Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy #1) - Rachel Higginson Page 0,90

was curled up on my lap, snoring lazily, when Matilda charged into the room, her hands waving wildly. “They’re here!” she squealed. “They’ve come!”

I jumped to my feet, ready to retrieve the sword I kept handy. “Who? Who’s here?”

She ran over to me and with two hands pushed my shoulders until I sat again. I tried to stand up. She applied a surprisingly heavy amount of pressure.

“Sit!” she ordered. “They’re here! And what if they want to see you now? And you look like this? I cannot have you looking like this if you’re going to leave this room!”

“What do I look like?”

I looked down at the nightgown I hadn’t bothered to take off. I’d promised myself a bath at some point today, I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. But I’d brushed my hair this morning.

Or was that yesterday morning?

“Ouch!” I tried to squirm from Matilda’s grasp, but she held on tightly by tangling the brush in my impossible hair.

“Your hair looks like your fox’s nest. Now sit down so I can make you presentable for the kings and queens.”

“They’re here?” I gasped.

She harrumphed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

I tried to sit still, but I was too agitated. “Have you seen them?” I asked breathlessly. My heart took off in a gallop as I realized that the moment I had been equally dreading and anticipating was here. I could finally face the council and explain everything. And they could finally decide my fate.

Whatever that might be.

My stomach curdled and I thought I might be sick. My uncle had promised to punish me if I lost Conandra. Grief struck at my heart every time I remembered his cruelty to me.

I tried to imagine myself in his shoes, if I had been the one to rule after I had lost everyone I loved, and then someone I thought was dead suddenly showed up at my doorstep.

Wouldn’t I be skeptical? Wouldn’t I harbor ill will against the person trying to take the only thing I had left of my dead family?

But there was more to my uncle than careful skepticism. Instinct told me that he believed I was who I said I was.

It wasn’t doubt that made him behave this way. It was greed for the throne he occupied and the Crown of Nine.

Matilda jerked the brush through the end of my copper colored curls and I nearly cursed at her. “I haven’t seen them,” she said. “I just overheard one of the footmen rushing to tell the herald that carriages were seen in town.”

“How many carriages? Are they all here?”

“Cannot say. But I doubt it. With all eight of ‘em en route, they couldn’t possibly arrive at once. Could they?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember what little education I’d had as a child. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Soravale, Tenovia, and Barstus will be the closest. Then Kasha, Aramore, and Vorestra. Heprin and Blackthorne are the farthest away. It will take them at least another three days. Depending on the pace of their travel, probably longer.”

My heart pounded with possibilities. I only had maybe a week left before Conandra began.

What then? Would they believe me? Would they also mistake me for the ghost of my mother?

That reminded me. “Matilda, have you heard that this castle is haunted?”

Her hands stilled in my hair. “Aye, I’ve heard that. But where did you hear such nonsense?”

“The guards,” I admitted shamelessly. “They thought I was trying to escape when Shiksa knocked over a tea service the other day. I told them it was a ghost and they believed me. Don’t you find it strange that royal guards would believe in ghosts? And not just believe, but be truly afraid?”

“I don’t know about that. I doubt they were afraid; more likely they were anxious to call a chambermaid is all.”

I spun around, interrupting her work. “Matilda, they fled. I don’t know how else to describe it. I suggested a ghost to entertain myself and the three of them practically ran from the room.”

She snapped her fingers and I turned back around so she could finish her work. “I’ve heard them speak about such things around the castle. There are rooms they believe to be haunted and they avoid them when they can. I’ve heard them speaking of things being moved, tables and chairs and candles and whatnot, but usually they’re more vexed than afraid. It is a strange thing. I’ve never seen a staff so concerned with ghosts and