Gawain Read Free Page A

briefly in his grasp before he managed to control it. “Come here, my liege,” Aislyn crooned, “come and I shall tell you the answer to your riddle.”
    “There is no answer.” Gawain had recovered swiftly; he faced her, all belligerent male arrogance. “The question is impossible.”
    “I daresay it is—to such as you. But methinks your king has more wisdom.”
    Arthur took a few steps toward her, then halted, looking as though he might be sick. The stench, Aislyn had always thought, was a particularly good touch. She did not smile again—no need to terrify the poor man—but worked her jaw so the lower tusk slid against the upper with an unpleasant grinding crunch.
    Arthur winced but held his ground. “Yes, Grandmother? What is it you want to tell me?”
    So here it was. This had been amusing, but the moment she spoke, the fun would be over and the trouble would begin.
    Once Morgause realized that the king had slipped through her grasp again, her anger would be terrible. Aislyn did not grudge the king his life—now that she had met him, she was glad to be of service—but she could not discount her danger.
    I might escape, Aislyn thought. I have before. But how much longer can I trust to luck?
    It was her problem, not the king’s, one assumed of her free will, and there was no point in whinging about it now. What galled her was that Gawain should ride merrily back to Camelot, leaving her behind to face his mother’s wrath.
    Again.
     
Aislyn clung to his stirrup, looking up at him through a haze of tears. “Don’t leave me here—you can’t!”
    For a moment, it seemed Gawain hesitated, then he set his jaw and took up the reins. “Let go of me. Let go, damn you!”
    He spurred his charger forward, and Aislyn reeled back, catching her hip upon the mounting block before falling to her knees. Too stunned to rise, she watched in disbelief as he galloped out of the moonlit courtyard with his cloak billowing behind him.
     
No, not again. Not this time.
    The plan dropped into her mind, perfect and complete. She would be as safe as she could be, and Gawain . . . The sound of her own laughter startled her, but the harsh cackle only made her laugh the more. Yes, she would do it. Let Gawain see how it felt to be betrayed by honor. Let him fully taste the misery of doing the right thing and losing everything that mattered most.
    Let him spend a little time in hell and see how well he liked it.
    “I have a favor to ask in return,” she said to the king, who was eyeing her uneasily, no doubt as a result of her sudden outburst. “’Tis just a small thing, nothing of importance . . .”
    “Name it and it is yours.”
    “I want . . . well, lately, sire, I’ve had the fancy to wed.”
    “To wed?” Arthur struggled manfully to control his mirth. “Why don’t you come to court—as my guest, of course—my honored guest. Stay as long as you like— forever if that pleases you—and we shall look about for someone who might suit.”
    “I don’t need to look about.”
    The merriment vanished from Arthur’s face. “You don’t?”
    “No.” She smiled again, and he reached out to support himself on a tree trunk. “Sir Gawain here is a bonny knight and he says he fears no woman. Well, says I, that’s the man—the only man—for me.”
    “Grandmother,” he replied carefully, “Sir Gawain is— well, he is a good deal younger—”
    “Oh, I don’t mind that .” She nudged Arthur in the ribs and winked. “I will soon teach him all he needs to know.”
    Arthur’s pallor deepened. “I cannot permit this.”
    “What’s it to do with you? He’s a grown man, isn’t he? Let’s hear what he has to say.”
    “I’ll give you anything else—gold, you would like that, wouldn’t you? Or—or lands. A castle—”
    “Him,” Aislyn said firmly. “Or nothing.”
    “Then I fear it must be nothing.”
    She shrugged. “I still say you should ask him, but if you won’t, you won’t. Farewell, my king,