Page 27 of The Sun King's Noon

“Brother?” Briony appeared at his elbow. “You have gone red. Are you ill?”

“I am quite well,” Richard said tersely, glancing at Elara, who wore a wicked grin.

Corwin clamped a hand to Richard’s forehead. “I think you’ve been touched by the sun.”

“Corwin,” Richard hissed, very much aware of the court’s gaping, “if you do not remove your hand this instant?—”

Over Corwin’s shoulder, past the cluster of fauns, Richard caught sight of Kaelen.

The knight’s jaw hung open, and his brows climbed so high they nearly vanished beneath his hairline. A wounded bewilderment wrestled across his features, as though he’d drunk lemon juice he’d believed to be honey. He looked terribly funny, and Richard almost laughed.

Their eyes met, and Kaelen’s mouth snapped shut. With a scowl, he jerked his gaze away.

Richard blinked. Why? What had he done now? Why did Kaelen have to become irritated over the most obscure matters? With a frown of his own, he yanked free of Corwin and straightened his doublet.

“Orric of the Greyhide,” Richard said, recovering his solemnity. “I—we—are glad of your presence.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Lord Byrom shall see you and all the Sylari delegation to your lodgings. We have prepared the back gardens, with a pavilion for the fauns and the grove for the dryads. Should you prefer something different?—”

“Earth and sky will do, Your Majesty,” Orric said, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

“Excellent. Good.” Richard tugged his ear and forced his hand down. “Wonderful.”

Lord Byrom bustled forward, clutching his sheaf of notes. Several fluttered loose and spiralled to the floor as he bowed to the Sylari.

“If you would follow me, esteemed guests! The gardens are just this way—” A faun stepped on one of his dropped pages, and Byrom dove for it. “Ah, careful, if you please, those are the dietary requirements?—”

The delegation moved towards the side door on the left. Tavrus wandered in the wrong direction before the faun withthe reed pipes yanked him back. Myrafrond’s dryads followed behind.

Richard watched them go, his attention drawn by Orric’s elegant tread and the shift of his dark hair. A druid. A real, mythical druid from the stories, who had not only accepted his invitation but also praised him. How utterly?—

The herald’s trumpet blasted.

“Announcing Her Highness, Princess Penelope of Estara!”

Richard stiffened. Slowly, he swivelled to face the great doors. A small procession entered in a sweep of blue. Estaran guards with their antlered helmets, attendants, and in the middle of them all, the princess.

Penelope.

In the year since she’d last visited, her freckles had faded, and her face had grown gaunter than the rosy-cheeked girl he remembered. Still, her frizzy bob remained the unmistakable red that marked the Estaran royal line, and her buckteeth revealed themselves as she gave him a nervous smile.

Richard did not smile back. Penelope was not meant to be here. Estara had not formally accepted. To show without such notice was a terrible insult.

“Princess—” he began, stepping forward.

But Penelope had already seen Elara. Her face crumpled, and with a broken cry, she gathered her skirts and all but flew towards the dais, ignoring her attendants’ barked admonishments, shouldering past Richard. Elara froze, looking lost, but as Penelope reached for her, she raced down the steps. They met in a tangle of gowns and desperate hands.

“Oh, Penny.” Elara cupped Penelope’s cheek and hugged the woman’s waist. Penelope choked a sob as Elara kissed her on the forehead, murmuring words of comfort.

The court’s mutterings swelled. Amongst them, Malgrin was stroking his beard, looking pleased, no doubt already planning a match.

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose.

This, he thought grimly as Penelope sobbed against his sister’s shoulder, was now a new complication.

CHAPTER 12

Over a year ago, Richard had been the one to wrench them apart.

He had not known until then, mistaking the frequency of Penelope’s visits for diplomatic diligence, never questioning why Elara readily hosted Penelope in her chamber each stay. It was Corwin who had tugged Richard aside midway through a feast and hissed,“How could you ask Penelope whether she has a lover? Do you not see it? She and Sister have been courting for years.”