Kendare, Blake - Three Dark Crowns 002 - The Young Queens by Kendare Blake

Author:Kendare, Blake [Kendare, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

Three Years Later

ROLANTH

Sara Westwood sits across from the High Priestess of Fennbirn Island. They have met in secret at an inn in Trignor, a coastal town with a port that smells as much of the sheep from the farms in Waring as it does of fish, but Sara does not mind the smell. She has quietly begged for this meeting for years, and this is as near as they could come to midway between Sara’s city of Rolanth and the High Priestess’s quarters in Indrid Down Temple.

“More ale?” she asks, and snaps her fingers for the serving girl. She does not call the High Priestess by her title, as she has come dressed in simple white-and-black temple robes that any priestess might wear. She does not even call her “Luca,” her name, which is known the island-over.

After the ale is poured, High Priestess Luca regards her with sharp blue eyes.

“How is everything in your household, Sara?”

“Lucky to be standing, truth be told,” Sara replies. “Thank the Goddess for reinforced roofs. They are most resistant to being torn off.”

Luca chuckles. “You are being dramatic.”

“High Priestess, I am not. The stronger she became, the more difficult she was to control. We have”—she pauses, ashamed—“we have taken to keeping her shut up in the basement.”

Inside, belowground and away from windows, Mirabella is manageable. But they have still had to brick over the fireplace. And the nailed-down shutters on the exterior of the windows are not fooling anyone.

“A queen? Locked up in a basement?”

“We are failing her. We were not prepared.”

Sara takes a large swallow of ale. They will do better. The Westwoods’ time is just beginning. The Arrons will fade, and the Westwoods will rise, building up their homes and the city until Rolanth rivals the capital city of Indrid Down. If only they can shepherd this queen.

“There have been rumors,” says Luca. “They say that she is a handful. But surely your letters were an exaggeration.”

“I am not in the habit of exaggerating. And certainly not to you. She has not forgotten her sisters.”

“A queen always forgets. Give her time.”

Luca’s voice is soothing but dismissive. She will seek to put Sara’s mind at ease and leave her with no more than a pat on the head, if Sara lets her. And Sara has written too many letters, and pleaded with too many interim priestesses, for that.

“The people wished for an elemental queen,” she says, her voice bitter. “They feared that there was nothing left to the Goddess but poisoners. And now that they have an elemental, they whisper that she is a handful. She is more than a handful. And we will fail if someone does not help us.”

“At first, the strong queens are always difficult.”

“It has been three years.”

Luca takes a long drink of her ale and crunches through a baked, salted cracker. “How is she other than that? Does she look you in the eye? Respond to your emotions?”

“Yes. There are times when she is almost sweet.” Sara knows what the priestess is asking.

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