Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

waist with a sharp leather belt that would’ve
matched his dark black boots had they not been caked in dust and
mud. This was Lord Kingsley Falls, The King of Aberdour, Watchman
of the East, Servant of the Northern Province, and a dozen other
glorious sounding names that Brayden had never cared about.
    Kingsley looked up when Brayden and Pick
entered the glade, his bright tawny eyes narrowing to slits against
the folds of his smile. His dark wavy hair, pulled back from his
face, hung in a loose ponytail against the deep blue of his long
cape. “The mighty warrior enters,” he said.
    “No, that’s just Pick,” quipped one of the
men in Kingsley’s entourage, Khalous Marloch, the captain of the
King’s Shield and a hard looking man if there ever was one.
    A few of the other men in the group
laughed.
    “Khalous tells me that a pair of partridges
are nesting to the west,” Kingsley said, “an owl to the east, and a
few deer in the fields south of us. Your choice, my boy.”
    Relieved his father wasn’t upset with him
for being late, Brayden rested his hands on the grip of his saddle
and tried not to look as uneasy as he felt.
    “An owl came to my room this morning,” he
said. “It perched on my window. Looked me right in the eye.”
    Khalous shook his head. “Bad omen having a
bird look at you like that. Bad enough just to have one in your
room.” He scratched his iron colored hair that was drawn back from
his retreating hairline into a mangled plait that hung just passed
his neck.
    “And an owl at that,” said Fierdrick,
another member of Kingsley’s personal bodyguard.
    “I’m not afraid of an owl,” Brayden said,
though, truthfully, the memory of the owl sitting in his window had
haunted him since he woke up.
    “That’s a good lad,” said Khalous, a smile
cracking his otherwise gaunt visage. “Fearless. You’ll be a mighty
hunter some day.”
    Brayden had a sense that wasn’t true. Deep
down he had always felt like the stern captain was disappointed in
him, like he saw the flaws in Brayden’s character that his father
overlooked.
    Kingsley smiled. “Shall we hunt him
down?”
    Looking east, Brayden hesitated. “I don’t
like owls,” he said, curling his lip as though the thought of owl
meat repulsed him. “Partridge stew is better.”
    Khalous lifted a thick, worn hand to his
stomach and closed his eyes. “Ah, the dreams I have about Lady
Lilyanna’s partridge stew.” His fingers drummed on his small
gut.
    Kingsley lifted a questioning eyebrow. “I’m
not sure I like you dreaming about my wife’s stew.”
    “Oh, it’s marvelous stew!” Khalous said. “I
bet there’s not another queen in the realm that can match her
stew.”
    “I bet there’s not another queen in the
realm who can cook at all,” Pick said.
    The banter continued as the men steered
their horses west, toward the nesting quail.
    Brayden lingered behind, reluctant to
follow.
    Pick turned his horse around and sauntered
up next to him. “What’s the matter, young master? Still waking
up?”
    “I hate hunting,” Brayden said. “It’s
servant’s work.”
    “And who calls it servant’s work?”
    Brayden shrugged. He didn’t actually believe
what he’d said. He was just too afraid to admit the truth. “I just
hate it.”
    Pick flopped his hands over each other on
his saddle. “Did you know what your grandfather—may he slumber in
peace—enjoyed doing most?”
    “Using his bow. Everyone knows that. He had
the best aim in the realm before the stiffness took his hands.”
    “And do you know what your father hated to
do the most when he was your age?”
    Brayden offered a guess, “Using his
bow.”
    “Your father hated using a bow, but his
father, your grandfather, loved it. And what does your father love
doing that you hate?”
    “Let me guess. Hunting.”
    “And do you know what makes your father such
a good hunter?”
    Brayden waited for the answer, even though
he knew what it was.
    “His skills with a