C. Dale Brittain Read Online Free PDF

in his hair.   And she had never before not known him to lead when they brought in the foals.
    There were voices and the sound of hooves in the courtyard.   She glanced through the open door to see that Roric, riding Goldmane, had joined the king’s sons.   His rather ferocious good looks, straight dark eyebrows over deep-set eyes, a muscled body always in motion, usually made her heart turn over, but today she felt more irritation than anything else.   In the one glimpse she had of him he appeared carefree, and he did not glance at all in her direction.   Could he have forgotten already?
    “I had not realized your leg was bothering you again,” she said, turning back to the king.
    He shrugged.   “I have not spoken with you for nearly two days, Karin,” he said, “since I had to tell you about your brother.   By now I hope you have adjusted to the news.”
    Oh no, she thought.   Here it comes.   He’s going to ask me to marry Valmar—or even himself.
    Instead he smiled and tucked a finger under her chin.   “So sober, my little princess.”   He had not called her that in years.   “I know you realize this makes you heiress to your father’s kingdom.   The All-Gemot of the Fifty Kings will be held at his castle this year.   Would you like to accompany me across the channel?”
    This was not at all what she had expected him to say.   The All-Gemot, she thought wildly.   She had contemplated it during the long hours two nights ago when she had sat up, dressed, in the dark, listening to the restless tossing from the king’s bed.   If Gizor and his thugs had killed Roric, she would have found some way to accuse Hadros before the Fifty Kings.
    She had not known the All-Gemot would be held in her own father’s kingdom.   She tightened her lips.   They had sent her out a prisoner, a little girl, someone less important than Hadros’s offer of peace.   But she would be coming home a woman and a future queen.
    “Yes,” she said gravely.   “I would very much like to accompany you.”
    “There are a few sovereign queens already among the Fifty Kings,” he said.   “And I’m sure you know it is not always fifty anymore.   Last year I think there were sixty-three in attendance, including several from those little kingdoms up north—though it was quite an act of courtesy to call them kings!”
    “How soon will we leave?”   Roric might be among the warriors to accompany the king—or Hadros might use the opportunity to try again to have him killed here at the castle while his own hands stayed clean.   She wondered if there was any way to ask the king to bring him along.
    “Ten days.   And you will want to bring your finest clothes.   I am sure you remember the standards those kings south of the channel set for themselves!   We will not be thought another little upcountry kingdom.”
    She had not considered that, and for a few seconds she ran in her mind through the fine clothes stored in the bottom of her chest—the red silk dress she had worn when she came here had not fit for nine years.   She did recall that, when she first arrived, this court had seemed crude, unrefined, but she had already been ready to hate everything about it.   She could scarcely remember her own mother, who had died when her younger brother was born, but now that she thought about it she was quite sure the queen had not worked in the weaving house or done her own brewing.
    “And the All-Gemot will be an excellent opportunity to announce your betrothal to Valmar.”
    Karin took a sharp breath, then bit her lip.   He had brought it up when she had almost forgotten to fear he would.
    The king smiled at her as though he had just offered her a treat.   “I could not of course urge Valmar on you while you were a hostage here.   No man could say that King Hadros made war on girls.   But once you are home you shall be able to make your choice freely.   You two have spent a lot of time together ever since you