Tales of the Latter Kingdoms, Books 4-6 by Christine Pope

Author:Christine Pope [Pope, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Valentine Press

Miram returned late the next morning. It seemed her visit with her family had reinvigorated her, for she was full of energy, sending Lila and Marsali and Alina into quite the frenzy, declaring that my chambers needed a good scrubbing.

“More than that,” she declared, hands on her hips as she surveyed the sitting room. “This rug surely hasn’t been beaten in the last month. Take it out to the courtyard, and don’t come back until you’ve spent at least an hour on it.”

The three maids exchanged weary glances, but of course they would never gainsay her. Instead, they moved the furniture about, getting the various pieces out of the way, then rolled up the rug and carried it out of the chamber, staggering a little under its weight.

I listened to this latest edict of Miram’s with some bemusement, as I could have sworn my maids had undertaken this same procedure only a fortnight earlier. Like the maidservants, however, I was loath to make any protests. During my tenure here, I had learned that it was best to allow Miram to have her way when it came to domestic affairs.

So I only sat down on the divan, currently placed under one of the windows, and began to reach for the book I had discarded when this latest tumult began.

Miram crossed the bare floor where the rug had previously lain, then paused a few feet away from me, her hands on her hips. “My lady, I do not think it a good idea for you to be reading right now. Those girls will not be distracted forever.”

This was such an un-Miram-like remark that I did, in fact, stop what I was doing and look over at her. Her dark eyes were twinkling. Had Miram’s eyes ever twinkled? I did not think so — at least, not that I could recall. “Miram?” I said, my tone questioning. “Are you quite well?”

“Oh, I am quite well, my lady.” Another twinkle in those dark eyes. “However, I cannot say that I am feeling exactly myself.”

And as I gazed at her, perplexed, her face and body seemed to shimmer, to shift, features altering subtly, hair and eyes still dark, but the chin more rounded and softer, the mouth quirked in amusement, the nose smaller, almost pert. All this happened within the space of a few seconds, and then a woman who most definitely was not Miram gazed at me.

The odd thing was, she looked strangely familiar. Blinking, I realized there was only one woman in the world I knew of who possessed this sort of talent.

“Surely — surely it cannot be — but you are Therissa Larrin, are you not?” I stammered.

“Ah, so you do remember me,” she replied with an approving smile.

How could I have forgotten the only wielder of magic I had ever seen? True, I had never met her formally, had only seen her the night of the grand ball when her ruse in providing Ashara with a magically created wardrobe had been discovered, but that was certainly a memorable night, and I did not easily forget a face.

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