Crown of Caphedra by Ian Robert Ross

Author:Ian Robert Ross [Ross, Ian Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ian Robert Ross
Published: 2021-11-24T05:00:00+00:00

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It was peaceful for only a brief time. Denn awoke to Ramisa fidgeting and distressed again. He pried himself from her grip, got up, and prepared to attend to her. Crossing the floor, he cracked open the door.

“Water,” Denn demanded to a guard outside. “And coals to start a fire.”

The soldier acknowledged the task crisply and trotted down the stairs to fill the order.

Denn closed the door and gauged how long it would be before Kentin showed up to check on the welfare of his cousin. He had passed out with Ramisa following the scare and upheaval of her rescue from the shattered carriage. Now the princess lay on the bed breathing in fits and seeming to be caught up in the persistent memory of the day’s events. If it was something more, he did not want to know. He did not want her to open her eyes in case he might see the tormenting shadows again. Better it was a nightmare, he thought.

Feeling awkward at providing comfort, he held her hand as she tossed, and he whispered more comforting words until her breath regulated and calm settled again upon her slumber. He thought she might be uncomfortable, still wrapped in her riding clothes, but again fearful of the impropriety, he lacked the courage to free her from the garments and chose to prop her up on pillows instead. He wished Avenda would hurry back.

There was a knock at the door; the soldier had returned with a jug of water, a metal washbasin, and a small iron box that housed the embers that Denn had requested.

“Thank you,” Denn said.

“If there is anything else, sir, just ask. The men are coming back now, and Lord Farathemun has requested to know the disposition of the Lady Ramisa. What may I tell him, m’lord?”

“Tell him she’s alive and resting,” Denn said, then added, “You’re alright to say ‘sir.’ I’m not a lord.”

“Pardon, sir,” the man said while departing and leaving Denn to begin the job of building up a fire.

He blew on the coals until there was crackling from the wood. There was a cough behind him and when he turned, he saw Ramisa’s unassuming grey eyes softly observing him.

“A drink? Water?” he asked her.

“You saved me,” she said. “I should thank you.”

“It is my duty,” he said, then added, “and my wish to protect you.”

Denn felt it sounded like he was already pledging himself to the bride his father had selected for him. He wondered what it would mean to be a husband to this woman, but such conjecture taxed him. Far from clear was the image of Denn at the head of Ramisa’s army of men, marching toward a seat in the royal court of the land. And there was still the question of Livet and what life would he share with her, should they strike out together upon his return to Caphedra?

It occurred to him that if this girl did become queen, Denn would be vindicated for his complicity and absolved.

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