Prince of the Blood Read Free Page A

reins to each brother. Seeing the blood along Erland’s side, a Lieutenant of the Guard moved his horse nearby and said in mock sympathy, “Does His Highness require help?”
    Erland negotiated the stirrup and heaved himself into the saddle without aid. In irritated tones, he answered, “Only when I see Father, Cousin Willie, and I don’t think you can do much for me then.”
    Lieutenant William nodded and in unsympathetic tones, he whispered, “He did say come home at once, Erland.”
    Erland nodded in resignation. “We just wanted to relax for a day or two before—”
    William couldn’t resist laughing at his cousins’ predicament. He had often seen them bring disaster down upon themselves and he never could understand their appetite for such punishment. He said, “Maybe you could run for the border. I could get very stupid following you.”
    Erland shook his head. “I think I’ll wish I had taken your offer, after tomorrow morning’s court.”
    William laughed again. “Come along, this dressing down won’t be much worse than a dozen you’ve already had.”
    Baron James, Chancellor of Krondor and first assistant to the Duke of Krondor, quickly mounted his own horse. “To the palace,” he ordered, and the company turned to escort the twin princes, Borric and Erland, home.

    Arutha, Prince of Krondor, Knight-Marshal of the Western Realm, and Royal Heir to the Throne of the Kingdom of the Isles, sat quietly attentive to the business of the court being conducted before him. A slender man in his youth, he had not gained the bulk commonly associated with middle age, but rather had become harder, more angular in features, losing what little softening effects youth had given his lanky appearance. His hair was still dark, though enough grey had come with the twenty years of ruling Krondor and the West to speckle it. Hisreflexes had slowed only slightly over the years, and he was still counted one of the finest swordsmen in the Kingdom, though he rarely had reason to exercise his skill with the rapier. His dark brown eyes were narrowed in concentration, a gaze that seemed to miss nothing, in the opinion of many who served the Prince. Thoughtful, even brooding at times, Arutha was a brilliant military leader. He had rightfully won his reputation during the nine years of the Riftwar—which had ended the year before the twins’ birth—after taking command of the garrison at Crydee, his family’s castle, when only a few months older than his sons were now.
    He was counted a hard but fair ruler, quick to dispense justice when the crime warranted, though often given to acts of leniency at the request of his wife, the Princess Anita. And that relationship more than anything typified the administration of the Western Realm: hard, logical, evenhanded justice, tempered with mercy. While few openly sang Arutha’s praises, he was well respected and honored, and his wife was beloved by her subjects.
    Anita sat quietly upon her throne, her green eyes looking off into space. Her royal manner masked her concern for her sons from all but those who knew her most intimately. That her husband had ordered the boys brought to the great hall for morning court, rather than to their parents’ private quarters last night, showed more than anything else his displeasure. Anita forced herself to be attentive to the speech being given by a member of the Guild of Weavers; it was her duty also to show those coming before her husband’s court the consideration of listening to every petition or request. The other members of the royal family were not normally required at morning court, but since the twins had returned from their service upon the border at Highcastle, it had become a family gathering.
    Princess Elena stood at her mother’s side. She looked afair compromise between her parents, with red-brown hair and fair skin from her mother but her father’s dark and intelligent eyes. Those who knew the royal family well often observed that