Froi of the Exiles Read Online Free PDF

for Isaboe looked up again.
    Go
, he read in her eyes.
    Finnikin turned and walked away.
    Outside, as they mounted their horses alongside Lucian and his Mont cousins, Finnikin explained what had been spoken between Isaboe and the Sarnak Ambassador.
    ‘We might have to make do with nothing more than an apology,’ Trevanion said quietly. ‘If what happened on the mountain is an attack from Charyn, we may need the Sarnaks now more than ever.’
    Finnikin shook his head. ’We’ve worked too long and hard for this,’ he said. ’She’ll not weaken on the matter. Mark my words. I know Isaboe. She will not give in until the Sarnaks give her what we want.’

Chapter 3
    T he Charynite was slight in build, but most Charynites Froi had seen were. His hair was worn long to the shoulders and although he appeared to be older than Finnikin, it was hard to determine his age. His face was bruised and bleeding and Froi knew from one of the Monts that the beating had come from Tesadora of the Forest Dwellers, tiny as she was, who now stood beside Perri with savagery in her eyes.
    The wife that Lucian had sent back stood before them, trembling. She was small and plumpish with a sweet round face.
    ‘My kinsman does not understand why you require me here, Sir,’ Phaedra said quietly, looking up at Lucian, her face reddening.
    ‘We speak Lumateran,’ Lucian said. ‘You speak for us. Understood?’
    Meanwhile Trevanion crouched down closely before the Charynite prisoner, studying the man with an unnerving intensity.
    ‘Ask him the reason for the attack?’ Trevanion ordered Phaedra, not taking his eyes from the Charynite.
    Out of everyone in the room, Trevanion’s Charyn was weak, Perri’s a little stronger. Finnikin had insisted they learn the Charyn tongue if they were to travel into the enemy kingdom to kill the King. Some days, Finnikin insisted that they speak nothing but Charyn for practice, although both Finnikin and Froi would become frustrated at how slowly they were forced to speak.
    Phaedra repeated the question.
    Froi saw the movement in the Charynite’s throat, the swallowing of fear. But nevertheless, he stared Trevanion in the eye.
    ‘Because I had requested more than once to speak to the Queen … or her king, and I was refused time and time again.’
    Phaedra translated the words.
    ‘So you take a dagger to Japhra’s throat?’ Lucian asked in Charyn, forgetting his vow to speak only Lumateran.
    The Charynite tilted his head to the side, looking beyond Trevanion to where Finnikin stood. ‘Well it worked, did it not?’
    Froi snarled, but didn’t realise he had done so aloud until the man looked towards him with little fear and a slight expression of … was it satisfaction? It was a long moment before the prisoner looked away.
    ‘We don’t need the girl,’ the Charynite said quietly, indicating Phaedra. ‘Most of you can understand me clearly. True?’ He looked from Froi to Lucian and then finally to Finnikin. ‘There aren’t too many men in this part of the land with hair that colour, Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘And everyone knows the Lumateran Queen and her consort speak the language of every kingdom in this land.’
    Finnikin stood coldly silent.
    ‘Ask the girl to leave,’ the Charynite repeated.
    ‘We make the demands,’ Lucian said. ‘Not you.’
    ‘Ask her to leave,’ the Charynite said tiredly. ‘For if she hears what I say, my men will have to kill her and they are scholars, not killers. They hate the sight of blood.’
    Despite the regret in the man’s voice, Froi knew he spoke the truth.
    Lucian called out to one of the Mont guards. ‘Get her out of here,’ he ordered. ‘Have one of the cousins take her down to the valley.’ Lucian turned his attention to the girl. ‘Return to your father’s house, Phaedra. Once and for all. If I see you in the valley, I’ll drag you back to your province myself!’
    The girl walked to the entrance of the cell, turning to look at the Charynite