With My Last Breath (Page 22)

A large part of Cadmus existed in every mortal life that he had lived, but he wasn’t truly himself except for when he was Cadmus. It was more pressing than ever that I get him back – not only for me, but for our child. I curled my hand against our unborn child protectively and closed my eyes once more.

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Chapter Ten

The castle herald woke me from my nap with a bugle and his grating shout.

"Hear ye, hear ye! The royal tournament will continue as planned for this eve. A feast will ensue after." I could tell that he passed beneath my window and then continued onward, because his annoying voice grew more distant. "Hear ye, hear ye!…"

I rolled to my side and found Lucan’s eyes open. His arm was under my shoulders.

"King Arthur is still having the joust" I asked. "Even after the massacre of the peasants?"

Lucan shrugged. "I believe he probably wants life to continue as normal, as much as possible. Why should we allow the Saxons to change what we do?"

"Or the Romans?" I added. "It could be either, from what I heard."

"True," he acknowledged. "Although, my lady, this is something that you do not need to concern yourself with. That is my job as your man. I won’t allow harm to come to you."

At times like this, I did truly miss Cadmus. Cadmus, in his true form, knew very well that I was perfectly equal to him in every way. In our earlier mortal lives, not so much. I swallowed my annoyance and smiled cockily.

"Yes, Lucan. You are correct. I should sit by the fire and embroider something."

He grinned. "You’re such a cheeky one, Heleyne. Anyway, it is too hot to sit by a fire. You’ll have to sit outdoors in the shade or in the queen’s bower." I swung around and punched him on the arm and he laughed.

"You’re not meek enough by half," he observed. "But I love you to distraction."

"As I love you," I answered softly, stroking his bulging muscle where I had just punched him. "But do not become distracted this day, Lucan. Not at the joust."

He rolled his eyes as he stood.

"Must you think so little of me?" he looked toward the ceiling in mock despair.

"Do you think me so unskilled? I will win tonight, my lady. For you. Shall I carry your favors?"

"Of course," I replied lightly, rising from the bed to choose a red scarf from my armoire. "We’ll tie this around your arm."

He took it and bowed low. "I will have my squire see to it," he said obediently with a grin. "And I will win the tournament for you."

"Only for me?" I asked doubtfully. "Not for the fame and glory?"

He shook his head. "Only for you. I will hand your scarf back to you as a champion."

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I shook my head with a smile as he dipped to kiss me and walked from my rooms.

I took one moment to straighten my disheveled hair and set out to find my mother.

It wasn’t hard. She was overseeing the servants who were setting up the seats for the joust. I crossed the field to the side of the castle, treading across the wildflowers and grass that led to the jousting arena.

One side of the arena backed up to the cliffs that the castle itself was situated on. I stood on the edge for a moment, looking down. The ocean crashed below me, magnificent and strong, with sandy beaches unfurling for miles on each side. Amid the call of the seagulls and the smell of sea salt, I closed my eyes with the sun on my face.

The baby was rapidly stealing my energy and I would swear that I could fall asleep in this standing position if I stayed still too long. Shaking the weariness from my eyes, I turned to meet my mother.

On either side of the arena, wooden tiered benches were arranged for the crowds.

On the far end, a box filled with seats sat, with a bright green canopy snapping in the wind. Arthur’s green crest hung in front, just below the seat that he would sit in, if he didn’t participate. However, there was seldom a joust in which he did not participate.

His seat, like normal, would sit empty today.

Next to him, was Guinevere’s seat and my own, as well as several other chairs for visiting dignitaries and any noblemen of the kingdom who were in attendance. From this vantage point, we had a perfect view of the tournament. Any time a knight crashed into the dust, his lance splintered, we would see it perfectly. And to be honest, right now I just didn’t have the stomach for it. Men from this era so loved blood and sport.

"I wish that Arthur would cancel this today," Guinevere muttered as she straightened the chairs that we would sit in. Turning, she took a vase of flowers from a servant girl and placed them on a pedestal in the corner of the gallery box.

I didn’t know why she bothered. The smell of the roses would not come close to overpowering the strong scents of horses, manure, dust and blood that would fill this stadium in a little while.

"We do not have time for this," she grumbled to me. She looked at the servant girl who was patiently waiting for further orders.

"You may go," she nodded kindly to the girl. The girl turned and walked down the steps leading to the gallery and Guinevere looked back to me.

"Well? What say you? We do not have time for this."

"What would you like me to say, mother?" I stared at her in exasperation.

Aphrodite had such a tendency to work herself up into a frenzy and expected that her agitation would spill to everyone around her. And sometimes it did. But not today.

"Yes, we have more important things to do. But we cannot help that right this moment. Our absence from this joust would be missed. We will resume our search for Courtney Cole 59

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the sword tonight after this tournament. I wish to search this castle from top to bottom before we hunt away from here. It makes no sense otherwise."

Guinevere finished tying a bow on the banister in front of me and stopped, pausing to survey the area in front of us. The arena was empty and quiet, the bleachers free of people. She sighed.

"I know you are right," she murmured. "I’m sorry for adding to your stress. I know you must be anxious already. You are correct. We will thoroughly search the palace grounds before we search elsewhere."

As we descended the wooden steps from the gallery tower, I tossed my hair out of my face and as I did, I caught sight of Morgan sitting in the far seats of the arena, back in a darkened corner. Hunched with her, his head to hers, was Mordred. My blood turned cold as I stopped moving. My mother ran into my back, and I felt her follow my gaze, then heard her sharp intake of breath.