The woman was middle-aged, her dark curls kissed with silver framing a square jawline. Her eyes were rich brown, accented by high arched eyebrows and lines from both worry and laughter. She was beautiful in the way a stately evergreen is: efficient and strong and towering. Her dress and cloak were gray, simple and serviceable but with excellent stitching and a few graceful details.
“Oh, hello, I—” She paused, taking in the sight of Guinevere and Lancelot. Guinevere silently cursed herself. She had assumed that Guinevach would take both her lady’s maids to the meal with Dindrane. But Guinevere probably depended on Brangien more than most ladies depended on their maids, because most ladies were a
ctually ladies and therefore understood what was expected of them in various social situations.
The woman frowned. “Please forgive me, but…are you the queen?”
Guinevere nodded, unsure what to say. This did not look like a woman who would question her own memory. If she had met the real Guinevere, they were in trouble. Guinevere’s fingers twitched. She could fix it, if she had to. But she did not want to.
Fortunately, the woman bowed. “Queen Guinevere. My name is Anna. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I have heard your praises sung since I joined your father’s household.”
“And when was that?” Guinevere tried to keep her tone pleasant and light, as though she were making conversation and not interrogating the woman. Anna not knowing her was a benefit, certainly, but it was also suspicious. Guinevere could leave for another kingdom today with Brangien and Isolde and introduce herself as anyone she wished, with two lady’s maids to support her claims.
“Three months past. Before that, I served in Lady Darii’s house. You may know her? Her family ruled a day south of Cameliard, near the black beaches of the western shore.”
“I am familiar with the name,” Guinevere lied. “What brought you to Cameliard?”
“With your marriage, Princess Guinevach was ready to prepare for marriage, as well. Your father wanted a maid with more experience than any in his household.”
“Did he not wish to send her to the convent to be prepared, as I was?”
At this, Anna’s mouth twisted. It was subtle, but Guinevere wondered what Anna was holding back with the expression. “She is older than you were. And with you married, she is eligible to be wed now.”
Guinevere wanted to ask about Guinevach’s father, King Leodegrance, but not knowing him herself—and with no one in the castle familiar with the man—she had no way to check whether Anna’s information was correct. “And how was your journey from Cameliard?”
“Long.” Anna smiled. “You will forgive your sister for wishing to stay. She was so disappointed when you left; she could not bear to have come all this way and not be reunited.”
Guinevere offered a tight smile in response. “Yes, I am glad my father was able to spare her for a bit longer.”
A shadow crossed Anna’s face. Her smile tightened like Guinevere’s. “As you doubtless remember, it is no great sacrifice for him.” She was angry about something, but the way she said it was intimate, as though her anger should be shared by Guinevere.
Guinevere chose not to respond. “I can see that my sister is not here. I will call on her later. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day. Please keep her out of the great hall when I am holding counsel, though. I have the duties of the king while he is away, and cannot take time for social calls.”
“Yes, my queen. I will make an effort to redirect her attentions. Though you know Guinevach.” She said it fondly. Again, Guinevere was expected to be in on some shared information between the two of them.
“After all these years, I am afraid I do not. Good evening, Anna.” Guinevere held out her hand. It was the best way to get a sense of someone. She would do it to Guinevach as soon as the opportunity presented itself. She should have done it at the gate, but she had been so flustered she had not even thought of it.
Anna took the extended hand. The older woman felt much the same as she looked: stately, calm, intelligent. But there was a strong undercurrent of intense curiosity. No threat or violence or darkness that Guinevere could sense. Alongside the curiosity was sadness, but Guinevere found most women carried far more of that than they ever showed.
Guinevere released her hand. Anna bowed and Guinevere left, followed by Lancelot. “Bar the stairway door,” Guinevere said, once they were safely back on the fifth floor. “I do not want her to be able to come down to our rooms unless she goes outside where she can be observed and where she has to cross the magic thresholds.” There was always a guard at the entrances to these rooms when Arthur was home, and Lancelot was here whether Arthur was home or not.
Isolde was in Guinevere’s rooms, sewing. She smiled but said nothing as Guinevere lowered herself into one of the chairs, exhausted.
“Shall I direct that your food be brought here?” Lancelot asked.
Isolde stood, a determined look on her lovely face. “I will do it! That is a job for me. Please remind me if I am forgetting something a lady’s maid would do. I thought I understood the job, but there is so much to learn. It is very exciting.” She seemed genuinely delighted by it. “Sir Lancelot, I will bring food for you, too!” She hurried from the room. Brangien was out, apparently. Guinevere did not know what she was doing but did not doubt it was something that needed to be done.
Brangien beat Isolde back, though. She rushed in carrying the scent of the evening on her cloak. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. “News! Several pieces.” She nodded in greeting to Lancelot. “The first: King Arthur will be back in three days.”
That was good. Though Guinevere did not trust him to deal with Guinevach, she wanted him back in the city so they were fully armed against all threats.
“The second: your sister’s young maid is worthless. I have never met such an empty-headed young thing. She claims she has known Guinevach for three years now, but she could be lying. I am afraid I do not know enough about Cameliard or your family to verify anything she said. She does not seem bright enough to be a good liar, so either she is not one, or she is the best I have ever encountered.”
Guinevere nodded. She did not know enough about Cameliard to test the girl, either, but Brangien did not know that. “If she is lying, she will have been coached, so we cannot rule anything out.”
“I thought as much. Dindrane will come by in the morning to tell us about her meal with Guinevach. And speaking of Princess Lily”—Brangien said it with exaggerated disdain, which made Guinevere snort with laughter—“it appears she was quite busy while we were gone. Rumor in the castle is that no fewer than three knights are considering courting her.”
“What?” Guinevere frowned. “She is only here for a visit. And she is a child.”