Orphan's Blade. Aubrie Dionne
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Название: Orphan's Blade
Автор: Aubrie Dionne
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Chronicles of Ebonvale
isbn: 9781616506780
isbn:
She pulled him closer. “Please.”
Nathaniel leaned down to her, so close their foreheads almost touched, and whispered, “Spies from the north have crossed into our territory. It seems the next threat to Ebonvale is closer than we thought.”
“The north?” Disbelief shocked her, followed by a dark dread, which settled in her bones. Had she awoken the threat when she called on the northern lands for help?
Nathaniel pulled away abruptly as Brax entered the corridor.
“Valoria, I must speak with you.” Brax’s voice was blunt and businesslike, as if he called on a servant.
Valoria glanced back for Nathaniel. He’d disappeared in the crowd. The old woman stared at her with large, knowing eyes that bored into her soul and upturned all her secrets. Valoria turned back to Brax and cut through the crowd. Anything to escape the old woman’s eyes.
She reached him and followed him into the council chamber. Ebonvale’s purple pennants hung from lofty rafters. An oily, vermillion scale as large as a carriage hung on a slab of wood on the wall. It must have been taken from one of the wyverns in the final battle at Scalehaven that she’d read about. Old swords lined the walls, probably the weapons of past rulers. This was a place where battle plans were laid down, a place of finality, a room of fate.
Unease crawled over her shoulders. All this time she’d wanted to be in this room, and now the urge to leave crept up her legs.
Brax gestured toward a high back chair with red jewels in the frame and a velvet cushion. “Have a seat.”
Valoria shook her head. “I prefer to stand. Why did you not include me in this meeting?”
He blinked in surprise, as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Ebonvale’s matters are not your concern.”
Anger flared inside her. “Aren’t they? If I am to be the future queen?” It was the first time she’d directly mentioned their union to him. She felt absurd stating the obvious fact they’d both been denying. But, sooner or later they had to come to terms with their union and all that it implied.
Brax ran a hand over his face. “One step at a time. First, I must ask you to withdraw the minstrels who are able to travel. They must return to the House of Song.”
“Whatever for?”
“There is a new threat to this castle. The minstrels will be safer within their own kingdom, protected by their…” He waved his hand as if he couldn’t possibly understand it. “Songs.”
Was his skull as thick as it looked? “They should stay here to lend their aid. You will need them.”
“They have completed their mission. They’ve brought you here unscathed. At present, they are distracting my forces and causing dissent in the city when we need unity to present a strong front. Do not fret, I will send a retinue of men to protect them on their journey back.”
“They are here to preside at the wedding.” Valoria stood as if she had iron in her back. She couldn’t order the minstrels home now after they’d traveled all this way and survived such a brutal attack. Besides, she wasn’t ready to be left alone with these warriors. The minstrels gave her a semblance of community. If Brax thought he could take that away with a single order, then he didn’t know the princess of the House of Song.
“The wedding must be postponed.” Not one sliver of emotion crossed Brax’s thick nose, thin lips, and wide chin. He could have been remarking on the weather.
Relief flowed through her, and she pushed it back, ashamed of her own weakness. Father’s words from her childhood came back to haunt her…watch what you wish for. “Surely the king and queen disagree.”
Brax shook his head. “They have given me full authority on the matter.” He walked toward her and placed a finger under her chin, bringing her face to meet his. “Do not pretend you are not pleased.”
She pulled away and eyed him defensively. “I am not pleased. I am…” She struggled to find the most diplomatic word. “Surprised.”
He turned toward the window, and whatever openness he’d shared closed like a steel door in her face. “The king and queen are on their way to speak to your retinue. The minstrels who are able will leave tomorrow at first light.”
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