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Lancelot shot a sly grin at Tristan. “The Blue Knight of Cornwall needs a new sword, for his was broken in the Morholt’s skull!

” Laughter rippled among the knights as the servants refilled their goblets of wine and cleared away the empty dessert plates.

Issylte inhaled the fragrant scent of roses on the vine and looked appreciatively at the lake, glistening and gleaming under the opalescent moon.

The forest called to the verdant magic in her veins.

“I shall remain here, to prepare for the arrival of my guests later this week,” Lancelot informed her, drawing her attention away from the enchanting woods.

He spoke to his three most trusted knights.

“Prince Kaherdin, the Lady Gargeolaine, and the Princess Blanchine—Kaherdin’s sister—will be journeying from Armorique to remain with us for the month of September.

” Lancelot paused and raised his goblet of wine, inhaling the fragrant bouquet.

He took a large mouthful, savoring the exquisite white burgundy that he loved so well, his exuberant gaze twinkling in the light from the fragrant beeswax candle on their linen covered table.

Issylte gazed at the glimmering waters of the river, looked up to the stars twinkling in the dark sky.

The fragrant roses on the vines enclosing the small courtyard and the crisp green notes of the pine forest in the near distance enveloped her in the loving embrace of nature.

Her forest fairy essence hummed contentedly as she smiled softly, returning her focus to Lancelot.

“Lord Esclados and Lady Laudine will arrive from Landuc,” he said to Judoc.

“The men will want to train with you during their stay, as Tristan recovers his strength.” The White Knight turned toward Issylte, his face exuberant.

“And the ladies will entertain the charming Lady Opale as we welcome her to la Joyeuse Garde .” Lancelot gestured to a servant, who quickly refilled the wine goblets.

“Lord Bénézet and his wife will voyage from Anjou, on the Loire River. Abélard and his spouse will arrive from Poitou, near the port of La Rochelle. Audric of Aquitaine is expected by the week’s end as well.

All are eager to defend against the impending Viking attacks and will likely be eager to join our cause.

” After a brief pause, he added—locking eyes with Tristan—“I have also invited Lord Kjetil, a powerful knight from Normandy.”

Issylte noticed how Lancelot eyed Tristan warily.

“Kjetil is the son of a Viking who married a French marquise and settled in Normandy. They have vast pastures where they raise cattle and produce cheese. They also own apple orchards which are famous for cider and Calvados, an exquisite liqueur which is their spécialtié régionale.” He shot Tristan a commanding look.

“As a Viking, Kjetil will be a most valuable ally.

His familiarity with Viking ships, warfare tactics, and battle strategies will help us improve our defenses against the renewed attacks.”

Tristan returned Lancelot’s hard stare, his countenance an equal blend of disbelief and disgust. Issylte shivered at the intensity of Lancelot’s gaze, fixed on Tristan, who was simmering with barely controlled rage.

When dinner concluded, the three knights of la Joyeuse Garde bid them goodnight, thanking their host for the enjoyable dinner, kissing Issylte’s hand in parting, and returning to their quarters.

Lancelot’s two female attendants arrived to escort her back to the Rose Room.

As she thanked Lancelot for his gracious hospitality, he rose to kiss her on both cheeks— la bise —as his mother had always done in Avalon and Tatie in Ireland.

“ Bonne nuit, ma belle ,” he whispered softly.

Tristan kissed her hand and whispered, “Goodnight, Issylte. Sleep well.” A glorious wave of blue washed over her as she swam in the depths of his limpid gaze.

Her magic stirred in response. Bidding them both goodnight, she followed the attendants back to the Rose Room, leaving the two men alone at the table to finish their wine.

****

Livid, Tristan spun toward his implacable host. “I cannot believe you invited a fucking Viking ! By the Goddess, Lance, you truly expect me to be civil with a bloody Viking living under our roof?”

“I do,” Lancelot said unequivocally. “And I expect you to remember that he is a potential ally —and a valuable one at that.” Lancelot took a large swallow of wine and keenly observed Tristan.

“In the morning, after you and the men break your fast, my knights will escort you and Darius into Kerléroux. I had a female attendant place an order there for several dresses for Issylte to wear as the Lady Opale, including an elegant gown for the upcoming ball. Darius knows the dressmaker’s shop. He’ll pick up the packages.”

Rising from his chair, Lancelot downed the rest of his wine and stretched lazily.

“I know it will take several months for the blacksmith to complete my order for weapons and armor for all the new knights we’ll be recruiting.

But you should be able to remain in the local inn for a few days until your new sword is ready.

I’m sure the blacksmith will hurry the order for your blade— for an extra bag of silver.

” He placed a velvet pouch on the table before Tristan and shot him an impish grin.

Lancelot clasped Tristan on the shoulder with a deep chuckle. He then disappeared into the recesses of the chateau , leaving Tristan to curse under his breath, wondering how he could possibly restrain himself from killing a most honored guest of the legendary Sir Lancelot of the Lake.