The Heart of a Queen (A Historical Romance)

Chapter 25

She waited until dawn before she went to find him where she knew he would be, walking his horse to graze in the meadow. Periwinkle fog pressed in from all sides, and Brienna was grateful; she knew that it would block the view from the castle, should someone be looking into her whereabouts.

Llewellyn acknowledged her presence with his customary silent greeting—just a nod, which she had once found cold, but had grown to cherish since it spoke so much about his casual ease and affinity with people from all walks of life.

Now, however, she found it difficult to broach the subject she'd come to see him about without the timeworn formality of small talk to get the conversation started.

"I..." she trailed off. I love you? she thought. I want you to send my fiancé away and claim me as your own? I want you to deny all the hard-won allegiances you've worked for and choose me instead?

"It was a good suggestion you made last night," Llewellyn said, breaking her desperate train of thought.

"Suggestion?" Brienna asked, drawing a blank.

"Inviting the Scottish and English lords. I'll send the letters off today," he rubbed the neck of his mare thoughtfully. "It'll be interesting just to see who turns up. Who knows," he flashed a grin at her, "we might end up going to battle right here in the great hall."

"I want you to teach me to fight," Brienna said abruptly. "With a sword."

Llewellyn laughed. "I wasn't serious. You have no need to fear a skirmish breaking out in the castle."

"But I am serious," Brienna insisted. The mist had teased several strands of hair from her braid and she pushed them back from her face. "I want to be able to protect myself."

"Did something happen?" Llewellyn was suddenly grave, his eyebrows coming together in anger.

"No," she assured him. Something had, but she couldn't ask Llewellyn to come between her and the man she was promised to, as much as she wanted to. "But all this talk of war—very soon, I see myself left alone in a castle in Leinster while my husband and brother are off fighting the English, and I would feel better if I had at least a small chance of defending myself. Should the need arise."

This wasn't what she had come to say—in fact, the thought of picking up a sword had never entered her mind until it came out of her mouth—but now that it had, Brienna knew that she wouldn't return to Leinster with Donnall unless she had something sharp to keep her company.

Llewellyn was frowning, looking at her with skepticism.

"You've taught me a good deal so far," she challenged him. "Are you not up to the task of showing me how to handle a sword?"

He shook his head, grinning. "I am, it's just... Here."

He drew his own blade from its scabbard and handed it to her. Once she'd wrapped her hands around the hilt, he let it go. The sword immediately plummeted to the ground, taking Brienna's arms with it. She cried out and tried to lift it back up, but she couldn't, not without letting the tip rest on the grass. She scowled as Llewellyn laughed, taking it back and sheathing it like he was handling a stalk of wheat.

"A soldier's sword is too heavy for you. I could have the blacksmith make something suitable for someone your size, but it would take a few weeks," he said, consolation written on his face.

"By then I'll have been married and taken to Leinster," Brienna said, looking away. She couldn't meet Llewellyn's eyes when she thought of it; she didn't trust herself not to cry.

"I'll have it made all the same," he said softly. "I can send it to you. Call it a wedding gift."

She released a shuddering sigh and hoped he would attribute her moist eyes to the fog drifting through the air.

"So I shall have to wait," she concluded.

"For a sword, yes," Llewellyn said, drawing himself up. "But I will still teach you what you ask. We'll just have to start with something smaller."