The Bastard Prince by Katherine Kurtz

ruffling one hand through his hair with a familiar gesture that made her throat constrict with the loving of him. She caught a sob as she turned away from the closing door, determined not to let her ladies see her distress.
    Over in the window bay, her ladies had risen as the king passed through the room, but they settled back to their needlework at a gesture from the queen. As one of them held a hank of silk to the light, drawing out another long strand, the queen’s young maid emerged from among them. After casting a questioning look at her mistress, she picked up an ivory-backed brush and came back to the sunlit stool where the queen had been sitting, testing a damp strand of hair as the queen sat down again.
    â€œIt’s very nearly dry, my lady,” she said. “Shall I brush it a little?”
    â€œYes, thank you, Liesel,” the queen replied. And as the girl began to brush, her mistress closed her eyes and gave a contented sigh.
    â€œThat feels wonderful,” she murmured after a few seconds, eyes still closed. “I could sit here and let you do that all afternoon.”
    A faint smile tugged at the rosy lips of the girl addressed as Liesel. Pert and pretty, she was a little younger than the queen and shorter by a head, with hair a slightly paler shade of gold braided and pinned close under the white kerchief that bound it. The pale oatmeal color of her close-sleeved gown was not flattering to most women—which was precisely the intention of the great lords, in choosing it for the castle’s female servants—but Liesel’s high color made it a perfect foil for beauty yet to ripen fully. Her eyes went golden in the sunlight, lit against the pale raiment—eyes that shone with genuine affection for the woman whose hair she continued to brush.
    â€œMy lady has beautiful hair,” she said quietly. “Caring for it gives me pleasure as well.”
    â€œDoes it?” Michaela smiled dreamily but did not open her eyes. “Aye, it must be something like stroking a cat. It pleasures the cat, but the stroking is also pleasing to the one who does it.”
    â€œâ€™Tis like heavy silk that catches the shimmer of the sunlight, my lady,” Liesel replied. “Small wonder that the king prefers it unbound.”
    â€œAye, he does.”
    Michaela’s smile evaporated as she opened her eyes to glance sidelong at her maid, a haunted look flashing briefly in her gaze.
    â€œLiesel, you must help me do something special with it tonight,” she murmured. “The king dines with me, and tomorrow he rides for Eastmarch. God alone knows if I shall see him again in this life.”
    Liesel had stopped brushing and stared at her mistress with pity in her golden eyes.
    â€œOh, my lady,” she breathed.
    Reaching back to pat the girl’s hand, Michaela conjured up a brave smile, suddenly very weary.
    â€œNow, don’t you get weepy, or you’ll make me cry as well,” she whispered. “He must not know how much I fear for him.” She looked about to say more, but then she sighed heavily and felt at her hair again. “I think I’m dry enough now. I really do need a nap.”
    â€œYes, my lady,” Liesel murmured, eyes downcast.
    Covering a yawn with one graceful hand, Miehaela bestirred herself to glance over at the women in the window bay as she rose.
    â€œDear Lady Estellan, why don’t you and Lirin and Adelicia enjoy the gardens for an hour or two? I’m going to have a nap, so I shan’t need you for a while. Liesel will help me undress.”
    She did not linger to see that they went. She did not much care for them anyway, but she had to maintain a facade of geniality. As she made her way back into the bedchamber and watched Liesel turn back the coverlet on the high, canopied bed, with its hangings of crimson damask and gold-shot yellow silk, another heavy yawn claimed her.
    â€œI don’t know why I get so sleepy