Gambit of the Glass Crowns: Vol. I of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy Read Online Free PDF Page B

clansmeet.”
    “Oh?” He looked away from her and shut the door. “I had not heard anything‌—”
    “I told her it was nothing to fret over…‌just some boy whose curiosity got the best of him.”
    Connor saw the gleam in Ceridwen’s eye. She knew.
    “Your uncle would not appreciate you eavesdropping on the clansmeet. You need to remember such actions reflect badly upon him.”
    “I was not the only‌—” Connor paused, not wishing to implicate Gawain. “Yes, Ceridwen, you are right, of course.”
    “I brought you the texts you wanted.” Ceridwen handed Connor a book of vellum, bound in goatskin leather. “Why have you locked yourself away? I would think you to enjoy the revelry of the banquet. It is certainly something different from the mundane life of which you complain so frequently. At the very least, I would think you would want to see your brother.”
    “I saw him earlier, before the clansmeet. You are right though, I should go see him, if only to make an appearance at the banquet. But, I am just so tired.”
    “Are you feeling all right? Or, does this have something to do with the king’s engagement?”
    “No. I had not expected it‌—‌the proclamation. Surely, I thought he would have informed me beforehand. I am most confused at his decision to once again marry.”
    “Connor, you must know that it is not passion that dictates royal marriage, but the utmost of practicality. Your uncle has no son, leaving your brother his heir by blood. While the citizens of Helygen hold their loyalties to their duke, those of Cærwyn may not follow the duke of another province so easily‌—‌despite your brother having proved Helygen’s loyalty to the crown for the good of all. Or…‌did you have some wish to sit upon the throne of the high king?”
    “Certainly not!” Connor scoffed. “The mere thought of me sitting on the seat of the king‌—‌can you truly see me wearing the crown, Ceridwen?”
    “Well, no, I suppose not. Although, one could argue that your lack of ambition for the throne is what would make you the best choice for the seat. Or, would you leave the fate of the kingdom to the wolves?”
    Connor crossed his arms. “My brother has no ambitions for the throne, so let him have it, not I.”
    Ceridwen motioned toward the hall. “Come, let us walk.”
    Connor threw his cloak around his shoulders, pinning it with a silver clasp. He followed Ceridwen down the corridor to the back staircase in order to avoid the crowd. He flinched when he heard the rambunctious lot as the two of them made their way out into the gardens at the foot of Connor’s room.
    The torches had recently been lit in the garden walls, illuminating the grounds. The garden remained separate from the central courtyard in front of the castle by a high wall with only a single, gated doorway. With the exception of the apple trees still bearing fruit, the garden had withered and left the area looking far barer than it would appear in the warmer seasons. These were Connor’s trees and not part of the main orchard, which had been harvested some weeks prior.
    The shriveled herbs in the plot against the wall would replenish in the spring, and some of the more hearty plants would weather the winter, as the garden’s walls protected them from the stronger winds. But he still lamented the loss of so much hard work tending the garden.
    The mullein stalks were high, now in their second year. He harvested the leaves at the peak of ripeness and hung them in the drying house on the far wall of the garden. They would be used to make teas throughout the season to ward off sickness. In two plots on either side of the mullein, Connor planted common chickweed several weeks before, the only plant in the garden that flourished in the cool autumn and survived even the harshest winter. He plucked off a sprig and popped it into his mouth. Succulent and sweet in autumn, it would hold a delicate flavor in the new year.
    The guards changed