Wen Spencer by A Brother's Price

Author:A Brother's Price [Price, A Brother's]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-04T13:00:37+00:00

Chapter 10

It had been a fine morning for Jerin, one with the dawn sun pouring rich golden light into the yellow silk parlor. A youngest Barnes brought a tray of hot melted chocolate, triangles of toasted bread anointed with fresh butter and little cups of fruit jams, and the promise of another bath. Jerin rose from his feathered bed with silk-soft sheets, sat in the sunshine, ate of a breakfast he hadn’t prepared, and felt royally pampered.

Did nobles live every day of their life like this? Did they wake like him, reveling in the comfort? Did it fade in time? Perhaps, he considered, if they lived their whole life this way, they couldn’t find the same level of pleasure in it. Surely you had to get up at dawn and cook for forty people to realize the luxury of having the food brought to you.

Barnes came to the door then, saying Princess Rennsellaer wished an audience with Eldest Whistler.

Eldest returned a short time later for Corelle, saying that they were riding out with Ren. Summer followed them out into the hall for a short murmured conversation about their plans.

Jerin had raised a cup to his mouth, unconcerned, when thoughts came together in his mind. The royal summons. The cannon thieves leaving a trail of dead behind them. His sister suddenly keeping things from him.

A cloud passed in front of the sun, and he lowered the teacup as the shadow slid over him.

Summer came in quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“Where are they going?” Jerin put the cup down harder than he intended.

‘’Just out for a ride. Princess Rennsellaer thought they would enjoy a ride,“ Summer said too lightly, too quickly. ”The tailors will be here shortly.“

Summer was a terrible liar. Jerin wished, for once, she was better at it. Since she had obviously been instructed not to tell him, it would have been more comforting if he had been able to believe her.

The tailors arrived. While they pinned and poked, Summer stood at the window, looking out over the city. Shortly before lunch, there was an odd double clap of thunder.

“Is it going to rain?” the eldest tailor asked, frowning in concern at the window, where clouds raced on the wind.

Summer turned toward her, an odd expression on her face. “Perhaps.”

“I hope not. Rain would ruin this fabric,” the tailor muttered around a mouth of silver pins.

Thunder or cannons? Jerin stepped off the fitting stool and toward the window, only to be stabbed by a thousand tiny sharp prickles as the tailor cried out in shrill dismay.

“No, no, no!” The tailor pushed him back, losing her mouth of pins. “Stay put! This fabric costs a fortune, so we must be right the first time.”

“A fortune?” He froze in place, his voice breaking in nervousness. He lifted an arm draped with the flimsy, shimmering cobalt blue fabric. It was like being wrapped in cool air and nothing else.

“A crown a yard.” She gathered up the dropped pins, tucking them between her lips again. “Now,” she murmured, “stand still.

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