Eye of the Labyrinth Read Online Free PDF Page A

Her lips tasted faintly of berries. Another memory flashed to mind. Another time, another kiss. Marqel tasted like a heady wine.
    It was a chaste kiss that he shared with his betrothed and it did not last long. But it left her gasping. When they broke apart, she looked up at him, her eyes shining. It was almost suffocating, being loved so completely.
    He gently peeled her arms from around his neck. “Enough, Alenor. I don’t fancy being run through by some wildly protective lady-in-waiting armed with a tapestry needle.”
    She sighed and stepped away from him to a more respectable distance as her lady-in-waiting rounded the corner of the path.
    “Mother is sending a letter to Lady Faralan. What shall I tell her?” she asked.
    “That I wish I could help,” Kirsh replied. “But I fear there’s nothing I can do.”
    “Your highness, the ambassador from Necia will be arriving shortly,” Dorra informed them. “We will be late.”
    “I’m coming, Dorra,” she promised and then turned to him. “I’m sorry, Kirsh, I really have to go. Necia and Colmath are squabbling about their fishing grounds again. Mother wants me to be there when she tries to sort it out.”
    He bowed again, lower this time, and took her hand in his. His kissed it gallantly. “Then you’d best go. I’ll see you again soon. At the Landfall Festival, if not before then.”
    Her eyes narrowed at the mention of the Landfall Festival. “Perhaps. Mother is talking of visiting Grannon Rock this year.”
    “Not Elcast?”
    She shook her head. “No. Not Elcast.”
    “Then I will pray to the Goddess that I’ll be lucky enough to accompany you and the queen as part of your guard,” he said. Then he added in a low voice that only she could hear, “Provided I live that long.”
    She smiled faintly and withdrew her hand. “You’ll survive, Kirsh.”
    Alenor swept up her skirts and followed her companion back toward the palace. Then she turned suddenly and looked back at him. “Oh, by the way, I heard that Misha has taken a turn for the worse. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
    “Misha’s survived worse than this before,” he assured her. “He’ll recover.”
    “I’ll pray for him,” she promised, which was an odd thing for Alenor to say. But Kirsh was not worried about his brother. Misha would pull through. Misha always pulled through.
    As Kirsh watched her leave, another thought occurred to him. If the queen was going to Grannon Rock for the Landfall Festival, there was a good chance that he would be chosen for the guard that must accompany the queen. Rove would have to consider him, even if only because he was Dhevyn’s future regent.
    He did not let himself consciously consider the other reason that the idea appealed to him so much. A part of Kirshov knew, with a certainty that bordered on blind faith, that if he was anywhere other than Kalarada come Landfall, the Goddess would see to it that Marqel was there, too.

Chapter 4
    It had become the High Priestess’s habit of late to join Antonov each evening after dinner for a nightcap. While she had always been a frequent guest at the palace in Avacas—she had her own suite of rooms permanently at her disposal—she found it beneficial to catch Antonov when he was at his most relaxed. And his most vulnerable.
    He had been preoccupied lately; so much so that the last young woman she had arranged to keep him entertained had lasted barely a month before Antonov wearied of her and sent her away. It was unlike him to be so fickle.
    Belagren knew what was bothering him, and it was not the approaching wedding of his son to the future Queen of Dhevyn. It wasn’t the continuing irritation of the Baenlander pirates who harassed their shipping lanes. It wasn’t even the failing health of his eldest son.
    No, what vexed the Lion of Senet was the continuing absence of Dirk Provin.
    Antonov’s fixation with the boy was a constant source of irritation to Belagren. She had her own reasons for