Heir to the Sun by Jennifer Allis Provost

Author:Jennifer Allis Provost [Provost, Jennifer Allis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, fantasy, faerie, fae, asherah, parthalan, sala, tegurnan, allis, provost
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Asherah speaks…

Of the many things I’d never expected to encounter in the elf king’s home, the arrival of the Prelate of Parthalan, the right hand of Sahlgren, was one. Gods, I hoped he didn’t have legion at his back along with orders to return us to the dojas.

“No one’s taking you anywhere,” Lormac declared when I voiced my fears. “The Prelate has much power, yes, but not over me.”

“Should you wear this when you meet him?” I asked, and again tried giving back the armband. I was shocked that Lormac asked me to stay with him, shocked that he would put the Sala on me… and despondent, that he’d regain his wits and realize what a mistake he had made.

“I’m well acquainted with the Prelate. He will recognize me without it.”

“But Lormac—”

“We will speak of this later,” he said. “Now, I must deal with my guests.”

Lormac left his chamber in a flurry of motion, calling out commands to his advisors as they scurried around him. I located Torim and Harek; both were as shocked as I to hear of the king’s visitors. They both eyed the Sala but said nothing, which was good, since I myself didn’t know what I thought about wearing the most sacred object in Tingu. Worse, I understood all too well what my wearing of the Sala meant.

I was jolted free of my musings when we entered the hall and saw the two men standing before Lormac’s throne. The one speaking was short for a faerie, but solidly muscled, his yellow hair shot through with strands of silver. I knew he was the Prelate; his authority hung around him like a royal mantle. The man next to him bore an uncanny resemblance, though he was a head taller and his hair more the color of the sun.

As we approached, the Prelate was attempting to berate Lormac for offering us aid without first consulting with Teg’urnan. I wanted to shout at the Prelate, accuse him of complicity in the enslavement of our kind and indifference to our plight. I also suppressed a wave of guilt, for while I’d come to Lormac for help I hadn’t wanted to cause him or his kingdom strife.

“When I learned that there were faeries plotting rebellion against Sahlgren I expected that they would hide beyond our borders,” the Prelate was saying, “but I didn’t expect to find them camped before the Seat of Tingu.”

“As always, an elf to clean up a faerie’s mess,” Lormac replied. The jibe made the taller man’s eyes flame, but the Prelate remained composed. “History does repeat itself often amongst your kind.”

“They’re all guilty of treason,” the Prelate continued. “I can have them executed where they stand.” Torim gasped and clutched my arm; Harek set his jaw as if he were about to be sentenced; I tried very hard not to faint. Lormac, however, was unaffected by the threat.

“You forget, Parthalan’s border is a two day ride south,” Lormac stated. “These are my lands. You’ll be executing no one, and you’ll speak to none without my consent.

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