Page 95 of Pippa of Lauramore
“With no proof!” My voice is too loud, and I notice several people glance our way, including Father. I lower my head and say in a quieter tone, “How can that be?”
Marigold leans in, glancing around to see if anyone will overhear—cautious as always.
Leonora shakes her head. “There would have to be another witness before Archer would be hanged.”
Lord Rigel.
Even though I’ve barely touched my breakfast, I think I might be sick.
Marigold scowls. “We would never?—”
Leonora interrupts, “Not ever.”
“Rigel knows.” My chest constricts as I see their faces fall. “He saw us together in the armory.”
“Perhaps it was a bluff,” Leonora says, her voice uncertain. “Lionel might not say anything.”
I shake my head, knowing it was anything but a bluff. I promised Archer I wouldn’t give Lionel those two points, but how can I keep that promise knowing Father is helpless to stop him?
But I gave my word.
Marigold sets her hand on mine. “It will work out somehow.”
I nod, but I don’t see how it will.
A competitor’s aunt comes to our table, and Marigold and Leonora transfer their attention to her. The woman offers Leonora warm congratulations, saying she believes the child will be a boy.
I’m thankful I don’t have to add much to the conversation other than a few feeble smiles and nods.
I choke down a little breakfast and escape the hall as quickly as I can. Before I go to the arena, I want to look for Archer in the armory, though I doubt he’ll be there. He’s probably at the tents with either Percival and Alexander or Galinor.
I pull my hood over my hair as I step into the drizzle. For a summer day, it’s cold. There are very few villagers loitering in the courtyard, and even the sheep and chickens have disappeared into their little enclosures. Like every day, guards are posted. Water runs down their helmets and mail, but they stand as if impervious to the weather.
I wave as I pass one, and he gives me a small smile.
The armory is quiet, and when I find it empty, I try the stables. The visiting horses are gone, already awaiting their turn in the joust, and it seems quiet in here without the extras.
Willowisp whinnies when she sees me, and I go to her. Her nose is warm in my palm, and I stay here for several moments, stroking her forehead. Her ears twitch, and her head jerks back.
A gauntlet encased hand wraps around my waist and pulls me close to a tall, muscular frame.
“Feeling better?” Lionel asks.
I stiffen. He’s in full armor, so there’s little I can do to hurt him, though I would like to give him a hard elbow to the gut. Instead, I pull away, and to my surprise, he lets me. I turn around and glance to see if there are others near us. There are not.
His curls are pulled back in a tail at his neck instead of hanging around his shoulders as they usually are. A loose-fitting tunic in Vernow’s gold and purple hangs over the armor with the kingdom’s griffin on the crest. He looks imposing and confident, and for a moment, I wonder if Galinor can beat him. His lips curl in a satisfied smirk as if he can read my thoughts.
“You will make the announcement at tonight’s feast, Philippa.” He waits for me to answer, his eyes hard.
“No one will believe you are my chosen,” I say, holding my head up.
Lionel leans down, his breath on my cheek. I do my best to hide my shudder, and I avert my eyes to the wooden post near us.
“I don’t care what they believe,” he says. “You will do it, or Archer will be hanged by morning. Soon you’ll see how serious I am. Wish me luck.” He chuckles and turns on his heel. “I will see you at my victory feast.”
I run my hands over my dress as if I can wipe the feel of him off me. My stomach churns as I think of what I must do.
Promise or no promise, I will not see Archer hanged. Galinor better be as good as he says he is.
