The Regent's Knight by J.M. Snyder

Author:J.M. Snyder [Snyder, JM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2011-06-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

When Tovin managed to extract himself from his duties, more than a quarter of an hour had passed. Once the regent had left, the squire returned, and Tovin was careful to keep the table between them at all times. Still, minutes rushed by, tumbling into hours, and it wasn’t until he heard the evening prayer bells ring from the chapel’s tower that he realized how late it had grown. “Shit,” he muttered, rolling up the nearest map. To the squire, he ordered, “See to it that these are put away. I am late for an audience with the regent.”

Very late. Given Amery’s earlier mood, Tovin suspected he would have a lot of making up to do.

The door to the regent’s chambers was locked. Tovin did not expect that—he had one hand on the knob and walked right into the oaken door. A snicker escaped one of the guards stationed nearby, but when Tovin glared at them, they found something much more interesting to study on the floor or ceiling and refused to meet his gaze. Raising one hand curled into a fist, he pounded the door and ignored the hot stares on his back.

When he had to knock a second time, Tovin felt his own irritation begin to rise. In a commanding voice, he hollered, “Do not make me break down this door, Your Highness!”

He heard the scramble of locks, then the door opened an inch. Amery’s young page peered out and blanched when he saw Tovin blocking the way. “Sir Tovin,” he stuttered, bowing low while trying to hold the door shut. He simply succeeded in bumping his forehead against the door jamb. Rubbing the tender spot, he looked past Tovin to the guards and mumbled, “The regent is busy at the moment—”

“He will see me.” Tovin shoved the door open, easily moving the page aside. As he entered the regent’s sitting room, Tovin took in the empty chaise lounge, the low fire smoldering in the hearth, the dim lighting. Through the doorway into the other room, he saw the bed neatly made; there was no sign of Amery. Rounding on the page, he barked, “I have urgent matters to discuss with him. Where the hell is he?”

The page closed the door, then leaned back against it as if he were afraid Tovin might attack him out of spite. “The bath, sir. He said no one was to disturb him.”

With a laugh, Tovin helped himself to the carafe of wine set out on a nearby credenza. Pouring a goblet, he sniffed at the blood-red liquid, then sipped the tepid wine. It seemed to suck all the moisture from his mouth, it was that dry. “Announce my presence,” he told the page, when it became obvious the boy did not plan to move. “Tell the regent to stop whatever solitary pleasures in which he may be indulging at the moment. I will not wait long for him to come.”

His double entendre was lost on the boy, who opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, then hurried from the sitting room.

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