Edward shook his head. "Let the bastard wait. I assure you, after this, no one will dare rise up against me again."
Royce nodded and fell silent. Edward's gruesome plan for Dafydd was one of the times he disagreed with his friend. 'Twould make matters much simpler if Edward was not king, but there it was. If he dared mention he thought the execution distasteful, he could very well incur Edward's erratic wrath himself. He thought of Gillian and her anxiousness to be back at Lyndon. Once she learned of Dafydd's sentence, he worried she'd speak out against Edward's choice.
"Come, we will rest and take a meal before retiring. I will not make any pronouncements until morning." Edward reined in his mount and slid from the saddle before the steps to the castle. He looked up to the open doors. Burnell, having ridden ahead, descended until he stood before Edward.
"How was your journey?" the chancellor asked.
"Fair enough. Who has arrived?"
Royce half-listened to the list of barons and earls who had come to attend Parliament and the trial. He perused the bustling city, knowing Edward had likely been right. Once these people witnessed the Welsh prince's execution, their thirst for blood would fade.
Royce handed over Viking's reins to the groomsman and walked toward the queen's litter. The crowd was much larger than he'd anticipated. He paused as the door to the carriage swung open and Eleanor appeared. She hesitated a few moments, ever aware of those who watched. Two guards assisted her on her descent. Royce found himself looking beyond for his wife, the king's mocking words of earlier taunting him anew.
Yet he couldn't help watching for her, needing to know she was as secure as the queen. One by one, the queen's ladies in waiting descended the litter, the three traveling with her soon taking up positions around her.
Finally, the last to depart, Gillian stepped from the carriage.
He found himself noting similarities between his wife and the queen. The regal way she carried herself, with confidence, even though he knew she must be terrified, raised his respect for her even more.
"Panther! Welcome back!"
Royce turned. A tall blonde woman wove through the mob. He had not seen Lady Joan FitzOsborne in some time. He eyed her warily. She was as lovely as he remembered, but suddenly, he could not think of why he had ever been drawn to her. Now, all he wanted was a dark-haired violet-eyed spitfire to warm his bed. Lady Joan seemed a very pale comparison. Still, the woman could be trouble.
"How I have missed you! It has been almost a full year since we have last seen each other." Royce nodded. "Aye, and much has changed since then. I understand you are soon to be betrothed."
Lady Joan's face saddened. "Aye. To the king's nephew."
"You are not happy with the match?"
Royce glanced out over the crowd. Where had Gillian disappeared to? He looked down at Lady Joan once again. She smiled prettily he supposed, but he found her to be fake as the jewels around her neck.
"Perhaps you will sit with me at supper this eve." Sheoffered a smile that gave her the appearance of a snake.
Royce shook his head. "Nay, my lady. I am recently wed, as I'm sure you know. And now, I must find my wife."
Royce disengaged his arm from hers and turned, once more searching the crowd. Where had Gillian gone? There, walking behind the queen while Eleanor greeted her subjects. Royce strode to her, shoving aside anyone in his path. He didn't care who he insulted, the need to get to her, and away from Lady Joan, intensified with each moment. Just as he reached her, she was pulled away. Royce seethed to see Hugo deLacey, a baron from the south, draw her to him. When Gillian tried to unsuccessfully wrench free, Royce's vision hazed red.
He had just reached the pair when Gillian's fist connected with deLacey's jaw. Clearly stunned, the man released her, staggering back.
"You stupid oaf! How dare you!"
The blow and her sharp rebuke eased Royce's fury and he grinned. His Wildcat could easily subdue a weakling like deLacey. He moved closer, concealing his humor and forcing a scowl.
"What do you with my wife, deLacey?" he demanded.
Gillian spun about, her eyes wide and oddly fearful. He gave her a reassuring smile.
"Wildcat, you are surely a match for many of the men here!"
The relief and pleasure lighting her eyes sparked a responding jolt within him. He turned back to deLacey, his fury returning as he stared at the man who dared put hands on his wife. He took two steps toward the shorter man, whose thin frame trembled like a sapling in a strong wind.
"I didn't know she was your wife!"
Fists clenching and unclenching, Royce inhaled sharply. He had no time to waste on this foolish excuse for a man.
"Tread carefully, deLacey, lest you find yourself dangling from the end of a sword."
He turned to his wife and grabbed her wrist, pushinghis way through the crowd once again.
