Sweet Black Waves by Kristina Perez

Author:Kristina Perez
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Imprint

LIKE A FORTRESS

HER HEART POUNDING AS SHE made her way from the garden to the west tower, Branwen paused to tap the harp on the green keystone. She sighed, steeling herself, and it resounded up the spiral staircase leading to Queen Eseult’s chambers. She spared a brief glance at the east tower, the one her uncle Morholt had occupied, and took the first step.

Morholt’s tower was empty now. All of his belongings had been destroyed immediately following the Champions Tournament. Burned. There were to be no remnants of the disgraced King’s Champion at Castle Rigani.

Branwen still possessed the sword he’d given her as a girl, however. No one had thought to look for it. She wasn’t sure why she had kept it: a vestige of the man who had tried to steal Tristan from her forever. And yet, she couldn’t part with it.

Fintan looked tired as he greeted her, his barrel chest more cumbersome. Everyone in the castle was worn out from making preparations for Essy’s journey. Branwen knew her aunt wasn’t sleeping much, which meant her bodyguard wasn’t, either. He was her most constant companion.

“Miserable weather,” he muttered before announcing her. Branwen managed a wan smile in return.

The queen was framed against the beveled window by heavy brocade curtains, gray light slipping through her braids. Her eyes were closed, her brow smooth. She looked like she was asleep except she was standing upright.

“Lady Queen?” Branwen said, feeling guilty for disturbing her. She swallowed down the metallic taste on her tongue.

“Branny.” Her aunt’s eyelids flipped open. “You’re all flushed.”

Branwen’s hand moved to her mouth. Was she? Could the queen tell she’d been recently kissed?

Queen Eseult gave her an assessing look. Now that she was here, Branwen wasn’t sure how to ask for what she wanted without betraying her cousin. The queen crossed the room toward her.

“You’re working yourself too hard.” Her aunt’s voice was shaded with affection.

Branwen shook her head, threading her fingers together. “Not at all. Essy’s First Night gown is nearly finished. It’s just…” Why couldn’t she find the right words? “Do you have a moment?”

“Always for you.” She motioned for her to be seated in a leather armchair beside the window. Walking over to the court cupboard, the queen picked up a carafe and began to pour two small glasses of citrine-colored spirits. “Tell me what weighs on your heart.”

“Allow me to serve you,” Branwen said instantly, hovering above the seat cushion.

“Dearest, I am perfectly capable of serving myself.” Queen Eseult’s face turned pensive. “It’s important to remember that sometimes we have only ourselves to rely upon.”

“Of course.” She sank into the chair.

Her aunt presented Branwen with the glass. Taking a sip from her own goblet, the queen settled into the opposite seat, gazing out at the gathering clouds. “There’s going to be a storm,” she said absently.

Branwen stared down at the golden liquid infused with dried Clíodhna’s dust. In small doses, it had a relaxing effect. Queen Eseult must have more worries than she showed.

Her aunt waited for her to speak.

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