Echoes of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 1) by Adam Copeland

born, and you are not.”
    “Thank you, 'mother,'“ Aimeé said, “but I was not talking about that. I meant only a little harmless attention.”
    “I think you would have as much luck as you have had in the past,” Claire said.
    “Now that sounds like a challenge,” Aimeé said gaily, hoisting up her tray of food. “But why not watch and let us see whose head I can turn?”
    She sauntered past the giggling Anna and Claire toward the stairwell. When she disappeared from sight, the two servants leaned out the window again to watch her reappear below on the hall floor. They watched her work her way through the crowd toward the long table where the Avangarde sat. Upon reaching the table, she placed the tray in the center of the table, even though there was already an abundance of food. She went out of her way to be near Patrick, who was sitting with the knights Jeremiah, Jon, and Gregory. She leaned heavily against the Irishman's shoulder. Anna and Claire's knowing eyes watched her stick her bosom in his face. Patrick averted his eyes and made room for her to work. Aimeé made some trite apology, to which Patrick courteously replied, but then he returned his attention to the knights.
    Anna and Claire laughed. Aimeé placed one hand on her hip and shook her fist at the back of Patrick's head with the other, but no one noticed except the other servants. Largely unnoticed. Aimeé stalked back up the stairs.
    “I told you, lass, but do not worry,” Claire laughed. “Either he is incredibly pious, or likes young lads.”
    “Or he finds me vulgar and obvious,” Aimeé said, her face red. Anna and Claire took her in their arms and walked her away from the balcony.
    “You will get over it,” Anna said. “You always do.”
    “For now, we best be getting back to the kitchens. Rosa Maria will be wondering where we are. And you know how those Italian kitchen madames can be,” Claire said.
    #
     
    “Good evening, gentlemen,” Sir Geoffrey said. He sat himself at the table near Patrick, Jon, Jeremiah, and Gregory. They greeted him with handshakes all around.
    “We were just speculating on how this year will go,” Jeremiah said, brushing back a dark curl of hair from his eyes. “All of us are Reservists, and this is our first year.”
    Geoffrey took a long draft of wine from his goblet. “Well, lads, my best advice to you all is to just take it day by day. There will be plenty of drilling of arms, horsemanship, and night watches.” He drank from the cup again and then made a swooping gesture, which encompassed all four junior knights. “But if it is adventure you are looking for, there is little enough of it. This is my third year, and there have been few calls to arms. Once to handle pirates and raiders who blundered through the mist, and another to rid the woods of critters.”
    “Critters in the woods?” Gregory asked. His sharp blue eyes sparkled like a child's.
    Geoffrey gently pulled off his expensive velvet gloves and placed them on the table. “Why, yes. This is Avalon, the fabulous realm where creatures of legend truly exist. You know, ogres, trolls, and witches.” The four listeners put their cups down and silently stared in Geoffrey’s direction. He laughed, and it became evident they had again fallen victim to the unusual sense of humor typical of all the Avangarde.
    “Seriously,” Geoffrey said, “once a year we beat the bushes to appease the villagers. The folks here are terribly superstitious, and they claim that all kinds of fairy folk beset the woods, making their cows dry up, scaring their chickens and dogs and so forth.”
    “Is there any basis for their fears?” Sir Jon asked. Geoffrey shrugged and ran his hand through his thick brown hair before replying. It was full and soft as if he had just bathed.
    “The milk in the cows’ udders often mysteriously dries up. Dogs sometimes bark until all hours of the night for no apparent reason. We can hear them even up here on the hill. Fairy