Sorrows of Adoration Read Online Free PDF Page A

gentle little
smile that made me blush even more.
    At dusk we found a
great, wide fir tree under which to sleep. The lowest branches
swept the ground at their ends, but were a good deal off the ground
near the trunk. A perfect little shelter, so long as it didn’t snow
and weigh the branches down further. The ground smelled of cold and
pine needles. I wrapped the blanket tightly around myself and
tucked a corner under my cheek so the needles wouldn’t stick my
face as I slept.
    * * *
    We woke early again and
were off, after picking the needles from our hair and blankets.
This new day was a cloudy one, and it was harder to be so cheery
with the threat of possible snow. A cold wind had arrived, and blew
through my clothing unpleasantly.
    We spoke of less jovial
concerns that day, with Jarik occasionally referring to some matter
of politics of which I was usually unaware. I would always ask him
for an explanation, which seemed at first to surprise him, as if he
had expected me not to take an interest in such things. He would
patiently explain the issue to me, never once with a hint of
condescension, and once he realized I was happy to talk about
weighty matters, he began to ask me my thoughts on them. Had he
been smug, I would have been reluctant to offer my opinion, as I
would have feared it would sound silly. But his continued kind and
polite demeanour served as inspiration to discourse, and the talk
was enjoyable even if the subjects were not always cheerful.
    At one point, I asked
him if he knew why someone would want to kill the Prince.
    “There are always those
who wish to do such things,” he said gravely. “It is a fact of
royal life. Are you aware of what Raen of Daufrae attempted several
years ago?”
    I nodded. Everyone in
Alesha knew the story of how the Lord of the small Aleshan city of
Daufrae had been exiled for threats made against King Tarken. Lord
Raen had claimed to be a direct descendant of King Korreg, Tarken’s
great-grandfather. Raen claimed that Korreg had had two sons:
Tarken’s grandfather, King Tursk, and some man named Reshtaen, whom
Raen claimed was his own grandfather. Despite the fact that no
record of such a man existed, Raen asserted that Reshtaen was the
true heir to the throne as the eldest son but was tricked out of
his birthright because he had been born to a poor Aleshan woman
that King Korreg had bedded before his marriage to Queen
Shantakh.
    Raen thus claimed the
throne was rightfully his, and threatened to take it by force if
King Tarken did not acquiesce. Of course, King Tarken dismissed the
man as a fool, but when a cousin of Lord Raen’s was caught trying
to sneak into the palace kitchens with a packet of poison, Raen was
exiled from Keshaerlan. It was said that he escaped execution only
because there was no direct evidence to indicate he had been part
of an assassination plot, and he claimed his right under the law as
a nobleman to be spared execution in the absence of evidence.
    These things were
common knowledge, spoken of in taverns and pubs and inns, and I
knew the story well. “But that was many years ago,” I said.
    “Yes, and it is
certainly unusual for murderous desire to infect a sufficiently
large group to actually present a threat. I do not know what the
cause of this particular group is, but I am sure that the truth
will be revealed once we’re back in Endren.”
    “Why is that?” I
asked.
    “Because any group that
large and that dedicated to murder will have left clues to their
crime along the way. Even if not one of the bandits is captured to
be questioned, the King’s Guard will determine their path and
deduce the rest.”
    “Yes, I suppose if
their behaviour in the pub was any indication, folks in other
places may have overheard their plot as well.”
    Jarik smiled at me in a
way so marked with affection and appreciation that I felt myself
blush. Then he said, “Thankfully, there was at least one brave soul
who did something about what she heard.” I