Queen Of Knights by David Wind

Author:David Wind
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: DMW
Published: 2014-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Gwendolyn was immobile, staring vacantly as she sat inside the large tent. Her defeat at Morgan's hands was a blow she had been unprepared for, and one which gave her more pain than the axe blade's bite.

She had been silent from the moment she'd entered the tent, and even after James had removed her armor, and Miles had cleansed and dressed her shoulder, she had not said a single word. Hours later, with tapers illuminating the interior, she could not take her thoughts from the afternoon's fight.

She relived, over and over, all her mistakes, trying to ascertain the cause of her defeat. She knew in part that overconfidence had reared its ugly head. But at the same time she wondered if Morgan's superior strength had also been a determining factor. Yet, no matter what reason she sought, what excuse she used, only one fact remained. She had failed!

Miles had been sitting near throughout Gwendolyn's silent ordeal and had wisely let her be. But as the hours passed, he sensed that if this continued, she might never recover the confidence to fight again, and he knew he could not let that happen. Others might want a simple wife, but during the last year, Miles had learned that anything less than the strength Gwendolyn possessed would not be enough for him.

She was unique, and he knew that in marrying her he had been granted a rare privilege. But, for that privilege he must prove himself, and Miles Delong, of the original seeds of England, would do what was necessary.

"You must eat."

"No."

"Gwendolyn, there is no shame in losing."

"For me there is."

"No. Your shame is in your pride!"

"It is shame nonetheless."

"And because of today you will let Morgan take what he wants?"

His words struck at her, but no anger welled to stop their passage; instead, there was only a dark void. No tears of release came to her aid, and she felt as if a part of her had died.

Miles stood suddenly, the movement in the quiet tent forcing Gwendolyn to look into his face. His green eyes, usually so gentle and compassionate, were hard. His lips were drawn in a tight line: a muscle spasmed angrily in his cheek. But not even this sight affected her.

Miles strode purposefully across the tent and went to her equipment. A moment later he stood with her silver sword.

"It has been almost a year since you swore me to my oath and took me to your cave to show me this sword. You told me of your destiny—and of mine. I believed in you. I trained you. I gave in to your desires. No woman has ever become a knight before. Perhaps, it is for the very reasons you show now," he finished, his voice dropping derisively at the last.

But still no spark of will reflected in her sky-blue eyes.

Miles shook his head sadly and looked at the sword in his hands, his anger growing in proportion to her apathy. "Shall I give this blade to Richard? He could melt it down and fill his war chest even fuller.

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