Midnight Magic by Shari Anton Page B

staring at the slender rod of yew that had been aimed at his head and damn near found its mark.
    The warning was all too clear. Someone took exceptional umbrage to Alberic of Chester’s lordship over Camelen and intended to do something about it.

Chapter Four
    G WEN, CEASE PACING! Have you naught at all to do?”
    She acquiesced to Emma’s request by plopping down on the bed the two of them had shared since their youth, and in which Emma no longer suffered. With her headache gone, Emma apparently felt well enough to express displeasure at her restless sister. She certainly looked better, her color more normal and her disposition less troubling. Gwendolyn still didn’t understand why Emma had declared her headaches a penance, and had decided not to bring the subject up again, blaming grief for marring her sister’s usual good sense.
    But then, if Emma was so overwrought, how could she calmly sit in the chamber’s ornate chair, embroidering the hem of a garnet tunic’s sleeve with gold thread?
    A tunic meant for Alberic.
    “Nay. Now all look to Alberic or Sedwick for instruction.” To Gwendolyn’s own ears she sounded petulant, and admitted the lack of duties wore on her nerves.
    Alberic’s very presence wore on her nerves. She found his sitting in her father’s chair at the dais at mealtimes irksome. To know he slept in the lord’s bedchamber was so bothersome she could barely sleep. If one more servant remarked on how handsome and gallant and brave was the new lord of Camelen, she might be tempted to scream.
    True, Alberic was both handsome and gallant. While she’d felt a kinship with him during their short talk yesterday, and admired the clean-shaven, rugged cut of his chin, she preferred not to be reminded of her enemy’s qualities. As for brave, he’d returned yesterday from the village and stuck the offending arrow into a pillar, announcing his intention to capture the man responsible for its flight. This morning, he’d taken out one of her father’s prize falcons to hunt, and all wondered what game he truly meant to bring back.
    “Surely Alberic would not begrudge you overseeing the garden, or seeing to the needs of Camelen’s people,” Emma suggested. “Perhaps a walk out to the village would calm you.”
    “The ground is still too hard for planting, and we are not allowed outside the walls without guards. And until Alberic returns from his hunt, there are no guards to spare from their duties. I feel a prisoner in my own home.”
    Emma looked up from her stitching. “You are usually the calm pool, not the boiling river, and your ceaseless discontent is putting everyone on edge. You had best find
something
to do before you push us all to madness.”
    “I fail to see how you can be so tranquil and accepting. We have been as good as conquered, and with the exception of a lone archer, everyone seems willing to serve the conqueror! Do you not find that disquieting? Nor has he seen fit to tell us of the king’s plans for . . . us. How long are we supposed to wait?”
    Not that the king’s plans for them affected her. She would be gone soon, depending upon when she convinced Alberic to give up the seal of the dragon. However, her sisters’ fates were of great concern.
    “Perhaps Alberic does not know of the king’s plans because none have yet been made. And all considered, the conquest could have been worse. We were not forced to suffer a siege, nor has his lordship made overbearing demands. Lord Alberic may have conquered, but he did so in civil, bloodless fashion. Indeed, he can be a pleasant man.”
    “Oh, Emma, has he charmed you to complacency, too?”
    Emma smiled. “Would you rather him a beast? Should he allow the king’s soldiers to rape and loot and pillage?”
    “Nay, but ’tis unnatural for all to bow down so willingly.” Gwendolyn’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know he is pleasant? You have been ill most of the time he has been here.”
    “Not too ill to observe. And I talked