25
As I made my way down the hall, I took in the portraits of the knights who’d come before me. They were all men. They all stood or sat with their chests puffed proudly at the great honor that they’d each earned.
I took a deep breath as I came to stand before the portrait of the last Sir Galahad, my mother’s father. This was a habit of mine. I’d been coming to stare at this portrait nearly every day since I’d been in residence in Tintagel, and still, I couldn’t see the resemblance.
Sure, there was the golden hair, the blue eyes, the proud chin. But I wasn’t sure if I favored him in any other way. It was said that Galahad was thought to be the most chivalrous of knights. That was quite a lot to live up to for a girl whose morals weren’t still screwed on so tight.
Down the hall, I heard
