A Curse on the Mountain by Missouri Dalton

Author:Missouri Dalton [Dalton, Missouri]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2014-12-13T00:00:00+00:00

THE KING’S spymaster was a clothes fiend. He particularly loved the lacy fashions popular in Torin but had not the figure for them. His hair was receding, his once-muscular body going to seed. But it was not for appearance that he was useful; his mind was his greatest asset.

“We want Myr watched closely. Do you understand, Lord Gregorus?” His Majesty, the King of Eldore, intoned bombastically.

The spymaster bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Eventually one of them will get too close to the fire—Lord Ryall, Myr, or perhaps their precious daughter. You would like her. We will make sure they get burned.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” One could almost see the wheels turning in Gregorus’s head, thinking of the tortures he could use if he caught one of them. The man had an unholy love for torture. “Lord Roderick was found dead.”

“I know,” Iudas growled. “And if there was evidence that any of them had touched the body, it has since been destroyed by the ineptitude of the Guard and those damn carrion birds.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Dismissed.” Lord Gregorus bowed again and retreated.

The queen watched from her seat just below the king’s throne. She’d been dressed in yellow today, to match the tile. She quite nearly blended in. There was an embroidery panel in her lap, yellow flowers picked out in silk against white linen. “You have something to say?” he asked.

“Our son will return soon.” She made a stitch, completing the petal of one flower. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, a tight spiraled braid of black entwined around a silver circlet set with dozens of glistening diamonds. She had a quiet beauty about her, tempered by an edge of danger in the way she held her needle. Younger than the king, she’d given him three children, all boys. The queen loathed her king but had had no recourse but to stay. He had her children, and her presence assured he would not do horrible things to any other members of her family.

“Of course. We shall hold a ball for his return.”

She nodded. “Oh yes, a ball will certainly convince the son you turned away for seven long years to love you once more.”

He laughed. “He can hate me all he likes, just as you do. It will not make him king any faster.”

She nodded. “If he dies, I will kill you, and the consequences be damned.”

“You can try.” She met his eyes. Her eyes were almost always lowered, so no one could see that they were the color of blood, slit like a ’dile’s. The queen was not Eldoran, but Ruvi by heritage. Her yellow dress did not particularly complement her golden skin, but her seamstress was a vindictive creature with no love for the Ruvi.

“You think, my lady Tsura, I would let you kill me?”

“You do not think. Or you would recall that it is not about you letting me.” She laid down the needle and folded her hands. The queen always wore gloves. They were yellow today, to match her gown. One was embroidered with a touch of white flowers, but the other, on her left hand had black.

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