“You may ask the physician who tended to me,” Summer responded with dignity. “I could have returned on my own, though but slowly.” A touch shyly, she added, “I would not refuse a chance to be in your arms, your grace. Though I fear you will think me too forward to say so.”
He could not help but chuckle at her words as he readjusted her so that she was closer to him, they began to walk through the hallways, and the servants looked at the both of them before they rushed off.
Rumours would abound soon of them, but Henry did not care much for rumours.
“You would be the envy of every woman in the court,” he said, “As long as they do not think that it was I who caused your injury in the first place.”
“I would set them aright, and right swiftly too. ‘Twas my own foolishness and no other thing. Your grace could no more harm a lady than could fly.” Once again, Summer tucked her head to his shoulder, closing her eyes to better breathe in the scent of him. Perhaps she /was/ falling in love with her King. There were worse folk on whom to bestow affection, be it returned or no.
It was fortunate that he did, for Summer tried to put her weight on her strained ankle, which unsurprisingly refused to hold her. “Highness!” she gasped, clutching his arms while she found her footing. “Once again you come to my rescue. I begin to think you plan these encounters!” She teased, laughing up into his face. “When you did not come to the library I was certain the business of government overwhelmed you.”
Her weight fell upon his chest and arms as he held her in the hallway, the way she spoke and laugh made him smile down at her – he did not notice how close she was to him at that moment – and he looked down at her as he tried to balance her once more.
Henry opened his mouth to speak of the court matters, but then he remembered that it had been an assassination attempt to his life, that they had wished to take his life at the hunt.
So he said nothing, and looked at her with a smile.
“Shall I carry you to your room again?” he asked her, and without a second more he scooped her up into his arms again, and he turned down the hallways, making his way to her quarters.
“Did you find the library relaxing?”
“Your highness, really, you must not … ” Summer stumbled to a halt when Henry swept her up again, effortlessly, and the edge of his emotion flickered in her mind. “Are you well, sire? You seem … ” she studied him from her awkward angle, fitting one arm about his neck, “ill-at-ease. Is there some way I might repay your gallantry and ease your mind? I’d not have you upset for the world.”
He began to walk to her room; he shook his head as she spoke, not wishing to think upon the attempt to his life. For he was far too familiar with such things in his life.
“It seems you always wish to be in my arms,” he said, changing the subject, “Are you so sure you have wounded your ankle?”
“You may ask the physician who tended to me,” Summer responded with dignity. “I could have returned on my own, though but slowly.” A touch shyly, she added, “I would not refuse a chance to be in your arms, your grace. Though I fear you will think me too forward to say so.”
It was fortunate that he did, for Summer tried to put her weight on her strained ankle, which unsurprisingly refused to hold her. “Highness!” she gasped, clutching his arms while she found her footing. “Once again you come to my rescue. I begin to think you plan these encounters!” She teased, laughing up into his face. “When you did not come to the library I was certain the business of government overwhelmed you.”
Her weight fell upon his chest and arms as he held her in the hallway, the way she spoke and laugh made him smile down at her – he did not notice how close she was to him at that moment – and he looked down at her as he tried to balance her once more.
Henry opened his mouth to speak of the court matters, but then he remembered that it had been an assassination attempt to his life, that they had wished to take his life at the hunt.
So he said nothing, and looked at her with a smile.
“Shall I carry you to your room again?” he asked her, and without a second more he scooped her up into his arms again, and he turned down the hallways, making his way to her quarters.
“Did you find the library relaxing?”
“Your highness, really, you must not … ” Summer stumbled to a halt when Henry swept her up again, effortlessly, and the edge of his emotion flickered in her mind. “Are you well, sire? You seem … ” she studied him from her awkward angle, fitting one arm about his neck, “ill-at-ease. Is there some way I might repay your gallantry and ease your mind? I’d not have you upset for the world.”
Summer hadn’t gone far, absorbed in a tapestry that had caught her eye. One hand on the wall to steady herself, she touched the threads gently with the other, tracing the figures stitched on the fabric. Half-consciously she slowly rotated the strained ankle, foot lifted up behind herself.
Henry saw her against the wall, looking at a tapestry and he stepped up towards her and smiled.
“It is beautiful, is it not?” he asked her and she jumped slightly, turning, Henry out of instinct – once more – raised his arms to catch her.
It was fortunate that he did, for Summer tried to put her weight on her strained ankle, which unsurprisingly refused to hold her. “Highness!” she gasped, clutching his arms while she found her footing. “Once again you come to my rescue. I begin to think you plan these encounters!” She teased, laughing up into his face. “When you did not come to the library I was certain the business of government overwhelmed you.”
A painstakingly written note lay sealed on the table by his bedside. The note within read, ‘Your Grace, I wished to let you know, the physician tells me it is merely a strain to my ankle, and though I must not stand upon it for some time I am permitted to hobble about if I take care and use a stick. I expect I shall be spending some time in the library. Might I hope to be favoured with a moment of your time tomorrow?
devotedly yours, Summer Rainault’
Henry lay on the bed as he read the note and he sighed as he fell against the bed, he had council in the evening but he knew it would be rude to not accept this invitation.
He undressed quickly and lay back on the bed as he fell asleep wondering what the girl would ask of him if she had wished to see him, for she had said that the palace was a bore and he could not help but agree with her on those words.
He sighed, he supposed he would see such things tomorrow.
The peace of the library was soothing after the way her maid and the castle servants had fluttered about getting her there. Bertha had pleaded with her not to leave her bed, in fact, but Summer was adamant: she’d not be holed up inside her rooms all day. She’d go mad if she couldn’t get out at least a little.
Fortunately, Henry’s library held copies of several manuscripts she had been wishing to read, including the Roman de la Rose and Lancelot, Knight of the Cart. Happily she submerged herself in the lyric writing.
Henry was making his way to the library when he was called away to the council again, he stood in the room as he was told of an assassination attempt against him and he sighed.
“Find them,” he said, “Have them hung for treason, and for attempted assassination. Has it been discovered when they intended to do such a thing?”
“At the hunt my lord,” they told him, “They wished to catch you during the hunt.”
Darkness superseded the sunlight spilling through the windows, and Summer laid the manuscript aside, carefully pushing herself out of the chair. She was oddly disappointed, though reason said there was no reason she should be. He was the King. He’d work to do.
She’d just wander the castle for a while, where there were walls to catch her if she stumbled again.
Henry was now making his way back to his original destination, the library, without even realising that he had picked up his pace he made his way there and found himself slightly out of breath. He thought for a brief moment why he had been rushing.
He would not know if the Lady Summer had waited for him, for he knew the hour was late that he should arrive here for her. But she was a lady and with that he was honour bound to come and see upon her.
For she was injured and he would like to know how she was managing, he thought of her ankle and of her shooting. It was a shame she would miss out on the hunt, he was sure she would have been a great contribution to the hunting party.
Summer hadn’t gone far, absorbed in a tapestry that had caught her eye. One hand on the wall to steady herself, she touched the threads gently with the other, tracing the figures stitched on the fabric. Half-consciously she slowly rotated the strained ankle, foot lifted up behind herself.
A painstakingly written note lay sealed on the table by his bedside. The note within read, ‘Your Grace, I wished to let you know, the physician tells me it is merely a strain to my ankle, and though I must not stand upon it for some time I am permitted to hobble about if I take care and use a stick. I expect I shall be spending some time in the library. Might I hope to be favoured with a moment of your time tomorrow?
devotedly yours, Summer Rainault’
Henry lay on the bed as he read the note and he sighed as he fell against the bed, he had council in the evening but he knew it would be rude to not accept this invitation.
He undressed quickly and lay back on the bed as he fell asleep wondering what the girl would ask of him if she had wished to see him, for she had said that the palace was a bore and he could not help but agree with her on those words.
He sighed, he supposed he would see such things tomorrow.
The peace of the library was soothing after the way her maid and the castle servants had fluttered about getting her there. Bertha had pleaded with her not to leave her bed, in fact, but Summer was adamant: she’d not be holed up inside her rooms all day. She’d go mad if she couldn’t get out at least a little.
Fortunately, Henry’s library held copies of several manuscripts she had been wishing to read, including the Roman de la Rose and Lancelot, Knight of the Cart. Happily she submerged herself in the lyric writing.
Henry was making his way to the library when he was called away to the council again, he stood in the room as he was told of an assassination attempt against him and he sighed.
“Find them,” he said, “Have them hung for treason, and for attempted assassination. Has it been discovered when they intended to do such a thing?”
“At the hunt my lord,” they told him, “They wished to catch you during the hunt.”
Darkness superseded the sunlight spilling through the windows, and Summer laid the manuscript aside, carefully pushing herself out of the chair. She was oddly disappointed, though reason said there was no reason she should be. He was the King. He’d work to do.
She’d just wander the castle for a while, where there were walls to catch her if she stumbled again.
A painstakingly written note lay sealed on the table by his bedside. The note within read, ‘Your Grace, I wished to let you know, the physician tells me it is merely a strain to my ankle, and though I must not stand upon it for some time I am permitted to hobble about if I take care and use a stick. I expect I shall be spending some time in the library. Might I hope to be favoured with a moment of your time tomorrow?
devotedly yours, Summer Rainault’
Henry lay on the bed as he read the note and he sighed as he fell against the bed, he had council in the evening but he knew it would be rude to not accept this invitation.
He undressed quickly and lay back on the bed as he fell asleep wondering what the girl would ask of him if she had wished to see him, for she had said that the palace was a bore and he could not help but agree with her on those words.
He sighed, he supposed he would see such things tomorrow.
The peace of the library was soothing after the way her maid and the castle servants had fluttered about getting her there. Bertha had pleaded with her not to leave her bed, in fact, but Summer was adamant: she’d not be holed up inside her rooms all day. She’d go mad if she couldn’t get out at least a little.
Fortunately, Henry’s library held copies of several manuscripts she had been wishing to read, including the Roman de la Rose and Lancelot, Knight of the Cart. Happily she submerged herself in the lyric writing.
Her mouth fell open when Henry — the King! — kissed her palm, and stayed that way until the physician called her name sharply to get her attention. She answered his questions absently, mind far too focussed on the moments just past. Not even the shock of pain when the physician flexed her foot to the fullest extent drew her from her reverie.
He had carried her himself, stayed with her while she waited for the physician … kissed her palm. Not even the back of her hand, in courtly gesture, but the palm. Did he want something of her? If he did, she wasn’t sure she should resist.
Summer wasn’t sure she /could/ resist.
Henry made his way down to the castle hallways and walked the small way to the council chambers; the time he had taken to go to the archery fields was spent and he was taken back to court.
He spent most of his time in council and had hardly any time of his own, so when the day was spent and he was making his way to his room his only thought was of sleep.
A painstakingly written note lay sealed on the table by his bedside. The note within read, ‘Your Grace, I wished to let you know, the physician tells me it is merely a strain to my ankle, and though I must not stand upon it for some time I am permitted to hobble about if I take care and use a stick. I expect I shall be spending some time in the library. Might I hope to be favoured with a moment of your time tomorrow?
With immensely false dignity, she protested, “Sire, you are flattering me unduly; I must beg that you stop.” The fact that her mouth was practically against his neck didn’t occur to her until she’d finished the sentence.
O God, am I truly flirting with this man who is my king? But he is so kind and genuine. O God, help me!
Henry couldn’t help but chuckle at her jest as he made his way to the castle, his eyes locked on the distance as he made his way towards it.
“I will take you to the physician to see upon your foot.”
As he made his way through the castle, and into the hallways he readjusted her in his arms as he made his way to the physician’s quarters, and he placed her gently on the bed.
He knelt down in front of her and picked up her ankle carefully, gently as they waited for the physician.
“Perhaps it is only sprained and not broken, lest you would have to have someone to carry you for the rest of your visit.”
“Hopefully it is only strained! I think to be trapped indoors, helpless to someone else’s will, would be more than beyond my patience, and as father will tell you quite clearly, I have but little of that to begin with!” Summer said lightly. Pushing herself up against the pillows, she reached a hand toward Henry.
“Thank you very much. No one could have been more careful.”
He smiled as he looked at her ankle and his hand brushed along her ankle he sighed, “My sister sprained her ankle like this before…”
Henry stood up when the physician came and he smiled as he took Summer’s hand and kissed her palm.
“I shall have someone come to take you to your room.”
Her mouth fell open when Henry — the King! — kissed her palm, and stayed that way until the physician called her name sharply to get her attention. She answered his questions absently, mind far too focussed on the moments just past. Not even the shock of pain when the physician flexed her foot to the fullest extent drew her from her reverie.
He had carried her himself, stayed with her while she waited for the physician … kissed her palm. Not even the back of her hand, in courtly gesture, but the palm. Did he want something of her? If he did, she wasn’t sure she should resist.
With immensely false dignity, she protested, “Sire, you are flattering me unduly; I must beg that you stop.” The fact that her mouth was practically against his neck didn’t occur to her until she’d finished the sentence.
O God, am I truly flirting with this man who is my king? But he is so kind and genuine. O God, help me!
Henry couldn’t help but chuckle at her jest as he made his way to the castle, his eyes locked on the distance as he made his way towards it.
“I will take you to the physician to see upon your foot.”
As he made his way through the castle, and into the hallways he readjusted her in his arms as he made his way to the physician’s quarters, and he placed her gently on the bed.
He knelt down in front of her and picked up her ankle carefully, gently as they waited for the physician.
“Perhaps it is only sprained and not broken, lest you would have to have someone to carry you for the rest of your visit.”
“Hopefully it is only strained! I think to be trapped indoors, helpless to someone else’s will, would be more than beyond my patience, and as father will tell you quite clearly, I have but little of that to begin with!” Summer said lightly. Pushing herself up against the pillows, she reached a hand toward Henry.
“Thank you very much. No one could have been more careful.”