Angelaeon Circle 2 - Eye of the Sword Read Free Page A

“Come on, beast. You’ll make me late to the feast laid in my honor.”
    Persey plodded through the dim woods as if she had all year to get back.
    Trevin groaned. The new comain, valiant horseman of the king, was now a shirtless, shoeless donkey drover. “I hope no one sees me entering Redcliff,” he mumbled.
    The wind gusted. Leaves danced. A whisper swirled through the air.
Seeeeeker
.
    Persey’s ears twitched. Her nostrils flared.
    Trevin jerked around but saw no one.
    Seeeeeker
.
    A shiver snaked up his spine. The same flesh-prickling voice had come to him twice before, both times in the tower aerie.
    Seeeeeker
.
    Both times he had dashed out of the aerie as quickly as he could. He didn’t hesitate to make a quick escape again.
    Seeeeeker
.
    Persephone obviously agreed. Trevin barely made it onto her back before she broke into a ragged gallop.

    By the time Trevin approached the east wall of Redcliff, the tallest tower of the palace stood dark against the sunset sky, its stately silhouette interrupted only by the form of a body suspended from the parapet. Presumably another overlord who had supported the recent coup attempt. Trevin knew that if Melaia hadn’t captured his heart, he might be hanging from the wall himself. Even now his loyalty to the king was largely unproven. His being late to dinner would not add to the king’s trust. And Dwin … If he had told the Dregmoorians anything traitorous …
    Trevin thrust away the thought and headed for the stable gate, which was cloaked in shadows. He pushed on the massive wooden door. It didn’t budge. He pounded on it.
    The peephole slid open, and then the barred inner gate grated through its track, and the bolt scraped aside. Pym, a stout, bandy-legged armsman, swung open the door.
    “What are you doing outside?” Pym asked. “You’re supposed to be at dinner.”
    Persephone nudged her way into the stable, and Trevin ducked in behind her.
    Pym chuckled as he ran a hand through his shock of unruly hair. “Did the lady keep your tunic?”
    “It was no lady.”
    “I guess not.” Pym wrinkled his nose. “You smell overripe. And your cheek is bruised.”
    “I ran into Dregmoorians intent on drowning me in landgash. They were headed here.”
    “Must be the ones who arrived this afternoon. They caused quite a stir at the gates, they did.”
    “Did Dwin get them in?”
    “As I heard it, guards detained them while Dwin took their message to the king. They’ve come to propose a peace treaty, they say. Between Camrithia and the Dregmoors. One of them is Prince Varic.”
    “
Prince
Varic,” Trevin muttered.
    Pym spread hay in a stall for Persephone. “They left their horses here only awhile ago. As for your brother—” He nodded toward the door to the courtyard, where Dwin sat on an upturned keg, grinning.
    Trevin clenched his fists and stomped over to his brother.
    Dwin eyed Trevin through his black curls. “I knew you’d bring Persey back.”
    Trevin stifled the impulse to cuff him. “You made a regal fool of yourself. You led the enemy straight to our gates while, for all you knew, I lay dead at the bottom of a well.”
    Dwin waved his hand as if brushing away gnats. “I sent Jarrod for you. Didn’t he find you?”
    “I rescued myself, no thanks to you. I could have boiled to death in gash.”
    “You think
I
could have pulled you out? That’s why I sent Jarrod. Or is awarrior angel not good enough for you?” Dwin looked around and lowered his voice. “Besides, I was spying.”
    “For whom? The Dregmoorians?”
    “For Camrithia. And don’t get all hot about it. You used to spy for Rejius.”
    “And I despise myself for it,” said Trevin. “Besides, a spy
gathers
information. He doesn’t get drunk and tell all he knows.”
    Dwin shrugged, a sheepish look in his eyes. “I drank one too many.”
    “And then led the enemy straight to the king. What if they’re assassins?”
    “They’re here for peace.”
    “Right. And I’m here to