Page 9 of Pippa of Lauramore
Galinor closes his eyes and lets the words soak in. It’s a great honor to receive the two extra points a princess may give to her chosen, and it has made the difference in dozens of close tournaments.
Winning means prestige, honor…and me.
The evening is going sowell, I don’t check to see if the mouth of the cave is surrounded when we step out. It’s too bad, too. I scream as hands pull me away from Galinor. I’m so startled I think my heart is going to come out of my chest.
It only takes me a moment to realize these men are knights, and they are in Lauramore’s gold and sapphire.
And there’s Father.
Indignant, I shake away the hands. Once free, I take a deep, ragged breath.
Galinor is not faring as well as I am—there are five blades pointed at his chest. His face is void of expression. He makes no excuses or pleas but waits for his punishment in silence.
I wish I could reassure him that Father is quick to temper but fair in judgment, but that would only bring more wrath on us both, so I stay quiet.
“Pippa,” my father says, and there’s so much frustration and anger in his voice that I shrink back a little. “Let me see the ring.”
“Father!” I exclaim, thoroughly mortified. The look on his face is nothing less than terrifying, but this is too much. In front of all the knights? How could he?
“You will show me the ring.” His voice is like thunder.
I hold out my hand, looking over his shoulder at the forest beyond. From the corner of my eye, I see most of the knights look away, not wishing to witness my humiliation.
Father inspects the enchanted purity ring—which is still a perfect, unblemished, shining gold.
“Fine.” He drops my hand. He’s still furious, but theanger has lessened. He signals to his knights, and they drop their swords. Father turns his attention from me. “Prince Galinor, whose fault is it that we find you here?”
Galinor swallows but looks otherwise composed. He stands tall. “Mine, Your Majesty.”
My father narrows his eyes. “Are you saying it was your idea to traipse through the woods to a cave you’ve never seen in your life?”
A few of the knights snicker, but they snap their jaws shut when Father sets his steely gaze on them.
“No, King Ewan,” Galinor says. “But I showed poor judgment, and that is entirely my fault. I could have prevented the outing had I tried harder.”
“I doubt that.”
There are more snickers and another steely-eyed gaze.
Father crosses his arms over his chest. “Let this be a lesson for the future, young Galinor. I hope you will use better judgment in the tournament.”
I sigh, relieved. Galinor may still compete.
“As for you,” Father says, turning back to me. His voice doesn’t sound as forgiving as it did a moment ago.
I have no idea why.
What will it be this time? Twenty written pages? A day assisting Yuven, the herbalist? Oh, I hope he doesn’t let Anna decide my fate.
“You will go to your quarters.”
Go to my quarters? That’s all? I want to laugh out loud and spin in circles and dance, for this punishment is the best I’ve received yet.
“For twelve days.”
My gasp is chorused with sixteen others—fifteen knights and one very shocked prince.
“I can’t miss my own tournament!” I exclaim, overstepping my boundaries by a lot.
