Tuesday Tales – Travel
Posted by triciaandersen
Hello again and welcome to another Tuesday Tales! This week’s word prompt is “travel” and we are “travel”ing back to visit Thatcher and Miranda in The Thirteenth Knight. When you are done please stop by an read some more incredible stories by the talented authors of Tuesday Tales!
Thatcher stood at attention along the wall of the Great Hall. The wide expansive room lined with stained glass windows was filled to capacity with the lords and ladies that traveled to the palace for the Great Harvest Festival. His eyes darted to his brothers-in-arms, Thaddeus’s other twelve knights, that also stood guard along the outer wall.
His eyes then slowly, deliberately studied every man in the hall. Thaddeus would choose one of these as Miranda’s husband. Thatcher snorted in disgust. Not one of them was worthy to lace up her boot much less warm her bed. He shook his head.
His eyes softened as they met Miranda’s. He forced a smile to her. He knew it was weak. There was no sparkle in her emerald green eyes as she returned it with a smile of her own.
Life in the palace over the past couple of weeks had been anything but pleasant. Thatcher was unaware that Thaddeus’s knights resided in the palace with the king – that was until he was shown to his rather elaborate bedchamber. It made complete sense. Having the King’s Knights in the palace at all times insured the continuous protection of the royal family.
However, it made Thatcher’s life a living nightmare. Always being so close to the one he wanted more than his own breath, his own soul yet knowing he would never possess it. The agony constantly etched in Miranda’s perfect face told him that she felt the same way.
He watched as Miranda pulled herself away to greet several guests. It was only for a moment. Soon her eyes locked with his again. He felt his heart thunder in his chest as he watched her nibble at her lower lip nervously. It he had any sense her would turn his resignation to Thaddeus. And run for home.
He was distracted by thin, cracked laughter. He turned his head slightly to where the chuckle had come from. With a silent growl he returned his focus to the crowd.
“You are the farmer’s son, the one who asked for Miranda’s hand when I took her from the village,” Count Brunon mocked as his long, thin fingers caressed the goblet of wine he held.
“I am,” Thatcher answered.
“And now you are one of Thaddeus’s knights.”
“Do you think as a knight you will be worthy of her hand now? I told you, Thaddeus will never marry her to a peasant such as yourself.” Brunon took a long triumphant sip for emphasis to his words.
Thatcher turned his head slowly to glare at Brunon. “From what Miranda told me, she can be married to no less than a lord. You seemed quite eager to retrieve her from our village. Were you hoping to be the one Thaddeus chose? Sadly, you are not a lord either. That, Count Brunon, makes you equal to me in this little tragedy, doesn’t it? Neither of us can have her.”
Brunon snarled at him then stormed off into the crowd without a word. Thatcher smiled smugly as he watched the Count go.
Don’t forget to stop by and check the rest of the incredible stories at Tuesday Tales!
About triciaandersenI am the author and illustrator of the children's book "The Peculiar Princess". I am also the author of two adult fantasy romance novels, "The Sorceress of Savon" and "The Woodcutter King of Muladin". Along with being an author I am married to a wonderful guy and have three beautiful children. I coach youth track and field, sew and chase my children around to their various activities.
Posted on April 22, 2013, in author, books, fiction, novel, romance, story, Uncategorized, writing and tagged attention, bed, bedchamber, boot, brothers-in-arms, Brunon, count, emerald, eyes, farmer, fingers, goblet, great hall, Great Harvest Festival, green, husband, knight, knights, ladies, lords, miranda, mocked, nightmare, palace, peasant, room, smile to her, son, sparkle, stained glass, Thaddeus, thatcher, travel, village, weak, wine. Bookmark the permalink. 15 Comments.