Queen of Lost Stars (Dragonblade Series/House of St. Hever) by Kathryn Le Veque Page A

that was true, but sometimes she didn’t want to sleep with the man all wrapped up around her. There were even times she had wished she could sleep alone, somewhere else.
    Therefore, lying next to Kaspian was something of a new experience altogether. His arms around her weren’t cloying or needy; there was something strong and powerful and protective about him, even in his wounded state. And there was a scent about him… something musky and manly – that filled her nostrils in a not unpleasant way. In fact, she rather liked the smell. It was new and different.
    And his warmth… aye, it was more than likely the fever that made him so warm, but, God’s Bones, there was such comfort in it. She never knew there could be such comfort in a man’s arms.
    As Dolwyd continued to tinker with his medicaments and the fire in the hearth snapped and hissed, Madelayne fell asleep next to Kaspian, as fine and deep a sleep as she’d had in many a night. Somehow, sleeping next to the man brought her some comfort, as odd as it seemed.
    When she awoke later on, near dawn, it was to Kaspian nursing on her again.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Five days later
    K aspian was aware of a body next to him and soft, gentle singing.
    So softly sings, the wind, my babe; On the wings of angels, may you sleep, my babe; God watches over you, my arms embrace you; never are you more content than now; Sleep, my lovely, sleep….
    Whoever was singing had a lovely voice, but he wasn’t interested in that as much as he was the soft, warm, and small form next to him. He simply lay there, trying to orient himself and wondering who was in his bed, singing to him. He shifted slightly; his body was sore and it hurt to move. His mind, foggy, tried to recall his last memory. Something about a battle… through the mists of his brain… he remembered leaving Lavister for Beeston. Beeston! Such a brutal attack, with Welsh as plentiful as ants, swarming Beeston and the English who came to help. God, there were so many of them.
    Memories came falling down upon him, pouring down like a waterfall. He well remembered the Welsh bastards who fought without honor. Surely, some of them could be skilled fighters but they fought dirty, cutting men’s legs out from underneath them and killing horses to get to the mounted riders. All signs of bastards without a speck of honor amongst them.
    Bastards who had, nonetheless, managed to cut him down. He closed his eyes, remembering the spear that pierced his gut. He had removed the weapon and tried to ignore the bleeding, but bright red blood streamed from him and he knew that he had been badly wounded. With the greatest reluctance, he had turned for the rear of the battle where the wounded were being gathered. He remembered riding into the midst of the wounded and falling from his horse. He tried to walk under his own power but he couldn’t seem to do it; men were carrying him, taking him somewhere to lie down.
    And then he caught a glimpse of a red-haired knight, lying dead and beaten. Cairn. Horror had swept him when he realized that Cairn had been struck down. The man was lying away from the wounded with the dead, but Kaspian had recognized him. His heart sank. And that was about the last thing he remembered until this moment. Grunting with the pain that even lifting his hand caused, he wiped at his crusty eyes.
    “St. Hèver?” a soft, sweet voice floated into his ear. “Can you hear me?”
    He stopped rubbing at his eyes, turning with some shock towards the sound of the voice. It was coming from that soft, petite body next to him. Just about the time he laid eyes on Lady l’Ebreux who was, in fact, in his bed, he also caught sight of Dolwyd. The old man was over near Kaspian’s work table, now evidently cluttered with the old physic’s possessions. When Dolwyd saw that Kaspian was actually looking at him, he came away from the table and towards the bed.
    “So you are awake?” the old man said, sounding surprised. “I was coming to