Broken Kingdoms 01: Curse of Shadows and Thorns by LJ Andrews

Author:LJ Andrews [Andrews, LJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Victorious
Published: 2021-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Legion kept a distance of three strides. Jarl said nothing, but I could’ve sworn he grinned as we passed Herr Svart, who sat on a lower table. Svart narrowed his eyes into daggers. I wanted to disappear.

Inside, Mavie and Siv took a place against the wall with the other maids and stewards. Bevan stood with them, while Tor and Halvar exited the hall for the kitchens. They weren’t needed and would not be permitted to stay.

At the table, I took the seat between Legion and Jarl. For sharing many of my sentiments on Timoran culture, the negotiator settled into the finer things of life like a second nature. He knew how to sit like a man who catered to no one; knew how to piously hold out a drinking horn for more ale or wine, then how to stroke the glass pride of surrounding nobles until they’d gone blue in the face from swallowing their self-importance.

Me, raised in this life, could hardly bury my resentment. Even the way I shredded the wet eel skin screamed of discontent.

No one asked, of course. No one but Legion.

“I’m well,” I said at the hooded glance he gave me when my knife skidded over my plate. He didn’t need to say anything, I knew what question danced on the tip of his tongue.

“I said nothing, Kvinna,” he returned with a grin.

I tightened my mouth.

We sat at the king’s table, the one closest to the podium where blood would spill in a few days’ time. I’d prefer if the ground swallowed me whole as prying eyes stole pitiful glances my way, their stares prickling my skin. Folk would stare and whisper about me, but never approach me. Surrounded by countless people, yet always alone.

The whispers ceased when Zyben took Queen Annika’s hand, and they claimed the two high seats at the table. Annika was a pasty woman, as though she’d never stepped outside, and her face was always twisted as if she smelled something putrid.

The queen sat, but Zyben remained on his feet. He lifted a polished goblet. “Welcome. You honor your King by being here, to celebrate a defeat of traitors.” His icy eyes traveled the table. Bone beads threaded in the braids of his beard clapped together when he sneered. “Eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves during these days.”

A murmur of approval rumbled through the crowds, and wait staff set to work serving the wealthiest, the noblest of Timoran.

I ignored most of the conversations, since most had to do with the attack, or status, or troubles in the kingdom. But a lady to the side of Legion soon caught my attention, the way she giggled and leaned in close to him. His smile was polite. Perhaps he enjoyed the attention. I didn’t know personal things about Legion Grey, who he entertained, the sort of affections he’d won in Mellanstrad. Only that he was desirable to many, and some talk hinted he was well known in other ways.

“You’ve been missed in town, Herr Grey,” she said.

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