Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy #1) - Rachel Higginson Page 0,87

the windows, cawing and screaming to each other.

The air smelled of bloodshed and despair, but something more this time. There was smoke drifting from across the corridor, curls of wispy black floating from a cracked doorway. There was a spicy thickness to it that felt vaguely familiar.

A raven landed on my father’s chest, holding my gaze before snapping its beak down to peck at his eyes. I screamed when a figure appeared in the doorway, framed by smoke. The incense began choking me. My screams faded into coughs. I doubled over, desperate for clean air.

I watched boots move toward me. I lifted my head, determined to find the identity of my family’s murderer. Instead, blinding light flashed through the room, covering the bodies on the ground and causing the birds to flee. The boots shifted backward, retreating from the bright light, and before I could brace for it to hit me, I woke, startled and covered in sweat.

I lay on my back, clutching at the sheets while Shiksa moved to my chest so she could lick my chin. I shivered and pulled her into the nook of my arm, trying to hold on to the slipping fragments of my dream.

That strange scent filled my head again and when I inhaled I could have sworn I smelled it in my room. I lifted my head and looked around. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but there was nothing to see. No smoke-filled doorways, or dead loved ones. And yet I had the sense that I was not alone.

I lay awake for quite a while before I found sleep again. And when at last I drifted away, I had the strangest desire for Cavolian stew.

The next day, breakfast was brought to my room by Matilda, my servant from Soravale. She was to attend me through the trial. I was grateful for a familiar face.

When the afternoon meal was brought, I was informed that I would be joining my uncle for supper. Conandra or not, Crenshaw explained, King Tyrn was both benevolent and gracious. It would be an honor for me to dine with him.

I didn’t believe a word of it.

I accepted the invitation because I had no other choice, but also, I wanted to spend time with my uncle. I wanted to look into his eyes and see the exact shade of his darkness.

If he had weaknesses, I would find them. If he had secrets, I would discover them. If he wanted to treat my claim to the throne as treason, then I would treat his in the same way.

Matilda had called for my trunks to be delivered first thing in the morning. By the time Crenshaw appeared to escort me to supper, she had dressed me in my finest Soravalian gown and styled my hair with extra care.

Crenshaw’s ugly, narrow face poked into the room without knocking. Instant fury boiled beneath my skin. His behavior was deplorable. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

I followed him from the room, marching behind him like a prisoner. I could have found my way to the dining room without help. Despite the length of my absence, my familiarity with the palace returned swiftly.

When we reached the dining hall, white doors with golden swirls were pushed open and a herald announced my arrival. To my surprise, my uncle stood from where he sat at the head of an elaborate table.

Tyrn was not alone, but I recognized no one that sat with him. Three other men stood at my appearance, but the only woman remained seated.

My uncle’s face pinched in a sneer as he said, “My long-lost niece, please join us.”

I moved around Crenshaw to take my place across from my uncle. I was not naïve enough to believe this place had been set in my honor. It was given to me more out of mockery than anything else.

No one spoke until the first course, a cold root soup with clotted cream, had been served. Without a word, Tyrn took a bite, giving the rest of us permission to eat. I reached for my spoon, willing my fingers to stop trembling. As I took my first sip, I felt my uncle’s stare boring into me.

“My advisors,” Tyrn announced at last. “Lord Berwick and Lord Glaust,” he nodded to my right at two pompous looking men. To the man to my left, he said, “My first general, General Leffenmore. And his wife, Lady Leffenmore.”

I placed my spoon in my soup and nodded, “It is an honor to dine with