The Wrath Of Silence by C. E. Clayton

Author:C. E. Clayton [Clayton, C. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DevilDog Press
Published: 2019-05-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Konrad sniffed in mild derision as the door to the antechamber closed behind the queen’s herald. Tugging his clothes into place, he shifted from foot to foot as he stood apart from the handful of men that accompanied him and Urban. The seasoned Warrior allowed his eyes to roam the sparsely furnished room in hopes of distracting his ever rebellious mind, his thoughts progressively more heretical.

If he were being honest, the source of his unease was the confusion he had toward what they were supposed to do or say to the queen. Plus there were a slew of uncomfortable questions surrounding Urban. Chandrelle’s voice hummed through his mind, asking all the questions he didn’t dare voice himself.

Konrad assumed Urban would be honest with the queen. After all, why would she balk at having her lifeblood be the conduit ensuring Wodan’s survival? She had lived a good and long enough life. Konrad had mentioned such sentiments as the castle loomed before them and shrank back as Urban snarled at him in return. Urban had said she was not to know until they were in the Uldor Forest once again, and the topic had died. Instead, Urban sent a runner with a message for the queen stating they had new information regarding Tallis that was for her ears alone.

Konrad trusted Urban. He believed in the man and what he aimed to do. He accepted that if Urban decreed they needed Morgana’s blood in order to create a gate or portal through one of the dag’ear trees, then that was exactly what they needed. But for as much as he understood all this to be true, he couldn’t silence that deeper part of him that constantly questioned how Urban could know such things. It was the same voice that squirmed and cried that this was murder, that it was regicide. Had he still been in Arcadia, merely considering such a vile crime would see him beheaded and any of his Household or descendants made casteless.

He shook his head, vigorously rubbing his scarred ear where his six golden rings had once been, and refused to let his mind drift toward thoughts of what Chandrelle would think of him if she could see him now. He focused his gaze on a fraying tapestry; the pearls holding the tasseled edges together were dull with age, and the gold and silver thread interwoven through a scene depicting some distant king’s coronation no longer glimmered, but studying the tapestry did him little good. He tried to focus his thoughts on his holy task but failed. All he could think of was the sense of wrongness emanating from their mission and an unquenchable desire to see Arcadia’s painted homes again.

A cold sweat collected at the base of his neck, and he was considering excusing himself from the antechamber when he caught Urban’s intense gaze.

Urban’s eyes appeared sicklier these days, his strength waning without Wodan. The veins and green flecks in his eyes were a dull yellow that gave the otherwise handsome savior a manic look.

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