Herald of the Storm Read Free Page B

look like a cake. I should at least be able to choose the colour.’
    ‘And what would you pick? Something blood red or jet black, I’d wager.’
    Janessa smiled. ‘Wouldn’t that be something? Imagine their faces when I walked in.’
    ‘Yes, and imagine your father’s when he found out.’
    Janessa turned to Graye with a frown. ‘Must you pour water on every flame of an idea?’
    ‘One of us has to be sensible. The king has enough to concern him without you causing a stir whenever you get the chance. Sooner or later you’ll have to face up to your responsibilities.’
    Janessa turned towards the window, fighting back a sudden stab of sadness. Graye hadn’t meant any harm, she knew, but reminders of her obligations grew ever more insistent and sometimes she just wanted to forget. It was not a responsibility she had been born to, and certainly not one she desired. She was simply not meant to be queen. Janessa had been last in line to the throne after her brother and sister, before the plague had sent them to an early grave along with her mother. Now she alone bore the burden of succession, and that responsibility weighed all too heavily on her shoulders.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Graye, placing a hand on her arm, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
    ‘I know,’ Janessa replied, turning to her friend and trying to smile. ‘It just wasn’t supposed to be this way. Drake and Lisbette were the ones brought up to this, the ones who were taught the airs and graces. The ones born to rule.’
    ‘And you were always the wild one. I was there, remember.’
    This brought a smile to Janessa’s lips. Graye had always been there, her constant companion, and could share her pain, for she too had lost her family to the plague. Her parents had fallen victim early and, with the death of Lord and Lady Daldarrion, Graye had come to live at Skyhelm, the palace of King Cael Mastragall. Having her as a close friend had been the only thing that helped Janessa through that terrible time, when the Sweet Canker had claimed almost a quarter of the Free States.
    Sweet Canker. It sounded like a flower or one of the exotic foreign perfumes her mother had liked so much, but it was a name that struck fear into the hearts of every man, woman and child, not caring whom it took from beggar to king. Coming from nowhere, it had descended upon the Free States like a killer in the night. There was nothing ‘sweet’ about it. Once afflicted, death came in a feverish nightmare, with the phantom odour of cinnamon and clove assailing the nostrils. That was where the name came from – someone’s idea of a joke perhaps. No one was laughing.
    ‘Well I’m not wild any more,’ said Janessa, trying to shake herself from her malaise. ‘Now I am a lady at court, heir to the throne, the woman who would be queen.’ She began to prance around the room mocking the graceful gait of the sycophantic courtiers she had so recently been forced to mix with.
    Graye laughed again. ‘You’ve hardly changed, have you? You’re still more suited to riding like a man and climbing trees than refinement and public engagements. How will your father ever marry you off?’
    Janessa looked pointedly at Graye. Her lady in waiting realised her mistake and the easy smile fell from her face.
    ‘You’ll have to come to terms with it sooner or later,’ Graye said. ‘It’s not going to go away.’
    ‘No,’ Janessa replied, glancing towards the window, a sudden mad plan coming to mind. ‘But maybe
we
could go away. Perhaps we could run, far from here, far from this prison.’
    ‘And go where? We couldn’t go anywhere in the Free States; we’d be found by the Wardens in no time. Would you rather we crossed the seas to Dravhistan where they treat their women like servants, or perhaps head north to the steppes where the Khurtas would use us as whores.’
    ‘Graye!’
    ‘It’s true. You do say the silliest things sometimes. If your father were here—’
    ‘He’s not