Lions of the Reach (Rage of Lions Book 3) by Matt Barron

Author:Matt Barron [Barron, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blade of Truth Publishing Company
Published: 2022-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

Riding back along the causeway, Amelia was thinking to continue east into the grassland. She wanted to find some open country with no one around and give Meadow Dancer her head, to experience the wind on her face and the joy of motion of a horse at a gallop. When she was passing the camp and the little saltwater woodland, she noticed a man emerging from under the trees—a large nobleman in a fine gambeson she recognized immediately as Earl Derryman. Having noticed him coming from a strange place and clapping at his lower legs to beat sand and water from his hose, Amelia planned to ride on, giving him no more thought. But as she did, something about the earl seemed odd, and her mind worked of its own volition to puzzle out what it was. Then she realized: Derryman wasn’t limping. In fact, he was moving swiftly and quite painlessly. For all the march west so far, the earl had been afflicted with gout, unable to ride and barely able to walk. Now here he was, gamboling like a man less than half his age.

In the rational part of her mind, Amelia knew there might be any number of explanations for the earl’s change of step, all of them innocent or simple. But the days of isolation, the endless mockery and machinations of the prince, and of course, Turley’s murder, all worked on her mind to suspect some sort of treachery. She imagined that the earl had deliberately faked his illness to deceive her in some way. It was ridiculous and paranoid, but her calm inner mind would not let her shake it off.

When she reached the ramp down from the causeway, she didn’t guide Meadow Dancer off over the grass, but turned her head back toward the center of camp, looking for the earl. She wasn’t exactly sure what she intended but vaguely imagined she would watch him from a distance to spy out evidence of possible treachery. It didn’t work out that way, though, for as she rode around a large tent with fluttering green ribbons on its corner posts, she came face to face with the earl, not ten paces distant. He was looking straight at her and saw her the same moment she saw him. Hoping she didn’t look too surprised or suspicious, Amelia schooled her expression to polite disinterest and made to walk her roan straight past the man. He, however, was clearly pleased to see her, although there was a troubled undertone to his expression, a knotting of the brows and downturn of his lips.

“Your Grace,” he said and bowed deeply. She received his bow with a nod. “It is fortuitous to see you here. If you will forgive the forwardness, I would ask an audience.”

“Certainly, My Lord,” she said. What else could she say? “What would you like to discuss?”

“Not here, Your Grace,” he said more quietly, stepping closer as he did so. “In your tent, if it pleases you. It is a difficult matter to raise.

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