A Crimson Frost by Marcia Lynn McClure Page A

his pavilion—not once had her mind wandered from the memory of his hand at her arm to steady her, of his hand pressed to her back as his parted lips met with her own.              
    “I must lead the men into battle, Monet,” King Dacian said. Her attention was thus torn from the Crimson Knight at her father’s side—back to impending battle. “If I am lost—”
    “Father, please do not—” Monet began.
    “If I am lost…you will be queen,” Dacian growled. A deep frown furrowed his brow as he near glared at his daughter. “I have left instruction for you…you know where.”
    Monet nodded. How could she ever forget where? The secret compartment in her mother’s tomb.
    “Yes, Father.”
     
    Fury and rage owned Broderick Dougray—Karvana’s Crimson Knight. As he watched his good King Dacian strike terror into the tender heart of his noble daughter, Monet, a hatred as he had never known rose within him—a desire to vanquish James of Rothbain with his own hand.
    He could see her trembling. By the manner in which her scarlet gown quivered, Broderick knew the princess was awash with fear. He fisted one hand beneath its gauntlet, resisting the compulsion to reach out and touch her—to reassure her he would protect her father. He would defend King Dacian and Karvana with his life. He wondered if she knew this of him. For a moment, the violet of her eyes lingered on him—seemed to plead with him—beg him for a thing. Yet he knew not what, in truth. To protect her father? To save her kingdom? He was uncertain as to what her frightened gaze wished to convey, but he nodded all the same. Karvana would not fall while Broderick Dougray yet drew breath. This was his silent oath. Nor would King Dacian.
    The Crimson Knight felt his eyes narrow as he watched his king give instruction to she who would one day be queen. She would rule well. This he knew, for he had seen the strength in her, the compassion for the people, and great wisdom—even in one so young. Further, he would serve her as he had served her father. If he lived to do so, he would serve her. He felt his jaw tighten as he thought of a new king—Monet’s one-day husband. It angered and sickened him to think of any man taking Dacian’s throne—of any man taking the Princess Monet to his bed. Yet he would serve the monarchy of Karvana to the death. For good kings and queens were a rarity, as were good knights—and he was a good knight.
     
    Monet could not stop the tears from escaping her eyes. As they trickled over her cheeks, she began, “Father…I—”
    “Bless them…each one as he passes, Monet,” King Dacian said. “They require your approval.”
    Monet nodded, and her father pressed a firm kiss to her forehead.
    “Knights of Karvana!” he shouted as he turned to face the knights lining the hall behind him. “We go! We fight! We fight for Karvana! For her people! For freedom!”
    Monet closed her eyes for a moment as the roar of the knights echoed through the castle.
    “To battle!” King Dacian shouted.
    Monet’s trembling increased as her father brushed past her.
    “God be with you, Princess,” Sir Alum said. Monet opened her eyes. The eldest of her father’s round table, Sir Alum Willham, knelt before her.
    Remembering her father’s instruction, Monet placed her hand on the top of Sir Alum’s helmet.
    “God protect you, Sir Alum,” she said. The knight, Sir Alum Willham, stood, nodded, and followed his king from the gathering hall.
    “God be with you, Princess,” the next knight greeted, taking a knee.
    “God protect you, Sir Blevin,” Monet said, placing her hand atop the helmet of Sir Blevin Jonstone.
    Eleven more knights knelt before Monet—eleven more of King Dacian’s round table, commanders of legions, heroes of Karvana.
    King Dacian’s first knight—Sir Broderick Dougray, the Crimson Knight—approached last. Monet thought her heart might tear itself from her breast, so brutally did it hammer. To send