Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy #1) - Rachel Higginson Page 0,1

table kneading dough for lunch. Father Salo stood next to him, chopping vegetables for some variation of the stew served at every meal. The monks were a fastidious people. Routine was as much a part of their religion as the light they worshiped.

I thrust my hands toward the fire and inhaled the scent of embers and boiling oats. I closed my eyes and let the heat wash over me. I would smell like a fire pit for the rest of the day, but I didn’t care. Anything to chase away the cold.

A tongue clucked from behind me and I took a step back. I glanced over my shoulder to see Father Terosh wiggle his finger at me. Step back. You’ll burn your dress, he silently warned with a pointed look.

You’ll catch aflame and become a fire-breathing dragon forced to take to the skies to escape the rioting villagers.

Admittedly, that last thought was mine.

Father Salo clucked his tongue next. Even without looking at me, I knew he was shooing me away. I stepped back from the fire and grabbed an apple. I’d been on an oats strike for two years now. The monks were impressed with my firm stance. Or disgusted. I wasn’t sure which. But since their vow of silence spanned decades, I had a feeling they appreciated my stubborn conviction.

I sank my teeth into the juicy flesh of the fruit and hurried from the warm kitchen back to the stark bite of the hallways, whose constant twists and turns I could navigate with my eyes shut.

When they had first brought me here, I hadn’t been well. I couldn’t manage to sleep for more than an hour at a time. Afraid of the thoughts that swirled around my ever-active mind, I wandered the temple in search of peace and the kind of silence that escaped me even in a silence-vowed monastery.

I never found it.

But I did eventually settle in enough to sleep through the night.

It had taken three years.

Through the open library door on the top floor, light spilled into the hallway. This was my favorite space on the grounds.

I stepped to the side of the Tenovian black cedar doors and traced the outline of a three-headed serpent wrapped around textured scrolls and elegant script I didn’t understand. I reached higher to finger the hilt of a powerful sword, the tip fashioned like a quill, and ink like blood dripping from the blade.

The Brotherhood of Silence took great pride in the library they protected beyond these doors.

A tongue clicked from inside the room and I stepped inside, knowing I had dallied long enough.

Father Garius stood waiting for me with a disapproving furrow to his bushy eyebrows. His hands were clasped in front of him, giving him the façade of patience and understanding, even while I knew it took everything inside him to honor his vows and not shout at me for wasting his time. Again.

When I first came here, Father Garius would communicate with me through scrawled notes. But after eight years, I had learned to read facial expressions and silently spoken thoughts. The monks’ expressions were not nearly as serene and stoic as they thought they were.

“Good morning, Father Garius,” I chirped. “Did you sleep well?” I never tired of asking the countless questions that tumbled through my head. Even if I did nothing more than infuriate mute monks, I needed to speak them aloud, free my mind of their constant nagging.

He tapped his foot in response. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. Oliver already sat at the scholar’s desk, writing furiously with his quill. He didn’t spare me a glance as I took my seat next to him.

I picked up my quill and read today’s lesson to myself.

Father Garius moved to stand in front of us. He stood silent sentry throughout our lesson, watching us intently and sending nasty scowls when we turned away from our work.

By the time my morning lesson was finished, my fingers ached from writing, my vision blurred from staring at so many words, and my backside had numbed to the digging curves of the stool.

Father Garius stepped back, a sign that we were allowed a break. I moved at once to the large windows that overlooked the tumbling orchards along the western side. The horizon nestled behind them, obscured by the tips of white-capped mountains and a sun shining its light on every part of Heprin.

Heprin was the eastern most kingdom in the realm. Bordered on two sides by the