Page 90 of The Consolation Prize

Una watched in amazement as a procession of costly raiment, linens, damasks, brocades, tapestries, and lavish furnishings were paraded into the hall. The servants were open-mouthed as the pile grew high and items were stacked up against the far wall.

“I think,” Armand murmured in her ear, “that we must be grateful neither Muriel nor Henry are here to see this disgusting parade of extravagance.”

Una choked back a laugh. “They would not approve,” she agreed. “And it seems I no longer need to visit that marketplace. Only consider how well those vibrant tapestries will look in the solar!”

The second herald cleared his throat and approached them with a letter in hand. He bowed low and presented it. Armand made no move to take it, merely looked steadily at Una, so she plucked it from the herald’s fingers and opened it.

“It’s an invitation,” she said steadily, “for us to attend the Royal Autumn Tournament at Aphrany as the King’s honored guests.”

Epilogue

Three months later, the Autumn Royal Tournament, Aphrany

Una sat in the royal balcony once more. This time she was seated at King Wymer’s left while Queen Armenal sat on his right. It was both familiar, and yet also, vastly different to how she remembered the experience.

At first, she had been heartily dismayed to learn that the King expected her to sit in the royal box. She was not a royal, as she pointed out firmly to Lord Vawdrey. She wanted to sit among the other sundry nobles in the less exalted stands. She neither deserved nor desired such a mark of distinction from the King.

Lord Vawdrey, however, had been equally firm, an amused smile played about his lips. “Lady Una, I believe you must indulge the King in his wish. Since you have married De Bussell, he believes you have done him great credit and is very gratified to have you back under his aegis. He was most upset that you rushed off so precipitately after your wedding.” Seeing she was unconvinced, he added softly, “I fear if he does not see enough of you on your month-long visit to court, then he might suggest you extend it.”

His mildly spoken words hit their target and Una sucked in a horrified breath. “Oh no, no,” she blurted. “That would not be convenient at all!”

Lord Vawdrey tutted sympathetically and Una pressed her lips together. “Very well, I will join His Majesty in the royal box,” she had conceded with barely concealed ill grace and been rewarded with a singularly charming smile. “I only hope my husband will not be too displeased,” she added darkly.

“Dear me, I am persuaded he will be thrilled at the opportunity to both impress you and cover himself in glory in one fell swoop,” Lord Vawdrey had answered with an arched black brow. Una had felt suddenly an uncomfortable suspicion that that Lord Vawdrey was fully aware that Armand had spent most of his competitive career dissembling. She felt herself color hotly and was glad to flee his presence at the first opportunity.

For the past two weeks, she had spent as much time in Wymer’s company as she had Armand’s. She had been expected to sit with the King at formal banquets almost every evening. She was urged to join him on his morning hunt and applaud his prowess in the saddle. She had been hawking with the King, and even summoned to breakfast with him, a high favor indeed and one extended to precious few.

The King only ever breakfasted attended by Bathilde, his treasured old nurse, and whoever was his current favorite. Bathilde had clucked over her and served her a revolting pap of milk and bread that Wymer had eaten as meekly as any child in the nursery. Then, he had taken her on a tour of the royal crown jewels. She had seen, with surprise, the two highly encrusted collars she had left behind, encased beside the King’s ceremonial crowns. He had nodded at them significantly and patted her hand.

“Well, well, you’re a good girl,” he had said, clearing his throat. “And a credit to me.”

In short, the history books had been entirely revised and Una now figured in them, not as a foreign oddity and royal embarrassment, but as Wymer’s most cherished cousin, a relation he prized so highly that he had bestowed her hand in marriage on one of his most favored knights. Una though bewildered by this turn of events, could only be grateful for it.

At the banquet the previous evening, there had been a ballad sung in her honor of her loyalty to the King, her royal cousin, and her beauty, which inspired devotion in a chivalric breast. Una had scarcely known where to look, but the assembly had enthusiastically applauded and demanded an encore.

Armand’s own reaction had been somewhat mixed. “Aye, well so long as he doesn’t start getting any ideas,” he had rumbled, pulling her into his arms as soon as they were alone. Una had hurriedly assured him that the King’s attentions were far from amorous but seemed instead a bewildering mix of the brotherly and the paternal. He had been appeased, but Una could not help but be aware that Armand was as keen to return to Little Derring as she was. That fact alone made her able now to bear court and all its attendant nonsense.

She glanced to the side where Fulcher lolled with the royal pages, looking disreputable as ever. Really, she would have to make him another hat soon, for that one looked quite dreadful perched on his head. He was having a high time acting as Armand’s attendant, for they had been unable to drag the newlywed Otho away from Lynwode or from Rose. Fulcher noticing her regard, tipped her a wink, nodding meaningfully to the arena and Una turned back to watch.

Armand’s sword swung down upon Sir Garman Orde’s with a mighty clash of steel. The King’s hand simultaneously clapped down on Una’s knee and gripped it so hard she nearly shot out of her seat.

“He’s going to do it!” Wymer muttered excitedly. “Always knew he had it in him! I always said, did I not? That he could be a champion.” Wymer’s words were choked with emotion and his eyes moist. Una marveled that he could feel so deeply about it.

Queen Armenal pursed her lips. “If he garners glory now,” she said, “he does so, because he hath found something worth fighting for.” She paused when both Wymer and Una looked back at her blankly. “His lady’s honor,” the Queen explained loftily.

“Oh aye,” Wymer agreed, blowing his nose. “I take your meaning. It’s for your sake cousin, that he has found his form.” He patted Una’s hand and signaled for a page to bring forth wine. “My cousin, my cousin,” he ushered irritably when they went to hand him the first goblet. He was determined that for her month-long stay she would be his most honored guest.

Una took it with thanks and gazed down at Armand. Even if he had come in last place again, it would not have changed her feeling toward him in any way. His face beneath his visor was streaked with sweat and she could tell he would be exhausted after. She would have to insist she missed tonight’s banquet to tend his wounds, she thought, perking up. Then she could bathe him and fuss over him to her heart’s content.

“Look at him!” the King crowed, almost spilling his wine on his hose. “Driven. Purposeful. All the resolve he previously lacked!” He slapped his knee, then raised his cup to silently toast Una. “All down to you, Una,” he concurred with a nod to his wife. “As my Queen pointed out.”

“Of course, he could still lose,” Queen Armenal said musingly, earning a ferocious glower from Wymer. “Sir Garman does not cherish the runners-up cup and his own wife watches on.”

Una glanced across to the box opposite, where the once-famous beauty Lady Lenora Orde watched with her cousin Lady Eden Vawdrey. She envied them the large white banner they sat beneath with the black heart weeping three drops of scarlet blood. She needed to have a large banner made up for Armand, she vowed, with his white winged horse on its blue field. Then she too could watch her husband from beneath his colors.

They had a banner hanging at Lynwode now, but they needed one they could pack up to take to tournaments also. Una had only accompanied her husband to one rural tournament so far. She had watched him lift the victor’s cup at Areley Kings in June and crown her tournament queen. Somehow, she had far preferred that tournament to this pomp-filled one at the palace.

The crowd had fallen painfully quiet now and waited with bated breath for the victor to emerge from the grueling battle. All that could be heard was the ring of steel striking upon steel. Both men were staggering now and on their last legs. The tournament had run three days and whoever won this final bout would emerge the overall champion of the Royal Autumn Tournament.