Heir Apparent Read Online Free PDF Page A

and Rawdon, it didn't seem a good plan to throw four-sixths of the people I knew into prison.
    I had to find an ally—
and fast.
As I ran after my family like a puppy that doesn't want to get left behind, I considered.
    The queen had every reason to hate me, as her husband's illegitimate child. Also, she had the welfare of her three offspring to advance if she could not gain the throne for herself.
    Abas seemed to be the queen's favorite—after herself, of course—but he obviously wasn't going to make any move that his mother hadn't previously approved.
    That left Wulfgar and Kenric, both clearly troublemakers.
    I based my decision on something totally frivolous: Kenric was dressed all in black. That might have been a heavy-handed hint on Rasmussem's part that he was the villain, or it might have meant that—with his dark hair and light eyes—he knew he looked good in black. On the other hand, it might mean that he was in mourning. If so, he was the only one. I didn't know anything about King Cynric, whether he'd been a just king or a loving husband or a kind father. But so far nobody had said a word about the poor guy being dead except in how it related to the succession to the throne.
    "Kenric!" I called. I don't know what I'd have done if he'd ignored me, but he waited for me to catch up as the others moved on without us.
    Still, he didn't look happy. He had no reason to trust me any more than I trusted him.
    We were standing by one of the gates leading outside, with sunlight and the chirping of birds and a soft breeze that carried the scent of lavender, as though nature wanted to rub in the idea that I'd imagined or made up the storm.
    "Are there wizards that live nearby?" I asked.
    From his expression, it was a dumb question. From his expression, everybody knew. Kenric crossed his arms over his chest. "Xenos and Uldemar."
    "Well," I said, "apparently one of them magically created a storm that I and only I could see."
    "Uh-huh," he said. "Why?"
    "I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe to make me look like a crazy person."
    "Uh-huh," Kenric said again. "That you did." But he looked more amused than angry now, which I suppose was a step in the right direction.
    Before I could ask if
he
could think of any reason one of the wizards might have called up the storm, there was a commotion in the courtyard. Two guards in chain mail were dragging along a boy who couldn't have been any older than nine or ten. The boy was crying and trying to squirm away, and the guards were not being gentle about holding firm. "Prince Kenric," one of the men called out, "and, uh, Princess Justine..."
    "Janine," I corrected.
    The man shrugged, like
What's the big deal? Didn't I get it mostly right?
He was looking at Kenric as the person in charge, not me, and no doubt considered himself extremely gracious for even acknowledging me. "We caught this boy poaching. He killed a deer. The usual punishment?"
    Kenric opened his mouth to answer, then turned to me. "I don't know. Janine?" His voice and manner dripped with innocence. "What do you think, the usual?"
    One thing I was certain of: He wasn't asking for advice; he was testing. "What's the usual?" I asked, ignoring the answer the Rasmussem program was prodding forward from my subconscious.
    "First-time offense for poaching small game might be branding or to have his hand cut of£" Kenric told me. "For deer, it's the death penalty."
    "No," the boy whimpered. "I didn't do nothing. I found 'im dead already. I was dressing 'im down so's the meat wouldn't go to waste, but I didn't kill 'im."
    Kenric was watching me appraisingly.
    I said, "The boy says he didn't do it."
    "Of course he does," Kenric said.
    I looked at the boy, all ragged clothes and tear-streaked, with his bones showing under his dirty skin. "Did you see him kill the deer?" I asked the guards.
    "No," said the one who was doing all the talking, "but look at his hands." They were bloody to the elbows.
    "He already admitted to dressing down the