“The evening meal had passed and gone without attendance from her or the high king. The time had instead been spent in close council with Lynet Carnbrea over how things stood in Cambryn. So much said, so much left unsaid. Guinevere sat down in front of the fire while her ladies bustled around her. This was a room of warmth and comfort, furnished both to aid her repose and to show the wealth of her rank. But tonight she might have been a beggar in the meanest hovel for all the ease it gave her. E...very word Lynet spoke had seemed an accusation to Guinevere, a condemnation of the careful and patient plans she had helped to lay. Patience cost, never as much as rash action, but as Lynet had testified, the price could still be terribly high. Lady Fiona, a young matron with chestnut hair and a milkmaid’s fair skin came around her chair and knelt. “You are exhausted, Majesty. You should come to bed.” Guinevere smiled a little. “No, Fiona. Leave me be. I will sit up awhile yet.” “As you will, Majesty.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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