Too Many Princes Read Online Free PDF Page A

with gold. Brastigan glanced at his father, and then quickly looked away. It wouldn't do for him to be seen wearing such an unfilial expression of contempt.
    King Unferth lived well, as everyone knew. It showed. His beard was still golden, but it flowed down over a belly that strained against the fabric of his purple tunic. His face was red, and he sipped frequently from a golden cup. Still, the old man's eyes were keen as he watched the guildman making his presentation before the thrones. They were bright blue, like Habrok's. His crown was a band of beaten gold, etched with the symbols of his various provinces. As Brastigan looked again, Unferth shifted the coronet. He rubbed his temples briefly, as if the weight troubled him.
    Beside him was Queen Alustra, his first lady in name only. She was a plump woman, dressed in a brilliant blue gown with the huge sleeves and upstanding collar of the Tanixan style. It was an unfortunate choice. Instead of making her look young, as she doubtless intended, the over - done garb only emphasized that she was aging. Alustra's crown wasn't permitted to outshine the king's, but she made up the lack with a jeweled net covering her pale hair. Queen Alustra sat very straight. She, too, paid close attention to the prating merchant. Unlike King Unferth, she seemed to actively enjoy sitting on a throne, in the eyes of all the watchers. She often, and ostentatiously, advised her husband on matters of state.
    Near Alustra, Brastigan glimpsed two of her children. Therula loitered near Unferth's chair, eyeing Brastigan and Lottres with curiosity and a trace of concern. Closer to Alustra as another of Brastigan's unloved ones. Oskar, her only son, strolled through the first rank of courtiers with a self-satisfied air. As Unferth's legitimate heir, Crown Prince Oskar had a clear advantage over his baggle of brothers. He was fair enough in his dealings with them, but with a condescending kindliness that made Brastigan grit his teeth and gag. He knew he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Brastigan might not have much in common with most of his siblings, but they could at lease trade jibes or ride together. Oskar, he just stayed away from.
    Today, it was hard to miss him. For one thing, Oskar's pacing created a constant swirl of movement that drew the eye. For another, he was garbed in a doublet of dark red velvet that made him seem to smo u lder in the sunlight from the windows. The big shoulders looked swollen, Brastigan thought sourly, and the doublet was short enough to show a bit too much leg clad in black hose. His red velvet shoes had toes that curled absurdly upward.
    Oskar was handsome enough, so the ladies said, with the sleek look of a well-fed feline. He accepted the flattery of the court with smug aplomb, but his eyes were like his mother's: heartless and cold. Like a cat, he felt no true affection for anyone but himself. Brastigan had good reason to know that.
    How much longer would the idiot tradesman drone on? Brastigan held his place with difficulty. Why had they been summoned, if they weren't wanted?
    Lottres must have sensed his agitation, for he murmured, “ It won't be long now. ”
    “ Will that be before I've died of old age? ” Brastigan hissed back.
    He tried to keep his voice down, but the queen turned her head. Their eyes met, and her expression hardened into a familiar, prudish sniff. Moving her lips as little as possible, she mouthed a few words to her husband. As Therula watched, Unferth briefly glanced toward them and then returned his gaze to the petitioner before him.
    The dark prince stiffened, stung by the slighting appraisal. It was all he could do not to turn and stalk out. Why, if the old man weren't king... But he was, and even Brastigan knew better to ignore his summons, however much the old man ignored him. So he waited, and fumed, and it seemed an eternity before the guildman finished his over worded and pompous request for an exemption from some tax or other.