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The nose was hidden by the nosepiece, but after Sir Simon had swung down from his horse and lifted her, first to her feet and then into her saddle, her conviction was a little shaken. Perhaps the eyes, a misty gray-blue, held dreams. They were remarkably innocent eyesmore innocent, I would guess, than my own, Alinor thought, and smiled enchantingly. |
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The smile won little response. The face remained closed, but perhaps Sir Simon's glance lingered a moment longer than necessary on her. The explanation, however, was more prosaic than Alinor had counted on hearing. |
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"Your men," Simon reminded her. |
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Alinor woke to her responsibilities with a faint gasp of irritation. Sir Andre and Sir John, together with the whole troop, were still kneeling in the hot, dusty road. |
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"I beg, Your Grace," Alinor began, both grateful to and annoyed with her prompter, "that I be allowed to present my vassals, Sir Andre Fortesque and Sir John d'Alberin." |
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The Queen inclined her head graciously. "You may rise and mount, gentlemen." Then she smiled, not a bit less enchantingly than Alinor, despite the more than fifty years' difference in their ages. "You must be melting in your armor, and I confess I will be happy to take my ease. Let us return to the keep as quickly as possible." |
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Alinor backed her mare and the Queen rode past, signaling to the girl to fall in behind her. Sir Simon retrieved his reins from the squire holding them, sprang into the saddle, and gestured to Sir Andre and Sir John, who had mounted as soon as the Queen passed them, to join him. The men in the road scrambled out of the way as the Queen went forward with Alinor just behind. |
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"Ride forward, child," the Queen ordered. "I cannot speak with you if you trail behind. Do you know that you and I bear the same name?" |
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