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«Is the arrowhead embedded?» he asked, returning his gaze to Alyce. «Will it have to be cut out?»
She shook her head slightly. «I think not, my lord — or, only a little, perhaps. It mostly went through — though I fear that your saddle is ruined. And your horse is in a very ill temper — though he is only slightly injured».
He chuckled bleakly at that, smiling faintly as he looked back at her. His eyes were the same shade of sandy steel-gray as his hair, though with a hint of sea-blue in their depths. Though his face was weathered and ta
«He isn't a very good horse anyway», Ke
He was talking, she knew, to take his mind from his injury. In fact, Sir Ke
Alyce smiled and nodded knowingly. «I was aware of the incident, my lord. The queen was convinced you were both going down. They should spread more straw on the cobbles when it's frosty».
«A sensible horse wouldn't act up like that on slick cobbles», Ke
He fell silent at that, tensing as he shifted in the hay, trying to find a more comfortable position. Alyce checked his wound, but he did not seem to be bleeding — though he would, when the arrow was drawn. When he grimaced and closed his eyes, obviously concentrating on trying to ease his pain, she considered nudging him back into sleep; but there were too many eyes upon them.
They rattled into the forecourt of Rhemuth Castle just as the shadows were lengthening. The king's physician and Duke Richard's battle-surgeon were waiting as they carried Sir Ke
Though Ke
If the surgeon noticed how quickly the draught worked, he said nothing, only bending to his work of cleaning and bandaging the wound, backing off then to wash his hands as the queen laid a hand on the sleeping man's forehead.
«The test will be whether a fever develops», she said, shifting then to help Alyce and Zoë pull the blankets up to cover him. «It appears we should have given him more drink, and sooner. It would have spared him some discomfort. We'll let him sleep now», she said to the room at large. «Alyce, I know you and Zoë will wish to sit with him and keep him comfortable. I'll send someone to relieve you in a few hours».
The guarded look that passed between her and Alyce made it clear what she meant, having experienced the ease of Deryni powers during childbirth and other times of discomfort — though usually from Jessamy. The church did not approve, of course, but it was a perquisite of royalty to ignore certain of the laws that governed ordinary folk, though discretion was always essential, even for a queen.
Still, the wife of the king and the mother of future kings could be forgiven certain lapses, so long as they did not occur too often or too flagrantly; and none could dispute that Sir Ke
«I'll send Jessamy to you a little later. Be careful», the queen whispered to Alyce, briefly hugging her and Zoë around the shoulders before herself departing, along with the physician.
The care they had taken in dealing with Sir Ke
He also read a great deal, and was read to, sometimes by his daughter, but more often by Alyce. With the latter, it was usually histories borrowed from the king's library — and sometimes, correspondence sent by the king for his review. But occasionally, she found copies of popular ballads and poetry lying on the cabinet beside his chair. He colored when he saw that she had noticed.
In truth, the convalescent was finding himself most agreeably distracted by the gentle attentions of the queen's ladies, and entertaining such thoughts as had not crossed his mind since the death of his wife, several years before.
Oh, there had been the occasional flirtation with tavern maids and farmers' daughters when he was in the field, and gentle dalliance with certain ladies of his sisters' households when he went home to the ancestral estates of Morganhall to visit his younger daughters, who were being raised by their aunts. But largely, he had thrown himself into his military career, with increasing service to the king himself, growing mostly resigned to the likelihood that he would live out his life as a widower. He was but a simple knight, albeit a trusted servant of the king. What could he offer a woman? — he, whose meager income from the Morgan estates must go to support the children of his youth.
Yet now he was surprised to find himself thinking decidedly domestic thoughts, little though there was any practicality to such thinking. He had not the wherewithal to support a wife and possibly a second family. Even so, the idea began to surface more and more often during those weeks of convalescence, daily in the company of the beautiful and accomplished ladies of the queen's household, and of one young lady, in particular.
Alyce de Corwyn… heiress to one of the richest duchies in all the Eleven Kingdoms. She was so far above him as to be the embodiment of a fantasy he could hardly even conceive, at least in this life. When first they had met at Arc-en-Ciel, he had esteemed her as his daughter's friend, almost as another daughter of his own. Now, as their association shifted into adult friendship, he decided that he had not been far off the mark when he had compared her to an angel, during that long, pain-filled journey back to the castle after his injury.