The Queen's Line (Inheritance of Hunger #1) - Kathryn Moon Page 0,90
Prudence said. She had a bound notebook in her lap and scribbled there with a fountain pen.
I stared at the princess, waiting for her to speak the mind she'd so readily laid out the day before. Instead, she looked happy to let the others lead the conversation. She appeared to be the same woman, still petite and pretty, still flushed with pleasure, but all the iron had melted away overnight.
"I can get the word out in Rumsbrooke," I offered, catching the princess's eye.
"Musicians too," Wendell said, perking up.
That was it, just the briefest glance. Looking at the princess's small collection of Chosen, I wondered if I needed to shave my beard to catch her eye, or if Lord Roderick needed to find another candidate. Women usually noticed me, and Roderick had perhaps mistakenly assumed that the princess's Hunger would manage the work of setting the bait to have me in her ear.
"Daniel and I will speak to the farmers and choose a date for the festival once the fields are cleared," Lady Prudence said.
"Before the harvest!" Princess Bryony sat up abruptly in her seat, blushing a little and pressing her lips together before continuing. "I think…I think it might be nice if it were before. Like a good luck charm."
"Before then," Lady Prudence said with an indulgent smile, turning to me. "We'll work quickly."
"At Your Highness's pleasure," I said, bending in my seat and then preparing to stand.
"Stay, we've interrupted your breakfast. You deserve a share of ours," the princess said.
It was sweetly spoken, although delivered in equal share to Lady Prudence, and I wasn't sure if I should take her in earnest or not. You should charm her, Lord Roderick's voice hissed. But with a quick survey around the table, seeing the suspicion on the Chosen's face, and Lady Prudence helping herself to a cup of tea that had clearly been set out for her long before my arrival, I shook my head.
"I'll ride out and look for a suitable location," I said. "The start of the harvest season isn't far from now. Better to begin now. Your Highness.” I bowed as I stood and heard the soft hum of acknowledgement.
There would be time to try and seduce her soon. She'd made it clear that she didn't trust the council, and the best remedy might be to go about the actual work of being a steward.
Besides, it was the only part of this arrangement with the council I actually liked.
Three days back and forth, up and down the mountain, and the festival was set for two weeks away. It would still feel like summer in the fields, but Princess Bryony would fall out of her small favor if she asked the farmers to delay the harvests.
I saw her in brief moments, and usually in the company of Lady Prudence: with the announcement that I'd found a village commons that was central and could host the festivities, to tell her that a local leader had been more than happy to take up the organization of vendors who were piling up quickly now that the word was out, to inform her that her particularly requested private tents would be prepared.
Every visit involved waiting outside a door under the glowering stare of the Head of the Royal Guard, before being admitted in to find a rumpled princess and a disheveled man. But it was only ever Owen or Cosmo, which would be an interesting fact to share with Jonathon later.
I marched now toward the training room, smirking slightly at the guard's dark stare at my approach. He and I should've been friends, I thought. He looked like someone's bastard too, although probably not one who would get to inherit his father's estate. Not that mine had been worth anything but a title no one felt the need to grant me.
I heard the grunts from within the room first, not unfamiliar, but then an unexpected crash of metal on metal. My steps nearly stumbled as the guard opened the door to me rather than making me wait, and my eyes widened as I took in the scene inside.
Not love-making but sword-fighting. I stared, paused in the doorway, as I watched Princess Bryony snarl and swing a sword in Prince Thao's direction, his own quick to block her blade. The weapons were unfamiliar, longer and broader than a Kimmerian fencing sword, and their fighting was more fluid in movement.
Well, Thao was fluid. Bryony stumbled back at the force of contact, a gasp on the