Goddess of Legend (Goddess Summoning #7)(35)

"Hey, a party is a party. Especially at peak harvest time."

"And you want to call this Thanks and Giving?"

"Well, we can call it whatever you would like, Arthur."

"I enjoy the Thanks and Giving notion."

"Tell me this, Arthur. Why was Mordred not at the table this morning?"

"Because until he swears complete fealty to the kingdom of Camelot and disavows his allegiance with Richard of Fremont, he is disallowed at all brainstorming meetings."

That stopped her short. "He is in league with that pig?"

"So my sources say."

Isabel felt outrage bubble up. "How dare he come here, acting as if he's just waiting for you to hand over the throne?"

"There are many words and actions Mordred has sprung upon me and all of Camelot that make no sense."

"And yet you permit it. You invite him into your castle."

"He is my son, Isabel. What would you have me do?"

"Giving him a good spanking would probably be at the top of my list."

"A spanking?"

"A good whack or ten to his backside."

"You mean whipping?"

"With spanking, you do not use a whip, you take him over your knee and spank with your hand."

Arthur barked out a laugh. "'Twould seem he is a bit too old to lay him over my knee. But the image amuses me."

"His actions gall me."

"May we speak of more pleasant things? I do not wish to spend what time we have together on troublesome issues that I have brought on myself."

She was about to argue that he hadn't brought on this particularly bad-tasting piece of trouble, but stopped herself. "Yes, of course. It is too nice a day to waste."

Arthur steered her toward the stables. "Would you care for a ride, Isabel?"

"Oh, I would love it." She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Are they going to keep us company?"

Arthur glanced back at the men following close behind them. "Break off, sirs. I will meet up with you again shortly."

As they entered the stable, it was obvious right off the bat that Harry was not a happy camper. "If you have come for a ride, I'm afraid Samara cannot be ridden, Izzy. She has been hurt."

"Hurt how?" Isabel asked.

"Her leg has been lamed."

"How?"

"I can only say that foul play may have been involved. I can't see how she could possibly have caused this injury on her own."

"That little sonofabitch!" Isabel said. She turned on Arthur. "That beloved son of yours is a mean, nasty little prick."

Arthur grabbed her shoulders. "Hold off, Isabel. We do not know that this was the machinations of Mordred."

She felt her eyes welling but did nothing to wipe away the tears. "Who else would want to harm Samara? You know the answer, Arthur. You just don't want to see it."

"How would he even know which horse is yours, Isabel?"

Harry cleared his throat and shuffled his feet.

"Harry?" Isabel said, looking over at him.

"Well, when he came to stable his horse, I overheard a conversation between him and one of the lads. Mordred commented on Samara's beauty and apparent fine lineage and asked the boy if the king was considering breeding her. The lad told him that Samara belonged to the countess, not the king. And then Mordred said that perhaps he would discuss the possibility of a pairing between his steed and her mare."

Before Isabel could indulge in another tirade, Arthur said, "I will have my men investigate, Isabel, I promise you this. And no matter where it leads, the person responsible will be held accountable, should it be a stable boy or even Mordred."

She wrenched herself from his hold and ran to Samara's stall. "Oh, my poor baby," she said, opening the stall door and wrapping her arms around the horse's neck. "I am so sorry."

Samara nickered softly against her neck.

"Who did this to you, do you know?" she asked, stepping back and tickling Samara's muzzle.

Samara nodded her head.

Isabel glanced down at Samara's foreleg, which was wrapped in what looked like cotton cloth. Apparently that was about the only thing available in these times.

"Dick will be coming to massage her leg," Harry said from behind her.

She whirled to see both Harry and Arthur standing outside the stall. "She knows who did this," Isabel said. "We can bring Mordred down here and see how she reacts."

"Isabel, you are not thinking clearly," Harry said. "Samara is ornery with most of the stable boys. It even took me at least fifteen minutes to settle her down enough to allow me to examine her. And you well know that animals love me."

She turned back to Samara, scratching her neck. "We will find who did this to you, I promise. Okay?"

Samara nodded her head again, then pressed her muzzle against Isabel's chest in what one could loosely interpret as a "woe is me" gesture.

"Isabel, if you'd still like to take that ride, you are welcome to any number of my horses."

Isabel wasn't so sure that she could ride any other horse beside Samara sidesaddle. She'd hate to embarrass herself if the magic did not extend beyond her own horse. She shook her head as she left the stall and closed it. "I fear I've lost the desire for a ride."