A March of Kings - By Morgan Rice Page 0,56

Duke.

“Her?” the Duke asked, in shock.

“But she’s a servant girl. Why would you want to know her?” Brandt asked.

Erec stood, electrified, knowing for the first time exactly what he wanted.

“She is the one I want. She is the one I will fight for.”

“Her!?” Brandt asked, stunned, standing beside him.

The Duke stood, too.

“You could choose any woman in the kingdom, on both sides of the Ring. You could choose a princess. A lord’s daughter. A woman with a dowry as wide as the kingdom. And you would choose her? A servant girl?”

But their words hardly phased Erec. He watched, mesmerized, as she fled from the hall, out a side room.

“Where is she going?” he demanded. “I must know.”

“Erec, are you sure about this?” Brandt asked.

“You are making a grave mistake,” the Duke added. “And you would snub all the women here, all of high royalty.”

Erec turned to him, earnest.

“I aim to snub no one,” he answered. “But that is the woman I am going to marry. Will you help me find her?”

The Duke nodded to his attendant, who ran off, on the mission.

He raised a hand and clasped Erec’s shoulder, and broke into a hearty smile.

“It is true what they say about you, my friend. You do not defer to what others think. And that is, I think, what I love about you best.”

The Duke sighed.

“We will find you this servant girl. And we will make a match!”

A cheer rose up around Erec, as others clasped him on his back. But he paid attention to none of it. His mind was only on one thing: that girl. He felt, without a doubt, that he had found the love of his life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Gareth stood there, in his father’s ruling chamber, looking out through the open window over King’s Court, like his father used to love to do. His father used to stroll out, onto the parapets, but Gareth felt no need to do that. He was perfectly happy, standing here, indoors, at the edge of the window, hands clasped loosely behind his back, and looking out over his people from the shadows.

His people. They were his people now. He could hardly believe it.

He stood there, rooted in place, the crown securely on his head as it had been since the ceremony. He would not take it off. He also wore his father’s white and black mantle, even in the summer heat, and clutched in his hand his father’s long, golden scepter. He was beginning to feel like a king—a real king—and he loved the feeling. All his subjects, as he walked, bowed to him. To him, not to his father. It made him feel a rush of adrenaline unlike any he had felt before. All eyes were turned to him, all hours of the day.

He had really done it. He had managed to kill his father, to cover up the crime, and to wipe out all obstacles between him and the kingship. They had all fell for it. And now that they had crowned him, there was no turning back. Now there was nothing they could do to change it.

Yet now that Gareth was King, he scarcely knew what to do. All his life he had dreamt of this moment; now that he’d achieved it, he did not know what was next. His first impression was that being king was lonely. He had stood here, alone in this room for hours, watching the court. Down below, in the lower chambers, his counsel awaited him for a meeting. He had decided to make them wait. In fact, he enjoyed making them wait. He was King, and he could make anyone wait that he wanted to, for as long as he wanted.

As he had stood here, watching over his people, he had pondered how to solidify and secure his power. To start with, he would have Kendrick imprisoned, then, executed. It was too much of a risk to have Kendrick alive, the firstborn, the most loved of his family. He smiled as he thought of the guards already on their way to take Kendrick in.

Then he would have Thor killed. He, too, was a threat, given how close he had been to his father; who knew what his father had told him while on his deathbed? Perhaps he had even identified Firth. Gareth was pleased with himself for setting into motions plans for his assassination; he had wisely paid off a Legion member to do the trick. Once they reached the Isle of Mist,