We were interrupted by a knock at the door, and I was grateful for the distraction. He wouldn’t have liked my answer. Mott went to the door, then turned to me. “Lord Kerwyn asks to see you.”

I nodded, and when Kerwyn entered the room, Mott made an excuse about finding more alcohol and left. I thought he looked a little exasperated when he glanced back, but people often did when they talked with me so it was hardly worth noting.

nked Gregor, then told him I’d see my own way to my rooms and meet him again in the morning.

I walked away only until I found a quiet corner where I could back against the cool wall and breathe. Conner may have been right about one thing: I had never been more alone, and my situation never more desperate. Every minute of the night had pushed me another step closer to my death, and my options were narrowing. It was becoming clear what had to be done, but I was certain there was no hope that I could do it. One way or another, I would have to face the pirates.

Mott and Tobias were waiting at the doors to my chambers when I arrived there, and bowed when they saw me. I didn’t mind too much when staff at the castle bowed, but it was still uncomfortable for me when they did it.

Tobias was the last of the orphans Conner had taken. Mott was Conner’s former servant, and both he and Tobias had caused me no end of misery while at Farthenwood. Considering the odds against us there, it was an amazing thing now to call them both my friends. Over the past month, I had sent them throughout Carthya to find Roden. Now I realized what a foolish errand that had been.

Tobias was taller than I, had darker hair, and until my recent loss of appetite, he had been thinner too. Mott stood at least a head taller than Tobias. He was almost entirely bald, dark-skinned, and made of little else but muscle and disapproving frowns.

Mott’s eyes went immediately to my bandaged arm, and his brows pressed together in concern. “You’re wounded,” he said.

“Never mind that,” I said. “When did you get back?”

“Just now.” Mott’s gaze remained fixed on my arm. “The funeral for your family was ending as we arrived. Obviously, that’s not where you were.”

“They didn’t need me there. Everyone was mourning their own loss of power far too much to bother with grieving.” I turned to Tobias and noted the dark circles beneath his eyes. “You look exhausted. Haven’t you slept?”

“Not really.”

“Get some rest,” I said. “Mott can fill me in for now and we’ll talk more tomorrow.” I prodded him forward. “Go, Tobias.”

He bowed again. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“I’m Jaron. You know me too well for anything else.”

“Thank you . . . Jaron.” Tobias excused himself and hurried off.

Mott frowned at me. “You shouldn’t scold him when he was only using your proper title.”

“If it is my proper title, then you shouldn’t scold me at all,” I said sharply.

“They warned me you were in a terrible mood, but I underestimated it.”

“A mood to match this day,” I said.

Both his tone and his face softened. “What’s happened?”

The servant who held my door open adopted the notable traits of a statue when my eyes passed over him, though he was clearly absorbing every syllable we uttered. I paused in the entrance and said to Mott, “Let’s talk where there are fewer ears to gather gossip.”

Mott followed me into the chamber. My nightshirt and robe were laid out in case I was ready for them. A part of me wished to crawl between the plush quilts of my bed and try to sleep off this horrid night. The other part wondered how I’d ever sleep again.

No sooner had the doors shut before Mott tore away the rest of my cut sleeve, then reached for the bandage on my arm. “Who did this?”

“It seems I have even fewer friends than I thought.”

Mott harrumphed while he finished untying the bandage and studied the cut. “This needs some alcohol.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s bad enough. Fortunately, this isn’t your sword arm.”

“They’re both my sword arms.” I naturally preferred my left hand, but my father had forced me to train with my right. As a child, that had frustrated me, but the ability to fight with either hand had become a valuable skill as I grew older. “How is that relevant?”

“Because I’ve heard that the king spends every minute he can spare in the courtyard practicing with a sword. Why is that?”

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Ascendance Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net