An edge of fear had crept into his voice and Tristan knew then without a doubt that Holly had shown herself to Galahad. Why though, he did not know.
"No. She is gone now." The sound of Skye's hooves crunching on the snow made his words seem oddly loud and displaced.
"Good." The relief Galahad felt was so keen that Tristan had to suppress a smile. He let the young knight overtake him, and ride ahead at a pace that was probably not entirely safe with the cart attached to Dervish, but Tristan doubted that anything serious would happen on the way back to the fort.
He took the time to admire the landscape along the way and the distinct beauty of the snow-covered hills that surrounded Camelot. He was puzzled by the fact that Holly had appeared to Galahad and he knew he would have to confront her about it later.
The thought of questioning Holly for more information did not ease him, for he knew that Gawain, Lancelot and Arthur were now awaiting the arrival of some very important travelers today.
A feast had been planned in honor of their arrival. Tristan's blood boiled at the thought of having to share a table with a murderer. He had vowed to keep this from Holly as long as it was possible. He did not want her to know that Thaddeus was returning. Tristan had only guessed that it would be a matter of time before Thaddeus' conscious grew lax and he felt safe enough to return to claim the land he had forsaken.
He had witnessed stupid men fall before and this one would be no different. No, indeed, he would see to it himself. Slowly, painfully, he would meet out the retribution that was so deeply deserved and Holly would be none the wiser.
Tristan only hoped that Thaddeus was not foolish enough to bring his daughter with him.
Enid realized with startling alacrity that rolling landscapes of Brittan were designed to torture travelers. This harsh country was bitter, cold, wet, and unforgiving. She had surmised as much since she had arrived on British soil not two weeks before. Enid wondered for the thousandth time why she had begged her father to take her here.
With every rotation of the carriage's wheels, her stomach roiled and threatened to toss up her meager breakfast. She pressed her head back against the seat and breathed sharply through her nose, willing her stomach to settle, while flinching as she was jostled roughly against Flora when the wagon hit a rather deep hole in the roadway.
Her maid startled awake and blinked rapidly, gazing at her dazedly for a moment. Enid envied the ease at which Flora could doze in a rocking carriage and not be besieged by an almost paralyzing nausea. It was quite unfair.
Enid would have given anything to be able to drift off, but her rioting nerves wouldn't let her. Flora mumbled an apology and Enid gave her a limp flick of her wrist, her concentration on the motion of the carriage and the bile she could feel rising slowly in her throat.
"My lady, you're pale. Are you unwell?" Flora's concern was too little too late. There was nothing for it. She was going to be ill.
"Stop the carriage!" she shouted. Her order came out sounding more like a croaking plea. She grabbed her father's walking cane, which had been resting against the seat and banged on the ceiling twice to get the drivers attention. Her father awoke at the noise. Enid felt a stab of guilt for waking him thus, for he desperately needed his rest. He got too little as it was.
Her father, sitting opposite her in the carriage, brushed the sleep from his bleary eyes. He regarded her with a mild look of concern, a small smile quirking his thin mouth. Enid was chagrined that he should find amusement in the situation but was too preoccupied by not losing her breakfast on her traveling clothes to care.
The carriage, and the luggage wagon following behind, came to a grinding halt. Enid gasped her relief before she opened the carriage door and jumped out as if her skirts were aflame.
She could hear her father calling for her but she paid him no heed. Enid heard footfalls crunching behind her, She waved Flora away as she bent over and retched.
Humiliated that she had not more self-control, she gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. She abhorred riding in carriages in Rome, but these British country roads were a special kind of hell.
The dull grey light of morning and the glaring whiteness of the freshly fallen snow made her realize she was a long way from home. This was my idea, she reminded herself.
A bitter wind whipped at her cloak and she pulled it tighter around her body. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and turned around. She gave Flora a shaky smile, "I'm fine. Really. Just give me a moment to collect myself. Join my father back inside; you must be freezing." Her maid nodded and gratefully climbed back into the carriage.
The driver stared at her over his shoulder and she glared right back at him. Had he never witnessed travel sickness before? Wretched man, she thought as she slowly walked her way back to the carriage.
Enid could not stand the thought of getting back in that rocking hellbox on wheels. The horses were getting restless and she could hear the jingling of the horse tack; she focused on that for a moment, trying to mentally prepare herself to climb back into the carriage.
"Enid, do not just stand there. Get in here now." Her father's tone was harsh.
She gave him a bright smile, "Father, if it is all right with you, I should like to walk the rest of the way to Hadrian's Fort." She heard him grunt and knew he was, with some difficulty, pushing himself forward on the carriage seat.
"No. We have no man to spare you a companion, unless your sniveling maid should like to accompany you." She thought she might have heard Flora squeak in indignation at the slight.
"Though I doubt she would be a great deal of good use to you if you should happen to come upon some of the savage natives."
The Picts. She looked around her and saw nothing but snow, barren trees, thick firs, and rolling hills for miles. Perhaps she imagined menacing eyes peering at her from the edge of the forest. Perhaps not.
Enid had no need to remind herself of the tales she had heard before she had embarked on this journey. Her father had been most informative of exactly what horrible things could happen to them should they stray off their path.
"Father, I can not ride in this carriage. You know this. Why did you not request a horse for me as I had asked when we left the inn?" The night before, she had made it plain with the tavern owner that she would wish to have a horse to ride and had paid the man handsomely for her request.
Much to her surprise and ire, the following morning her father had canceled those plans without consulting her. She did not get her coin back.
"This is not to be borne, Enid. It is not fit for a lady to arrive on horseback, and it most certainly is not fit to have her arrive on foot. You will get in this carriage now. You are delaying our journey." He thumped his cane on the floor to signify his point.
"I beg of you, Father, please let me walk. I will stay close to the carriage, you have my word."
"And you have mine that I will hear no more of this." He leaned in as close as he could get to her and narrowed his eyes, a look that had always instilled fear into her since she was a child. "Get in."
Enid took a great breath and knew she could not argue with her father any longer. She not only had the attention of the wretched carriage driver, but now both teams of horses were snorting wildly and the driver of the luggage wagon waved her on frantically.
He obviously wanted her to get in as well. Three against one. Not good odds.
Enid reluctantly climbed back in and settled herself as well as she could. She could do this. She could ride in a carriage like a normal person and not get sick.
She repeated this to herself every time they hit a rough spot in the road.
She repeated this to herself when they went up hills and then down.
She repeated this to herself as they finally arrived at Hadrian's Fort and she silently willed the guards to pull open the gates with haste.
"Be still, Enid," her father scolded and she immediately stopped fidgeting with the laces on her cloak. She moved the hide away from the window and saw a small party of men awaiting them at the gate.
The carriage came to a blessed, if jerking, stop and she sent a silent, thankful prayer to God that she had not retched again. Her stomach rumbled and rolled and she forced herself to ignore it.
The carriage door was opened and the driver was there to assist her father disembark. Enid followed, Flora close behind her. As soon as her feet touched solid ground she knew she was going to lose her battle of wills. Her stomach was not going to cooperate no matter how much she wanted it to.
Three men stood to greet them: two had very dark hair and wore garb that placed them in the same social standing, and the other was a hulking blonde who glowered at their small, travel-weary party through thick masses of hair. His gaze shifted to and fro as if he would rather be anywhere but where he was at present.
"Ah, my good lord Thaddeus, welcome! Your journey was well, I presume?" The taller of the dark-haired men exclaimed as he stretched a hand outward in greeting. Her father took the man's hand and shook it before bowed over their clasped hands.
"Your majesty, thank you for your gracious welcome. We have arrived unharmed and that is all we can ask of God." Enid caught the pointed look he gave her and managed to slide her impassive gaze somewhere just over the blond brute's shoulder. "Let me present my daughter, Lady Enid." Her father motioned her forward and she curtsied, automatically bowing her head.
A wave of nausea struck her again and she pressed a palm over her abdomen praying that her stomach would settle. The king turned to her and she pasted on a wobbly smile.
"Welcome to Camelot, my lady. We are most pleased to receive you. I have been very interested to make your acquaintance since I have received your missives so many months ago." There was nothing but sincerity in his voice, and Enid noted that though he was a handsome man, he did not put on airs to impress, and she was most thankful for that.
The king nodded his welcome and turned to the two other men who were with him.
"Let me present two of my Knights. Lancelot, my second-in-command." The other dark-haired man stepped forward. He was an incredibly handsome man with curly hair and he immediately caught her curious gaze. The knight gave them a sharp nod, his dark eyes glinting in the grey morning light, and Enid wondered why he was here to welcome them. His expression was sour and for some reason, Enid suspected he was not as enthusiastic about their arrival as his majesty was. The king then turned to the other man with them and he stepped forward.
"This is Gawain, one of my most trusted knights." Enid curtsied again and instantly regretted the movement. She reacted on instinct and clapped a hand over her mouth. The king turned his perceptive eyes toward her and cocked his head in alarm.
"Are you unwell, my lady?" There was nothing but curious concern in his voice. Her father turned to her swiftly.
"Enid," he hissed under his breath, "do not embarrass me in front of our host."
"I… I…" But she could not get the words out for fear that she would be ill. Thaddeus' eyes went cold instantly.
"My daughter has a delicate constitution and is not used to riding in carriages. She will be fine. Do not fret, Your Highness." Enid only whished her father's words held credence.
She was going to be sick and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Oh heaven help her. The blond knight looked at her curiously and stepped forward. His expression was no longer bored, no, indeed he almost looked amused.
"Forgive me, my lord, but she looks as if she is about to lose her breakfast here and now. I would like to escort her to he healer, if I may, so she does not further cause you distress." Enid turned her startled gaze toward the knight Gawain. Was the man serious?
"I agree, Gawain. Take her to see Dagonet-she looks very unwell," Arthur replied, a friendly, cautious smile on his face.
She didn't have time to object. The large blond knight named Gawain grabbed for her upper arm. Enid swerved to his right, covering her mouth. No, it was not this time for this! Control yourself! She dimly heard her father protest at the improper manhandling of his daughter, but Enid didn't care.
It was either suffer this minor dishonor or be sick in front of the king. She would rather be dragged about like some fool than lose her breakfast again. Damn carriages, they should all be burned! She thought, and some part of her rational mind knew she was being absolutely ridiculous.
She blindly let Gawain lead her away from the gates, though she had a difficult time keeping up with his long-legged stride. Using short quick steps just to keep up, she was practically running through the hustle and bustle of the village. They narrowly avoided wagons and livestock and women with baskets balanced on their heads and babes latched to their hips.
The speed at which they walked and the quick motions of avoiding injury as they went made her stomach roil violently. Finally, just when she thought she was going to completely humiliate herself again, Gawain turned a sharp corner and looked at her.
"I apologize, my lady," he said, his voice low as his extremely blue eyes gleamed, and Enid thought she spied humor in them. Was the man laughing at her? He shoved a thick wooden door open and assisted her inside. A small woman with short dark hair jumped up from her post by the twin hearths when they entered.
"Reagan, come quickly, Lady Enid is not well," Gawain said with haste. The woman hurried over to them and helped Enid sit on a narrow bed. Enid tried to wave them away, fresh tears of shame starting to cloud her vision. She couldn't speak for fear she'd be ill again. She only wished to be left alone and idly wondered where Flora had gone when she needed her now more than ever. She had probably gotten turned around while following them here.
The thought of her maid alone and unchaperoned in this place made panic flutter within her breast, which was then automatically over ruled by another wave of nausea.
"Stop hovering, my lord, I'm sure that the lady is just exhausted from her journey." Enid watched through watery eyes as Reagan gave her a sympathetic smile and pushed Sir Gawain away from her bedside. The large knight stood there looking confused for a moment, then he mumbled something that Enid thought didn't sound very kind.
Reagan paid him no mind and turned with such speed that Enid was forced to blink. Before she had a chance to utter a single word, an earthenware bowl was placed in her lap and clean drying linens were placed on the small worn table at her bedside.
"Please, Gawain, leave," Reagan said and gave the knight a meaningful look. Sir Gawain nodded sharply as comprehension dawned across his face, gave Enid a great bow, and mumbled that he would return to check on her and fetch her to her rooms if she so desired, then turned on his heel and lumbered away.
The relief she felt at his departure was staggering. Reagan, she noticed, tiptoed away and turned the corner into a smaller room attached. Enid was left in blessed solitude.
Enid made use of the bowl much to her dismay. Her stomach had already been emptied once and the nausea now hit her in rolling waves. She moaned quietly, used one if the drying linens to wipe at her mouth, and then set the bowl on the floor. She sank weakly onto the cot, shame and relief filling her with conflicting emotions. Her father would be furious with her.
There was no doubt of that, though he had no one to blame but himself for her condition. That was unfair, Enid thought, she had climbed back into the carriage of her own free will and it wasn't father's fault that she had a weak stomach.
She lay there, staring up at the high ceiling with its rough wooden rafters and planked roof, listening to the fire crackle in the twin hearths at the end of the room. This was a cozy place, she thought, even if it was an apparent infirmary. She closed her eyes and once again thought of her house.
The entire reason she was here in the first place. The fantasy of land belonging solely to her was a dream come true and she knew in her heart that she would ride in a hundred carriages again just to be near it. It was hers, and no one could take it from her. Enid's thoughts drifted as calm finally settled in her belly.
There was the rumble of quiet voices in the other room. She could only pick up bits and pieces of the conversation, but Reagan was not alone in the infirmary, as she had first thought.
Enid sat up and turned toward the door. Almost at once an enormous man came into the main room.
The sound of his quiet footsteps was uncanny. The first thing she noticed about him was that his hair was shaved close to his scalp and his skin gleamed in the firelight. His clothes were well kept and clean, and he walked with a grace that belied his size. It was his countenance that was most striking. It was both fierce and kind in the same turn and he wore an expression of open acceptance that told her she need not fear him.
Enid could only stare up at him when he turned toward her. For a second she realized she was holding her breath, and exhaled loudly.
If she thought Sir Gawain hulking, then this man was an absolute giant. An extraordinarily handsome giant, she conceded, and one with very sad eyes.
He took in the bowl she had placed on the floor. In an attempt to be modest she had covered it with one of the cloths, though she was positive he had heard her retching. Enid's face colored at the thought.
"Are you still unwell, my lady?" His voice was deep and quiet and filled with concern. Enid could only blink up at him in surprise.
"Who...Who are you?" Her voice was breathy and she was suddenly ashamed at the rudeness of the question. A lady was never blunt.
He merely gave her a faint smile, then bowed. "Forgive me, I am so used to tending to the locals that I forgot you just arrived today. I am Sir Dagonet, one of the king's knights and a healer. I was told that you were suffering from traveling sickness. Is this true?" Enid nodded as she watched him come closer to her.
Once again she felt herself holding her breath as Dagonet bent toward her. He met her gaze squarely and she noticed that his eyes were dark with flecks of gold in them. Beautiful eyes, she thought and then caught herself.
What in god's name was she thinking?
He placed one of his hands; large and calloused on the side of her face. He expertly turned her head to the right in the simplest of movements. Enid was too stunned to protest. His skin was amazingly warm and his touch gentle.
"Your eyes are strained. This is not the first time you were ill this morning." It was more a statement then a question and Enid shook her head, afraid to speak. He was too close to her and she feared her breath was horrible.
"I have the tonic you requested, my lord." Dagonet turned away from her and Enid watched as he reached for the mug Reagan held out toward him. She peeked around Dagonet's shoulder and offered Enid a bright smile, which instantly transformed her features from plain to stunning. Reagan, Enid admitted, was a pretty thing and Enid wondered what a she was doing working in an infirmary.
"That tonic will make you feel right as rain, you'll see, my lady. Dagonet had me make it especially." Dagonet smiled as he passed over the drink. Enid placed her hands around the warm mug and gave them both a grateful smile. She took one sip as the fresh-tasting liquid coursed down her scratchy throat, and the infirmary doors opened again. Sir Gawain had returned, this time with a harassed-looking Flora trailing behind him.
Her maid glared daggers at the blond man before her expression changed to one of great concern as she hurried over to Enid's side.
"I fetched your maid, Lady Enid," Gawain announced loudly as Flora skirted around him quickly, annoyance creasing the skin of her brow.
"Oh, my lady, forgive me. I… I lost sight of you and that man was walking too fast for me to properly keep up! Are you still unwell?" Flora tossed one more look of loathing over her shoulder at Gawain to which he raised a tawny eyebrow and Enid immediately wondered what had transpired between them to cause such a reaction in her usually docile maid. Enid gave her a small smile and stood.
"No, Flora. I am quite well. I was just given a tonic that I do believe has done wonders." She passed the mug back to the healer and was startled when their fingertips brushed. Their eyes met yet again and he gave her a nod; she offered him a genuine smile and curtsied as was proper.
"Thank you, Sir Dagonet, for your help, I am feeling much better. I am sure my father is inquiring after me." She gave a nod to Reagan as well and the girl curtsied in reply.
"Your father has already been settled into his quarters," Gawain stated rather quickly, and Flora shot her a rueful look. Naturally, her father would see to his comforts first and send Sir Gawain, a man he had just met, in his stead. Naturally.
"I'm sure we shall see you tonight, Lady Enid," Reagan said her eyes sparkling; her manner was earnest and genuine. "For there has been a feast planned in honor of your arrival. The king was quite insistent upon it, much to my husband's regret. I am of the opposite opinion and I have myself been looking forward to it very much."
"Your husband?" Enid asked her gaze darting between the petite Reagan and the rather large and very attractive Sir Dagonet. Reagan caught her look and smiled innocently.
"Yes. I believe you met my husband already. I do hope that Lancelot was welcoming, he was in a rather foul mood this morning." Enid didn't reply, as she thought back to the sour-faced knight she'd met only moments ago, she only smiled kindly and wondered if she would be able to attend tonight's feast given her rumbling stomach.
"I shall be glad to see you tonight Lady Reagan. I had not planned on being introduced to you in such a way, but perhaps being ill when I arrived has had its benefits." Reagan laughed and Enid knew that she would be an easy woman to get to know.
"No indeed. However, now not only have you met Sir Gawain, but Dagonet as well. You are a very fortunate woman. It usually takes a while to get these two to even speak to a lady." Enid smiled and appreciated the easy way at which Lady Reagan added humor and a twist of practicality to an otherwise humiliating moment, and then she had a sudden thought.
She need not worry about her stomach tonight: if the big knight was going to be in attendance she knew she would be too distracted to eat anything anyway. As if sensing her thoughts the healer turned away from her gaze, his ears turning pink.
Enid let Reagan escort both her and Flora to the door, Gawain trailing behind them with specific instructions from Arthur to take the lady and her maid to the rooms awaiting them. Gawain, with mirth dancing in his eyes, took this chance to torment Flora a little longer. Enid suspected that Flora was very disturbed by the attention. Her maid's demeanor was nothing short of ruffled and it made Enid smile to see the normally benign woman flustered.
Enid turned to say her goodbyes and found herself flustered yet again as Dagonet's gaze met her own squarely. Enid felt her own face turn pink and she almost embarrassed herself yet again by walking directly into the still-closed door. Mortified now beyond measure, Enid only wished for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Couldn't any other morning go so horribly wrong?
She blindly followed Gawain and Flora, listening to the knight grumble at the slow pace of her maid's stride and Flora's answering sniff of distain at the knight's rudeness. She smiled and wondered if she could talk Flora into attending the feast with her; the antics between the blond knight and her maid would make for a spectacular distraction. A distraction Enid knew that was desperately needed.
God help her if her father knew how she had behaved in the healing rooms. It was something that she would never live down.
Thankfully her father would never know. Enid pushed all thoughts of the tall knight with sad eyes from her mind and instead focused on her reason for being here in the first place. There was a villa awaiting her and the opportunity for a new life that she had so desperately wanted. She looked up at the grey sky with its slowly falling snow and smiled.
This was home now.
This was where she belonged and she knew she had finally arrived.
AN: I can't wait to have more fun with Enid and Dagonet! I suspect that they are probably cringing at what I have in store for them.
Chapter 10: Holly has a very scary, but interesting run-in with Mab (really Merlin's Phox I don't think you want to be a crazy crone when you get older- Mab is one pretty scary lady) and Tristan does not make a very good impression on Arthur's guests. Glaring at them stonily does not put them at ease. Trust me.
Until then, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Again thank you to everyone who reviewed/read/alerted! You all make my day when I see my inbox filling up!
Happy Reading!
~S