Wings of Wrath Read Online Free PDF Page B

their feet was bleak and barren as far as the eye could see; only the single castle that looked over it, and the stark mountains to the north, broke the rhythm of the landscape.
    Standing alone atop the building’s highest tower, wrapping her arms against the sudden chill of the evening breeze, Gwynofar remembered when the forest had burned. Kostas had started the fire—Kostas, that vile creature posing as a Magister who had stepped in to counsel her husband when Ramirus had left them—and then ordered all of Danton’s servants to let it burn to its natural end. For three days and nights the sky had spewed forth ash in furious waves, a foul and unnatural storm. At the time Gwynofar had thought the fire no more than an act of spite, meant to strangle her heart with sorrow so that she would be more easily manipulated. Perhaps, she had reasoned later, Kostas had wanted her to hate him so blindly that she would not wonder at the strange supernatural chill that ran up her spine any time he entered a room. But no, even that was not enough to explain it. No matter how much she added up the pieces of the puzzle now, it was still not enough. Kostas had served a Souleater. Souleaters fed upon life. What did either of them stand to gain from such utter devastation? Surely her own discomfort, no matter how pleasing it was to him, was not enough to explain what he had done.
    There was another piece of the puzzle somewhere. All the instincts in her lyr soul told her that it mattered. She had to find it.
    â€œYour Majesty?”
    The voice was familiar to her, a memory from a better time. She turned toward its owner with an ache in her heart. Would that things could go back to the way they were a year ago, she thought. Would that the gods had not decided to test us so cruelly . “Ramirus.”
    The ancient Magister bowed his head ever so slightly; his flowing white beard stirred in the evening breeze. “I promised you I would come.”
    She sighed heavily. For a moment words deserted her.
    â€œI take it things did not go well?”
    She looked out over the landscape once more. “He means to hold his coronation here, Ramirus. He said that Danton’s ruined forest will serve as a reminder to both men and monarchs that life is but a fleeting thing, and that the same gods who created the earth can also destroy it.”
    â€œAh, yes. The creed of the Penitents. A curious tradition.” He came to where she stood, near the outer wall, and gazed out upon the landscape beside her. “You made a strange move, choosing that one to succeed Danton.”
    She did not speak until she was sure she could do so without emotion. “There was no real choice.”
    â€œYou could have left him in the monastery. He might have spent a lifetime happily chanting his prayers and denying himself a woman’s pleasure, and never mourned his lack of temporal power.”
    â€œPerhaps,” she agreed. “Or instead he might have discovered, after a few years of watching his younger brother rule, that there was more to existence than such a sterile plan . . . and then perhaps he would decide that he had been cheated and he would divide the High Kingdom against itself to claim what should have been his by birthright.” She sighed. “My summons was a test. If he had not answered exactly as he had, I would have placed my fourth son on the throne and left Salvator to his strange two-faced god. But Danton’s blood is strong in my second-born. Strong enough that when he heard the call to power he set aside his vows of faith to answer it without hesitation. Do you honestly believe such a man would have remained quietly in the background for his entire life? Do you think Valemar would have been strong enough to contain him?”
    â€œBetter, perhaps, for a woman to claim the throne.”
    She looked at him sharply.
    â€œIt is not unknown in the north,” he pointed out.
    â€œAnd we are not in