The Baker's Wife--complete by Amy Keeley

Author:Amy Keeley [Keeley, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: bakers wife, books, cave, fantasy, fantasy romance, magic and fantasy, magic and love, magic and romance, minstrel, romance with minstrel, romantic fantasy, serial fantasy, serial format, serial romance, sweet fantasy romance, temptation
Publisher: Amy Keeley
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Part Three: Doors

Krysilla Gillasin stood in the square of the capital city, Hurush, and stared, oblivious of the gathering crowd, at the King’s minstrel: the great, the mysterious, Zhiv Mikailsin. For the first time since she’d met him, he was dressed in the rich clothes she’d expected him to wear as a servant of the King, and not the clothes of Parlay the lowly fiddler. And that was how she knew things were going horribly wrong.

The King was dead. The Queen was about to appear to make the announcement on the dais that had been constructed in the square. It looked too much like the style used for executions, and Krysilla wondered if something just as horrifying were about to happen. It would make sense. Zhiv had pulled the King from the wreckage of the clock tower of the Disciples. He’d managed to rescue the King, Krysilla, and himself. But he was also a minstrel, and they were known to be unreliable, wild, especially if one happened to be descended from a tribe who still clung to Ornic ways. The ones who had tried to burn the world.

But Zhiv had been the one who had fought the hardest to keep the King from implementing his mad plan to control the rift himself alone. He’d saved him, even though that same King had massacred Zhiv’s family.

For you, a miserable voice said. He saved the King to save you from the curse the King had wrapped around your wrist and locked into your bones. But she knew it wasn’t the only reason. In spite of all the King had done, Zhiv had wanted to save him as well.

And now, he stood like a man awaiting judgment, no matter how fine his clothes. Never again would he be able to hide behind the common fiddler’s appearance. Not in this city. And probably not anywhere else, if the gossip worked as quickly for him as it had for her and her soon-to-be former husband, Lejer.

The Queen appeared from a narrow street, two small princesses and a not-much-older prince walking calmly behind her. They all looked beautiful, even with the black sash draped over their chests. The younger of the girls had a lovely porcelain doll tucked under one arm, also wearing a black sash. The Queen wore two, one around her waist and one draped across her chest; a sign of mourning until she could wear the white with black border that marked a widow three months from now. She walked slowly, stiffly, as if she were about to face the Dogs and their justice of her own free will. But the Dogs that walked ahead of her had no staves to burn anyone, and took their place quietly in two lines on either side of the square. No spell obscured their faces, as it would if someone were about to die.

Krysilla briefly wondered which exit the Queen had used to hide the existence of the castle everyone seemed to think was in a mythical place.

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