The Green Knight (Space Lore Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

hand on the doctor’s shoulder to stop him in place.
    “How is he?” Hotspur asked, his eyes red. Having just arrived back on the planet, he was tired and more irritable than usual.
    “Our lord does not have much time,” the doctor said quietly, his eyes looking straight down at his feet.
    “How much time?”
    “Maybe a week.”
    “Maybe?” Hotspur said, his fingers curling to take hold of the doctor’s uniform. If he were on his Solar Carrier and one of his men responded with “maybe,” it would be the end of a career.
    The physician was unsuccessful in pulling away from Hotspur’s grip. Resigned, he said, “The king is a fighter. The sickness would have already killed lesser men. But I cannot be sure how much longer he can fight it.”
    Hotspur took a deep breath, then released the other man’s shirt and watched him hobble quickly down the hallway.
    Lady Percy, the king’s wife, spoke to her son, who didn’t bother to push the curls of blond hair away from his eyes so he could see her speak. Without saying anything else, she excused herself, passing by Hotspur without acknowledging him. Only when Modred was by himself, over the body of his stepfather, did Hotspur step forward.
    “How soon until the Vonnegan fleet arrives?” Modred asked, finally moving curls of bushy hair away from his eyes and resting his body against the side of one of the columns.
    “One hundred and sixty-five hours.”
    There were many reactions Hotspur might have expected from Modred. He could have asked how their own fleet was preparing. He could have asked if the defenses were ready. He could have become panicked or he could have stomped his foot and said it would be a good day for killing once Mowbray’s fleet did finally arrive.
    Instead, Modred laughed. He laughed!
    Hotspur’s eyes narrowed at the young man’s insolence. Any other person in the kingdom, except for the king and Hotspur’s own family, would be dead right now. Without even realizing he had done so, his fingers had tightened and were ready to crush bones. He was so angry he almost felt bad for the first person he would see upon leaving the king’s quarters.
    “One hundred and sixty-five hours?” Modred asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Not one hundred and sixty-four or one hundred and sixty-six?”
    “No.”
    Modred stopped laughing then, seeing he was pushing his luck. Hotspur worked for him, but it was only the two of them in this room—in his current state the king would never know what was being said or done. He saw from the way Hotspur’s hands were clenched that he was envisioning a gruesome death.
    “Very good,” Modred said, clearing his throat and attempting to adopt a serious tone. “Why so long?”
    “So long?”
    “There are countless portals in their kingdom, just as there are in ours. Their fleet could jump from one portal to another, then to another, and be at our doorstep in a few hours.”
    “They entered our space at the Troy portal.”
    “Where the attack took place?”
    “Yes.”
    “And?”
    “And,” Hotspur said, looking out the window at the sky and all the infinite number of stars that could be seen in the distance, “they are traveling through normal space to get here and avoiding all of the portals.”
    “Why?”
    “I think they want to send a message on their way here.”
    Modred chuckled again, and Hotspur swore to himself that if the blond bastard laughed one more time during this conversation he would take his life right there, king’s stepson or not.
    Modred patted Hotspur on the shoulder. When he did, a dull thud sounded. Hotspur seemed not to notice. “Well,” said Modred, “I’m sure you’ll have the fleet ready when they do arrive.”
    Without waiting for a response, Modred left the king’s chambers, leaving Hotspur alone with his deathly ill king.
    For the first time since carrying out the attack on the Ornewllian Compact, Hotspur wondered how his king had been healthy enough to give the fateful orders. None of