Page 2 of Pippa of Lauramore
Father puts his arm around me when I join them. Serving women pass trays of cider and wine to our guests.
“Friends,” he says in his loud, booming voice that I have always thought so fitting for a king. “Today we celebrate my darling daughter’s eighteenth birthday!”
The crowd cries their approval, and the sound amplifies off the stone walls. I laugh out loud, enjoying the attention. Soon we are surrounded by my father’s elite knights. My parents and brothers are each handed a goblet. Father holds his in the air, and the crowd mimics him.
“Pippa has grown into a woman of great compassion, beauty, and vibrant spirit,” he continues. “There were days I was sure she would drive me mad?—”
“Here! Here!” Sir Kimble, my uncle, declares loudly from the ring of knights he stands with.
This outburst is rewarded by a roar of laughter that is much louder than the first cheer.
I give them all an indulgent smile and shake my head as if it weren’t true.
In the crowd, a handsome, fair-haired man with dark, mesmerizing eyes catches my attention. He winks at me. I acknowledge him, giving him a small, promising smile.
I will seek him out later.
Father continues his speech, and even though it’s about me, I get bored. Father likes to talk.
I resume searching the crowd for faces dear to me and smile as I meet people’s eyes. Ginna, my handmaiden, is standing at the very back of the throng. I wave, and she waves back, her eyes crinkling.
Cousin Anna is toward the front, looking serious as usual. I grin at her, and she gives me a tight smile. Her eyes always give her away, though; she’s about to cry.
“Today we drink to Princess Philippa of Lauramore, our darling daughter—my Pippa.” Father turns his goblet toward me, his eyes shining with pride.
An unfamiliar blush warms my cheeks.
“To Pippa!” the crowds yell, and they all drink.
My eyes pause in their assessment of the audience. Who’s that in the middle of the mass of people?
He’s a head taller than most, so even in this crowd, he stands out. He must feel my eyes on him because his gaze turns toward mine, and our eyes lock.
His hair is dark like the rich forest floor, his skin tan, and his chest broad. He has a strong jaw and well-defined cheekbones. His arms and shoulders are muscular, but his neck is well-proportioned to his chest and head.
He’s handsome like a painting, and I can imagine him atop a mighty steed, the sun streaming on his gleaming armor. He raises his goblet to his mouth and takes a slow drink, never breaking eye contact with me.
This is the man—the man who will beat Lionel and win the tournament.
I glance over my shoulder,checking for Lionel. I don’t want him to corner me into a conversation again. Once again, the tambourine girls make their rounds, and a quartet of players set up on the corner stage. Flute song twines with a mandolin, and somehow the tambourines, though in many different locations in the room, chime in and complete the joyful melody.
The man is here somewhere. I just have to find him.
He was easy to spot from my elevated position by the cake, but down here, mingling with the guests, it’s nearly impossible to see anything. Dearest friends, whom I’ve never met in my life, give me hugs and well wishes. It slows my progress considerably.
I make my way to the stage where the players are. If I stand on the first or second step, I should be able to spot him again.
“Princess?” A servant holds out his tray of cider.
I wasn’t handed a goblet during the toast, as it would be wrong to toast myself, so I accept one from the tray now. With the hundreds of bodies filling the space, it has become hot in here.
I sip the cool liquid, savoring the flavor. This isn’t our kingdom’s cider. It’s tangier and has a depth ours does not.
Was it a gift from one of the visiting princes?
It’s not unusual for guests to bring gifts, and they are greatly appreciated. We are limited to the crops and fruit trees that will grow on our fair, forest-filled mountains.
I press on, stopping as needed. Through a gap in the crowd, I see the master archer, who everyone simply calls Archer, laughing with several ladies’ maids and a knight.
