Waking in Dreamland Read Online Free PDF

daughter from forming an inappropriate liaison. When Leonora appeared in court or on state occasions with her father, she was on a pedestal, too far above for anyone to touch her.
    Roan performed his tasks as well as he was able, never shirked an assignment, no matter how dangerous, and he always came back to Mnemosyne. He didn’t know if the latter dismayed the king or pleased him. The princess had always appeared to be pleased.
    Leonora seemed to be amused by both her father’s obduracy and her suitor’s willingness to go along with the king’s whims. Roan sometimes wondered if she wasn’t putting him to some kind of test, too. Roan gave the small throne a final wry look. He hoped he’d know when, if, he passed. He caught Thomasen looking at him with a familiar, fond paternal smile. Reluctantly, he pulled his thoughts back to the present, away from past and future.
    “Tell me, what’s all today’s fuss about?” Roan asked, moving closer to his father. The historians had gone back to muttering and spitting among themselves. Thomasen blew through his lips, a suggestion of the camel returning to his face.
    “Pah! The usual doo-dah about improbable nonsense,” Thomasen said. “Rumor has it Carodil has the king’s ear, leaving the rest of us doing an elaborate kind of mime, so far as His Majesty’s concerned. I say the king keeps things well in balance. He’s just hearing the other side for a change, but for historians they’re remarkably reluctant to understand that facet of perspective.”
    “No one likes having his ideas ignored,” Roan said, tilting his head humorously.
    “Mmh!”
    They were interrupted by a blare of trumpets. The herald, a stout man resplendent in seafoam green silk velvet and a remarkable hat that wound around and around his head like a snail shell, stalked out before the trumpeters.
    “My lords and ladies, all rise! By gracious whim of their Creative Eminences, the Sleepers, His Ephemeral Majesty, Byron, King of Dreams!”
    As everyone was already standing, little attention was paid to the herald’s command, but everyone turned to face the dais.

Chapter 3

    “Silence in the courtroom!” the parrots screamed. They were quelled by a sharp look from the herald. The white silk curtains at the front of the room were swept aside, and the king entered. He wore flowing, white silk robes and a turban with a huge, shining green cabochon on the feathered aigrette at the front. No matter what face he wore, the King of the Dreamland was kingly. The bones of his jaw, cheek, and brow showed the underlying strength of a noble countenance. Beneath distinct, dark brows shone deep blue eyes that moved to meet those of everyone in the room. King Byron smiled at old friends, faithful courtiers, and beloved servants of the court. The bright gaze settled momentarily on Roan, and the brows rose in pleased surprise. Roan, feeling honored by such a friendly reception, bowed deeply. Perhaps the king had been giving some favorable consideration to his suit for Leonora’s hand. By the time Roan straightened up with the question in his eyes, the king’s attention had shifted to the next man, leaving Roan wondering. Perhaps, since his news was good, Roan would request a brief personal interview later, to see how his fortunes stood.
    King Byron settled himself, sitting upright as he could on piled cushions in a throne that had changed from marble to elaborately carved gold.
    “I am happy to see everyone here,” he said. “Everyone is well, I trust?”
    In answer, there were affirmative murmurs and bows. The herald cleared his throat again and bellowed. “My lords and ladies, Her Benevolent Majesty, the Queen!”
    Attended by a host of noblewomen and doctors, the queen made her way to her throne, and sat down in it delicately. Rumor had had it for many years that Queen Harmonia suffered from a mysterious malady, but not even the most ardent gossips could wrench details from her medical advisors. Roan himself