could suffer
blindness or worse.
Nelina spotted Reah setting out a meal in front of two
women. As she approached the table, Nelina recognized them as the seamstresses
who owned a shop not far from the inn. The heavy blonde braid coiled at Reah’s
neck bobbed up and down as she gestured wildly with her hands. A faint tinge of
color tinted her pale cheeks.
Nelina paused at the edge of the table, not wanting to
interrupt the obviously heated discussion.
“I heard Simon from the Black Dog Tavern say he thought a
messenger had already been sent down from the castle with the news,” Reah said
excitedly. “Do you think it’ll be much longer until he reaches us?”
Nelina’s stomach churned. To this day, her heart skipped a
beat every time a messenger headed this way. As impossible as it seemed, she
still hoped to see Kirel come through the door, just as he had all those years
ago.
He’d come out of nowhere with a missive from the castle.
Within a few short weeks, he’d swept her off her feet and thrown her into a
whirlwind of raw, savage passion from which she still hadn’t recovered.
At this rate, she probably never would.
Nelina swallowed hard and jerked her gaze to the cheerful
blaze that crackled in the hearth set against the left wall of the room. Across
from it, a dozen low barstools had been placed in front of a wooden bar. A
couple of tall goblets and a squat bottle of wine sat between two young men
wearing travel-stained cloaks. Nelina made a mental note to serve them tonight.
She didn’t recognize them immediately, but they didn’t look like off-worlders
either. With any luck, they might know something of the king’s dealings in this
area.
“Well?” Rhea elbowed Nelina in the ribs. “Wouldn’t it be
wonderful?”
Nelina shook her head and tried to focus on the
conversation. “What would?”
“Being chosen queen!”
Nelina groaned. “Why would you say such a thing?”
The red-headed seamstress paled. Her hand fluttered to the
slope of her breasts. “You haven’t heard? The Tradition has finally blessed
King Shivar with a mate. After all these years, it looks like an heir may be in
the cards for our lonesome king after all.”
“I hope it’s you then,” Nelina said, not bothering to hide
her sarcasm. The seamstress was well past the age of childbearing but she still
beamed like a schoolgirl, her eyes lighting up at the possibility.
“You think it could be?”
Nelina threw her hands in the air. “Who cares? Honestly! So
much fuss over who gets to fuck whom.”
Before the women could answer, Nelina stormed away from
their table. Gods, people were dense. Why was she the only one who understood
that the king abused his power and intruded upon his citizens’ private lives?
Nelina hadn’t known Kirel long, but she was willing to bet
her life on the fact that he hadn’t done anything to deserve being kidnapped,
tortured and who knew what else. She’d tried to come up with myriad possible
reasons that might explain why the king would want him. In the end, she’d
settled on the lingering suspicion that Kirel must have overhead something on
one of his trips to the castle. As a royal messenger, he was often tasked with
carrying important announcements back and forth.
That was the only possible explanation. The king had felt
threatened by Kirel’s knowledge and he’d sent his men to deal with him as
quickly and quietly as possible.
Anger coiled in her gut. Worst of all, the king would get
away with his crime because everyone refused to listen to reason.
The chime above the doorway rang through the room,
announcing a new arrival. The whoosh of a windstorm hissed through the open
door. A hush settled over the tables and Nelina turned her head to catch a
glimpse of the new guest.
Before she could stop it, a gasp slipped from her lips. Her
hand flew up to cover her mouth but by then it was too late. She watched in
silent horror as time slowed to a crawl.
Three men dressed in traditional
blindness or worse.
Nelina spotted Reah setting out a meal in front of two
women. As she approached the table, Nelina recognized them as the seamstresses
who owned a shop not far from the inn. The heavy blonde braid coiled at Reah’s
neck bobbed up and down as she gestured wildly with her hands. A faint tinge of
color tinted her pale cheeks.
Nelina paused at the edge of the table, not wanting to
interrupt the obviously heated discussion.
“I heard Simon from the Black Dog Tavern say he thought a
messenger had already been sent down from the castle with the news,” Reah said
excitedly. “Do you think it’ll be much longer until he reaches us?”
Nelina’s stomach churned. To this day, her heart skipped a
beat every time a messenger headed this way. As impossible as it seemed, she
still hoped to see Kirel come through the door, just as he had all those years
ago.
He’d come out of nowhere with a missive from the castle.
Within a few short weeks, he’d swept her off her feet and thrown her into a
whirlwind of raw, savage passion from which she still hadn’t recovered.
At this rate, she probably never would.
Nelina swallowed hard and jerked her gaze to the cheerful
blaze that crackled in the hearth set against the left wall of the room. Across
from it, a dozen low barstools had been placed in front of a wooden bar. A
couple of tall goblets and a squat bottle of wine sat between two young men
wearing travel-stained cloaks. Nelina made a mental note to serve them tonight.
She didn’t recognize them immediately, but they didn’t look like off-worlders
either. With any luck, they might know something of the king’s dealings in this
area.
“Well?” Rhea elbowed Nelina in the ribs. “Wouldn’t it be
wonderful?”
Nelina shook her head and tried to focus on the
conversation. “What would?”
“Being chosen queen!”
Nelina groaned. “Why would you say such a thing?”
The red-headed seamstress paled. Her hand fluttered to the
slope of her breasts. “You haven’t heard? The Tradition has finally blessed
King Shivar with a mate. After all these years, it looks like an heir may be in
the cards for our lonesome king after all.”
“I hope it’s you then,” Nelina said, not bothering to hide
her sarcasm. The seamstress was well past the age of childbearing but she still
beamed like a schoolgirl, her eyes lighting up at the possibility.
“You think it could be?”
Nelina threw her hands in the air. “Who cares? Honestly! So
much fuss over who gets to fuck whom.”
Before the women could answer, Nelina stormed away from
their table. Gods, people were dense. Why was she the only one who understood
that the king abused his power and intruded upon his citizens’ private lives?
Nelina hadn’t known Kirel long, but she was willing to bet
her life on the fact that he hadn’t done anything to deserve being kidnapped,
tortured and who knew what else. She’d tried to come up with myriad possible
reasons that might explain why the king would want him. In the end, she’d
settled on the lingering suspicion that Kirel must have overhead something on
one of his trips to the castle. As a royal messenger, he was often tasked with
carrying important announcements back and forth.
That was the only possible explanation. The king had felt
threatened by Kirel’s knowledge and he’d sent his men to deal with him as
quickly and quietly as possible.
Anger coiled in her gut. Worst of all, the king would get
away with his crime because everyone refused to listen to reason.
The chime above the doorway rang through the room,
announcing a new arrival. The whoosh of a windstorm hissed through the open
door. A hush settled over the tables and Nelina turned her head to catch a
glimpse of the new guest.
Before she could stop it, a gasp slipped from her lips. Her
hand flew up to cover her mouth but by then it was too late. She watched in
silent horror as time slowed to a crawl.
Three men dressed in traditional
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