Fable: Edge of the World Read Free Page A

noticed nonetheless that the soldier put his hand in his pocket with an overly casual movement, making sure the rings were still there. As he did so, he glanced up at his friend and liege.
    “Thank you again for the honor. I know that there would have been someone else you’d have picked if you’d had the chance though—and I would have cheered it.”
    The king sobered. Ben was right. One very important man was missing on this special day—his friend and weapons tutor, Sir Walter Beck. It had been Walter who had guided the then-prince on his quest, from that night when he, Beck, and Jasper had fled the castle, up until Walter’s tragic demise. While Captain Jack Timmins had taken over Walter’s role in things martial, no one had ever been as loyal as the knight, and the king knew he would never have quite that same kind of bond with anyone again.
    “Walter would have been very happy today, wouldn’t he?” the king said quietly.
    “Your Majesty—wherever he is, I suspect he
is
happy.”
    The king nodded and took a breath. Ben was right. Walter was the last person who would have wished to cast any pall over his king’s wedding day, and so, the king would not let that happen.
    “Ready, sir?” asked Ben.
    “Yes.”
    “You’re sure? Because you know, you’re the king; if you don’twant to go through with it, if you’re getting cold feet or anything like that—there’s no one who’s going to force you to do it, now, is there?”
    “You’re babbling, Ben.”
    “Oh. I am, aren’t I?”
    “Come on. Let’s go.”
    As they walked in, Rex trotting behind his master, they saw many familiar faces. Sitting in the area reserved for special guests of the kingdom were two others who looked as out of place as Ben clearly felt. One was an extraordinarily large and powerfully built man with a long, curling black mustache. He wore a thick-brimmed hat and his wide leather belt was adorned with a skull and crossbones. To look at him, no one would guess that he had a soft spot a mile wide for animals. This was Boulder, the taciturn bodyguard of King Sabine of the Mistpeak Dwellers.
    Sabine was as different from Boulder as could be imagined. Little more than half the big man’s size, he could best be described with words like “knobby” and “spry.” His beard was as pointed as his hat and his strange, upturned shoes. Propped up beside him as he sat was a staff that his gnarled hands gripped tightly. Affixed to the top of the staff was a purple bottle that served Sabine as a pipe. Smoke usually rose from its opening as Sabine puffed away on a long stem, but for the occasion, the Dweller leader had grudgingly agreed not to smoke.
    The Dwellers had been the king’s first allies and had remained loyal friends. It was quite a trek from Mistpeak to Bowerstone, and the monarch was pleased to see that the cranky old man had made the journey.
    Another who had made an even longer journey was the exotic Auroran leader, Kalin. Her only concession to the cold climate of Albion in winter was a cloak currently folded in her lap. Otherwise, her body and garb proclaimed her origins proudly,from her shaved and tattooed head and arms to her green, gold, and red robes. She was here not only as a true ally but as a countrywoman of the bride-to-be. Indeed, Kalin had been the one to introduce the couple. Kalin caught the king’s eye and gave him a sweet, fond smile. He returned it, then turned his attention to the front of the room as he and Ben walked up the stairs and stood on the priestess’s left. As it had been important to his fiancée to have the wedding performed in the traditional manner of her people, the elderly and wise Priestess Mara had accompanied Kalin across the ocean to officiate.
    The music changed. All eyes now turned from the present king to Albion’s future queen. The king’s breath caught, as it did every time he saw her.
    Laylah.
    Tall and slender, delicate of feature with wide, doelike eyes, her lips curved in