Heritage: Book One of the Gairden Chronicles Read Free Page A

He turned to see Tyrnen mouthing words and gesturing wildly. With regret, Aidan dissipated the swabs of air in his ears. Sound rushed back in: bustling footsteps, shouting, the creak of armor worn by the Wardsmen ringing the room, and Tyrnen’s reproving tone.
    “—showing off like that. Honestly, Aidan, you need to learn to act—”
    “—my age,” Aidan cut in dryly. “You’re right. I should act my age. Even better, I should act your age. Or was there another Touched in the crowd building bridges from ice?”
    Tyrnen snorted. “Thirteen years of lessons, all so you can create dancing snow people.”
    “You’re just upset because you were outdone,” Aidan said, adopting an imperious pose. “On this day, the student became the teacher.”
    “I bow to your superiority in the art of foolishness.”
    “Ah, don’t sell yourself short. You made your master proud.”
    “And shifting instead of walking? What a flair for the dramatic, and a superfluous use of the Lady’s light.”
    “It was a much more impressive entrance than strolling through the gates,” Aidan said. “People came from leagues away to see their beloved Prince Aidan—”
    “ Beloved ?”
    “—so I gave them something special to remember.”
    “Special? I’ve seen you shift across a room to pick up a book.”
    “I’ve never done that!”
    Tyrnen scratched at his chin. “You’re right. What would you do with a book?”
    “Actually,” Aidan said, his thoughts returning to the woman outside the door. “There was a girl outside the door, just in the courtyard. Do you think she liked the display? She was Sallnerian, but—”

    “No good can come of that,” Tyrnen said quickly, steering Aidan from the closed doors. “Best to forget about it, especially when you should be focusing on what is to come.”
    Tyrnen guided Aidan to the doors of the throne room. Aidan’s chest tightened. All thoughts of the beautiful Sallnerian fled from his mind. He felt as if his world had suddenly been carved into two separate realms: the one outside the throne room, and the one within, the one that would change everything.
    Tyrnen placed a wizened hand on his shoulder. “It won’t be so bad, you know,” he said, his voice soft. “Or so different.”
    Aidan laughed nervously. “I’m beginning to think you really can read minds.”
    The old man squeezed. “Only yours.” He winked. “I enjoy light reading now and again.”
    Before Aidan could retort, the Wardsmen flanking the doors threw them open. A red carpet divided the marble floor. Merchants, tradesmen, sailors, visiting foreigners from the farthest corners of the realms filled the space on either side, peering over shoulders to catch a glimpse of him. Above, galleries wrapped around and around the room all the way to the ceiling. Colorful banners bearing crests and sigils lolled over the lip of each gallery like tongues. Nobles dressed in flowing golden robes looked down at Aidan from on high, weighing him as if he were a fish at market. Great windows between galleries flooded the room with the Lady’s light.
    Fighting the urge to bolt, Aidan took one last breath and took a step forward. A tug on his sleeve made him look back. Daniel Shirey stood like all the other Wardsmen: straight and tall, spear held parallel to his body, mail freshly polished, eyes boring a hole through the wall across the room. Aidan swallowed a laugh as he noticed the one flaw in Daniel’s image of the perfect Wardsman. Red hair spilled out from beneath Daniel’s helmet like sloppily bundled hay.
    “Good luck,” Daniel mouthed. Aidan nodded back. Tyrnen nudged Aidan forward, well aware of the mischief that seemed to spontaneously occur when Daniel and Aidan were together for longer than a few moments.
    Men and women bowed low as Aidan passed, like wind flowing over tall grass. Visitors from the western and eastern realms of Darinia and Leaston inclined their heads. At last he mounted the handful of steps that led