The Heart of a Queen (A Historical Romance)

Chapter 18

News of Llewellyn's return came by way of a tired messenger who had ridden all night to deliver the message in time for the castle staff to prepare for their master's homecoming. The campaign had been successful; they had managed to fight off the English. The message was bare of detail but the man had nothing more to add.

Brienna's attention was immediately arrested; she hadn't heard a word about Connaught since Llewellyn had left, taking Ulf and the rest of his men with him. For the rest of that day and the one after, she took up a post looking out her tower window, until they saw the movement of men and horses coming over the distant hills that signalled Llewellyn's return.

Brienna's nerves about seeing him were tied up with something other than just how the fight against the English had gone. She hadn't spoken of it with Isobel, but Brienna had decided to try out her newly acquired skills of seduction on the king. It was brash, and she would probably end up making a fool of herself, but she was wed to the idea the same way an arrow is wed to its path as soon as it leaves the bow. Once the thought was sprung, she couldn't turn back.

While the rest of the castle bustled around preparing for its master's return, Brienna did her own version of getting ready. She hadn't particularly liked wearing all of Isobel's finery, deciding that she looked well enough on her own, undecorated.

She brushed her hair with lavender oil and braided it in a long shining coil on one side of her head. She took out a dress that she'd been saving for summer, made of the finest indigo linen that was light as air, and belted it around her waste so that it molded to her body, showing off her form. She considered coloring her cheeks, but decided she didn't need to after checking her countenance; the excitement of seeing Llewellyn again was enough to make her color very high.

She waited a quarter of an hour before going to find him in the war room—that was as long as she could wait to let him get settled. When she went in, she found him bent over the map on the table, staring at it as if trying to decipher a code. She was surprised he didn't look more cheerful, having routed the English as the messenger said; but she attributed his grim demeanor to him being tired from the long journey home.

"Welcome back," she began. "I heard you routed the English, and I wanted to thank you once more for joining my father in this fight."

"Yes," Llewellyn said, still staring at the space between his hands on the table.

He wasn't even looking at her. What was she supposed to do if he wouldn't meet her eye? Isobel had spent what felt like ages going on about the importance of eye contact.

Brienna hunted around for a solution, then spied that one of the carved figures on the map was right on the edge of the table. A plan unveiled itself to her; if she could knock the piece to the floor, Llewellyn would jump to pick it up for her, and stand to find them face to face, their bodies pressing close, his stormy-sky eyes looking down into her own...

She sidled up to her target, and let her hip casually graze the edge of the table.

Her movement caused more of a stir than she'd wanted. The map shifted, causing every figurine to tumble over sideways like drunken soldiers after a feast. Llewellyn lifted his hands so he could save a line of them from scattering over the edge, and the one piece that Brienna had been aiming for did fall, but bounced when it landed and scattered across the floor.

"I'm sorry," she apologized for her clumsiness, embarrassed, and ran after the pice she'd sent flying. She carefully set it back on the map, then tried to replace the other fallen pieces to the positions they'd been in.

When she was done, not sure if she'd managed to put everything back where it belonged, she raised her head to find that Llewellyn was finally looking at her.

"You're very changed since you first came here," he remarked. "I suppose I'm only noticing it now, having been absent."

He was frowning, and Brienna's heart plummeted as if it was tripping down the cold hard stairs of the castle.

"Does the change not please you?" she asked.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, brow raised.

"You look..." she didn't finish. It was ill-mannered to tell a king that he looked anything but regal.

In any case, Llewellyn understood her, and sighed as if recalling himself to an unhappy task.

"Come here," he said, beckoning her forward. She stood in front of him so she was looking up into his face. "It was a dreadful fight. The men of Connaught fought bravely," Llewellyn said, brokenly, as if unsure how to relay the news. "Your home is safe, for now. Your father was injured."

Brienna was so elated to hear that her home was safe that she almost missed his last sentence. Then she heard them fully as if in an echo.

"My father? Is it grave? Will he be alright?"

Llewellyn drew back as if her questions hurt him.

"It was... not looking well when I left him."

Brienna sank to her knees, tears overspilling her eyes. Her lungs rattled with the force of the sobs that overcame her. She was still looking at Llewellyn as if he could change the terrible thing he'd just told her and he, in turn, stared at her helplessly.

Finally, he reached out and lifted her under the arms, placing her on his lap so he could wrap his arms around her as she cried. When her tears had exhausted themselves, she slumped against him, relishing the feeling of being held, the fleeting security of his embrace, which she knew would leave her as soon as she got up.

Llewellyn stood, taking her with him and placing her back on her feet and holding her steady.

"Your brother follows me," he told her, his voice soft. "He should be here in a few more days, and will be able to give you more recent news on your father's health."

Brienna nodded, slightly comforted by this. It had been so long since she saw Ruarc. The thought of him brought all of her homesicknesses rushing back up. Llewellyn let his arms drop and allowed her to stand on her own power.

"And I understand the prince of Leinster accompanies him," he added, studying her. "Your betrothed. So let that bring you comfort." Then he unclasped his belt and flung it to the floor, his sword crashing against the wood with a loud bang.

Brienna bit her lip, and quickly left the room before her tears could start again.