Read Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] for Free Online

very charming, the oldest one in particular. Blaidd is his name. He told me it means wolf in Welsh, but he may only have been teasing me. Those eyes he has, so merry and yet—”
    A loud knock sounded on the door, making both the women jump.
    Maybe Piers was hurt and this was a summons to the tournament field!
    Anne rushed to the door and threw it open to finda male servant with iron-gray hair and wearing a rust-colored woolen tunic standing on the threshold. “Yes?” she demanded breathlessly.
    “My lady, you are to come with me, if you please.”
    “Why?”
    He blinked. “I have no idea, my lady. The king tells me to bring you to the hall, so I bring you to the hall.”
    “It’s not my brother?”
    The man was too well trained to show much of his confusion. “No, my lady.”
    Lisette tugged at the back of her gown. “The king! The hall! Oh, la, my lady, we must finish your toilette! ”
    The man frowned a little as Anne let herself be pulled back to the dressing table.
    “King Henry said at once, ” he noted.
    “ Mon Dieu, she cannot go with her hair in the nest of a rat!” Lisette exclaimed, grabbing the silken scarf that matched the green of Anne’s gown.
    Anne rose. “I should not keep the king waiting. Never mind the scarf, Lisette.”
    Lisette stared at Anne as if she had decided to approach the king wearing filthy, soiled rags, then began to urge her mistress to adjust her sleeves, wear the scarf and pinch her cheeks to give them color for she was too pale by far.
    Her stomach a knot of dread, Anne ignored her maid’s exclamations. She had no desire to emphasizeher cursed beauty and she truly believed it would be folly to keep the king waiting.
    As for what Henry wanted, that wasn’t so hard to guess: he must have heard about what had happened with Sir Reece.
    If only her brutal half brothers had let Sir Reece go with a warning! If only she had fled the moment Sir Reece spoke to her. If only he had stayed behind in the hall.
    She told herself it would have been worse if the servant had brought the message she had feared—that Piers was hurt. Nevertheless, she couldn’t calm the nervous flutter in her stomach, or quell her dread as the servant led her down the stairs and out into the courtyard.
    It looked like rain, she vaguely noted, the scent fresh upon the wind and blessedly welcome after the stuffier confines of her chamber. A breeze tugged at her gown as if urging her to stay where she was.
    A nice notion, and she would have preferred that course of action, but as the king summoned, so she must obey.
    Soon enough they were at the entrance to the hall. The servant shoved open the ornately carved oaken doors and gestured for her to go in.
    She hesitated on the threshold as the sound of hushed voices, some curious, some censorious, many wondering, washed over her like waves of water. The torches had been kindled, although it was still day, to light the hall that otherwise would be as dim as acathedral. They enabled her to see the assembled crowd, which parted like the Red Sea before Moses when they realized she was there. The whole court was assembled and waiting, save for the squires who must still be on the field.
    Every feeling in her heart urged her to flee, save one—pride. Pride demanded that she accept her half brothers’ taunts and punishments with silent endurance. Pride told her she must never do anything to shame Piers, or herself. Pride ordered her to act as if nothing at all were amiss and she was summoned into the king’s presence every day.
    Mustering all the dignity she could, yet with her face burning because of the lie Damon had told and expected her to repeat, she began to walk forward. A smile of relief and joy leapt to her lips when she saw Sir Reece, until she saw the terrible bruise on his cheek and his bloodred eye and felt his searching scrutiny. Had he heard Damon’s version of events? Did he believe she was a willing participant in the lies Damon had told? She wished