Page 9 of Awakening
Trystan thought for a moment. His eyes glazed over.
Instead of recalling his first meeting with the Queen, he saw something very different. He saw himself in this moment, standing here in the garden with Emrys, talking, but the Queen never walked past. He looked across the courtyard toward the door to the great hall as if expecting to see someone or something. There was nothing. No one. Only stillness.
Trystan blinked. The Queen still stood in front of him.
“My apologies, Your Grace. I do vaguely remember meeting you, but I remember nothing else. I do hope you will forgive me.”
“Don’t fret. I did not expect you would. After all, that was many years ago. I must say, you have certainly grown into a handsome young man.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Movement beyond her drew Trystan’s attention. A tall, handsome young man exited the great hall. Dressed for riding with black boots rising to his knees, the man glanced in their direction.
His black clothing accentuated his athletic body over which he wore a long, dark red overcoat trimmed in fur. The upturned brim of his black hat covered much of his neatly-trimmed, auburn hair that fell just below his ears. As the man walked out into the courtyard and approached the Queen, Trystan couldn’t seem to avert his gaze.
“Mother, I’m looking for Brioc. Has he passed this way?” the man asked, his deep voice gentle but confident.
A quiet gasp escaped Trystan. If the Queen was his mother, then he would have to be Prince Marc. The man to whom his heart was already tied. No wonder he couldn’t take his eyes away from him. He studied the prince intently, pondering why fate would choose to partner a future king with him. A king—even a regent king—needed heirs, something Trystan wasn’t sure he could provide. His body may have once been female, but the herbalist’s potion he’d taken every week since he was ten had changed him. Perchance Emrys was wrong.
“No, I’m afraid he has not, nor have I seen him,” Endelyn replied. “Marc, before you go, I have someone I would like to introduce you to.” She turned and gestured toward Emrys. “I would like you to meet Lord Emrys Wyllt, a notable writer and scholar, and once an advisor to your father.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Wyllt,” Marc said. “My mother has mentioned you before.”
“Emrys, please, and the pleasure is mine, Your Grace.”
“And may I also present a friend of Emrys’, Trystan Caillot,” Endelyn said, a touch of excitement in her tone. “Though I believe you’ve both met once before.”
“Your Grace,” Trystan said with a bow. Tamping down his emotions, he looked up and his eyes met Prince Marc’s. Trystan’s breathing hitched.
Enchanted by the shorter man before him, stunning eyes locked on his, Marc found himself unable to speak. After a momentary pause, he extended his hand. Trystan reached out and clasped his hand. Trystan’s touch nearly paralyzed him. Mere seconds seemed like hours as he found himself mesmerized by Trystan’s strikingly pale blue eyes.
“Trystan,” Marc said as he squeezed Trystan’s hand in return. The Prince stepped in close, eyes locked and searching for what seemed an eternity before he lowered his lips to Trystan’s ear. “I knew you would come back to me,” he whispered.
Trystan held his breath as his heart beat hastened. He couldn’t speak at that moment if he wanted to. An intense sensation of warmth coursed throughout his whole body as the world around him faded. No one else existed. Only him and the Prince.
Perchance Emrys wasn’t entirely wrong.
Breathe, Trystan.
Emrys’ voice in Trystan’s head disrupted the spell.
“I have to go. Dance with me tonight.”
Trystan nodded, his heart stuck in his throat.
Prince Marc stepped back, releasing his hand, and bid them farewell.
Trystan wanted more than anything for Marc to come back.
***
Trystan entered the grand hall of Caerwynt Castle where multiple columns held up the massive wooden ceiling. Vibrant tapestries and large, stained-glass windows lined both sides of the gray stone walls. Multiple fireplaces kept the cool evening air at bay while several iron chandeliers filled with candles lit the room, as did torches mounted on the walls.
A bit overwhelmed, Trystan glanced around. A few guests already sat at several large oak tables along the wall of one side of the room. Tables decorated in fine silks and linens of gold, white, and red lined the opposite wall. Multiple dishes of various foods, including pheasant, salmon, strawberries, and cheese, breads, and fruit tarts, were laid out on silver platters. Ale and wine were also plentiful, placed in pitchers on the banquet table. In the center, wine trickled over a gold fountain adorned with bunches of fresh grapes.
Joyful music filled the room as some of the guests danced while others enjoyed casual conversation. Trystan expected most were likely courtiers or special guests of the king and queen.
Trystan pulled at the hem of his tunic and straightened it as he glanced around the room.