The Grace of Kings Read Online Free PDF Page A

himself, Phin had never paid much attention to the wailing bundle that was his newborn nephew. This was the first time he had realized Mata’s condition.
    Phin moved his hand in front of the baby, uncertain if he was blind. Mata’s eyes did not move, but then the baby turned and focused his eyes on Phin’s.
    Among the double-pupiled, a rare few had the sight of an eagle, and it was said that they were destined for greatness.
    Relieved, Phin held the baby against his chest, against his thundering heart, and after a moment, a teardrop, hot as blood, fell from Phin’s eyes onto Mata’s face. The baby began to cry.
    Phin bent down and touched his forehead to the baby’s. The gesture calmed the child. Phin whispered, “We have only each other now. Don’t let what has been done to our family pass into oblivion. Do not forget. ”
    The baby seemed to understand. He struggled to free his tiny arms from the flag wrapped around him, raised them toward Phin, and clenched his fists.
    Phin lifted his face to the sky and laughed into the falling snow. He carefully covered the baby’s face with the flag again and walked away from the castle.

    Mata’s frown reminded Phin of Dazu Zyndu’s serious mien while deep in thought. Mata’s smile was a replica of the smile of Soto, Phin’s dead sister, when she ran around the garden as a child. Mata’s sleeping face had the same serenity as Phin’s older brother, Shiru, who had always told Phin to be more patient.
    Gazing at Mata, Phin understood why he had been spared. The little boy was the last and brightest chrysanthemum blossom at the tip of the noble tree formed by generations of the Zyndu Clan. Phin vowed to Kana and Rapa, the twin goddesses of Cocru, that he would do everything in his power to nurture and protect Mata.
    And he would make his heart cold and his blood hot, like icy Rapa and fiery Kana. For the sake of Mata, he would learn to become hard and sharp instead of pampered and soft. In vengeance, even a rabbit can learn to become a wolf.
    Phin had to rely on occasional handouts from loyalist families who sympathized with the plight of the Zyndu Clan until he killed two thieves sleeping in a field and took their loot, which he then invested in a little farm outside Farun. There, he taught Mata to fish, to hunt, and to fight with a sword, after learning those skills himself under the severe tutelage of trial-and-error: The first time he shot a deer, he vomited at the sight of blood; the first time he swung a sword, he almost cut off his own foot. He cursed himself again and again for how he had luxuriated in his former life of ease and learned nothing of use.
    The weight of the responsibility he undertook had turned his hair gray by the time he was twenty-five. Often, he sat alone at night outside their shack, after his little nephew had fallen asleep. Haunted by the memory of his weakness years ago, he brooded over whether he was doing enough, was even capable of doing enough, to set Mata on the right path, to pass on the courage and strength, and especially the yearning for glory, that was the boy’s birthright.
    Dazu and Shiru had not wanted the delicate Phin to follow the path of war. They had indulged Phin’s love of literature and art, and look where that had gotten him. In a moment when the family needed him, Phin had been powerless, had been a coward who brought shame to the family name.
    So he locked away memories of the kind words of Shiru and the gentleness of Dazu. Instead, he gave Mata a childhood that he thought they would have wanted. Whenever Mata hurt himself as all children did, Phin forced himself to refuse the boy any comfort until Mata learned that crying was useless. Whenever Mata fought with another boy from the town, Phin insisted that he press on until he emerged victorious. Phin never tolerated signs of weakness in the child and taught Mata to welcome every conflict as a chance to prove