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and laughing eyes, so lovely that something fluttered inside his body and made him feel oddly light and happy. |
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They had no more than danced the first measure when a page plucked Simon's sleeve and told him the King wished to speak to him. |
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"I will come too," Alinor said, having noted several earnest suitors waiting. "I can go aside and wait in a quiet place if Lord Richard wishes to speak privately to you, but I will not stay here and be hounded by those idiots and be embroiled in another fracas." |
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Simon's glance followed Alinor's and he sighed. If one partner did not hand her on to another, there might be troubleand once was enough. Simon looked for the Queen. He could safely leave Alinor with her, but the Queen was no longer in her accustomed place in the Hall either. Simon scanned the dancers and standers. There were other significant absences; his brow creased in a frown. Was that coincidence or was the summons more than an invitation to talk? If the matter was serious, the Queen would dismiss Alinor. |
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"Very well, come," he agreed. |
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They had already stepped out of the set. The protests of their fellow dancers had been swallowed when the page mentioned Lord Richard. Now they followed the boy, Simon's look of concern growing deeper as they were led quite out of the Great Hall and across the bailey to the Manor House where the King lodged. In the Small Hall they found a conclave of the royal family, the chief barons, and the lords of the Welsh Marches. |
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Painfully aware of having intruded where she did not belong, Alinor stopped in the doorway. Simon hurried forward and spoke to the King, who laughed, and then to the Queen who shook her head but turned and beckoned to Alinor to come forward. |
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"I beg your pardons, Sire, Madam," Alinor said curtsying, "but" |
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