The Dawn Star Read Free

Shazire, had held audiences here—before Cobalt deposed him. Cobalt had sent the prince into exile; had he killed Zerod, it would have set the countries of Jazid and Taka Mal against him even more than they were already. Mel had also entreated him to spare Zerod.
    Down the hall, men in the aquamarine livery of Alzire heaved open the doors. The visitors from the Misted Cliffs entered with a swirl of motion, ten riders in leather armor and metal breastplates, each carrying a plumed helmet under his arm. Cobalt’s men accompanied the envoy, as did Tadimaja Pickaxe, who was one of the few aides Cobalt had kept from Prince Zerod’s staff.
    The warriors strode down the hall. Mel recognized the man in front: General Agate Cragland. He had stood with Cobalt at the wedding, when the Midnight Prince took Mel as his wife. Agate had iron-gray hair and a hearty physique unmatched by warriors half his age. He stopped before the dais with his men and they each went down on one knee, bowing their heads. Mel knew they knelt to her husband, Stonebreaker’s heir and now king of Shazire and Blueshire. They tolerated her only because she was his wife.
    â€œPlease stand,” Cobalt said.
    Agate got back to his feet, his motions stiff. “I bring greetings from the Misted Cliffs, Your Majesty.”
    â€œIs my grandfather well?” Cobalt asked.
    When Agate paused, Mel’s unease grew. Then the general said, “I have a message from him.”
    Cobalt regarded him with a look Mel would have found hard to read a year ago. Agate’s phrasing disturbed him. She understood. What could Stonebreaker want that required a party of ten men, including the highest-ranked commander in his army?
    â€œI look forward to hearing it,” Cobalt said. Mel didn’t believe him and she doubted Agate did, either, but for once Cobalt was trying to be diplomatic. He invited Agate to share wine with him after the general had a chance to change his riding clothes. It was an accepted protocol for receiving messengers, to offer succor before requesting the message, and Agate expressed appreciation. Mel wasn’t fooled. None of them wanted to be here.
    As Cobalt and Agate spoke, Mel concentrated on the mosaics in the ceiling. The geometric shapes were too far away and too small to give much power, but she managed a faint green spell. Anything more could create a problem; her spells manifested as light, which tended to upset people. Only the barest green shimmer gathered in the air, faint enough to blend into the sunshine slanting through the emerald-glass skylights in the ceiling.
    Agate’s dread snapped against her mood spell like a hard blow on a drum skin.

    Cobalt watched Mel pace in front of a tall window in the Hexacomb Alcove. It troubled him; he rarely saw her so tense.
    â€œWhat did you pick up from Agate?” he asked.
    â€œHe’s afraid,” Mel said.
    He shook his head. “Agate isn’t afraid of anything. Except my grandfather.”
    She glanced at him. “He fears you.”
    Surely not. But Cobalt could never be certain. Although he had known Agate all his life, he had little idea what the general thought of him. When Cobalt had been small, Agate had stood by while Stonebreaker whipped his grandson. Yet sometimes after the king locked Cobalt in a closet, Agate brought him food or water. The general had risked repercussions even with that; if Stonebreaker had found out, he could have broken Agate, imprisoned him, even executed him. Stonebreaker commanded the loyalty of his army because he was an intelligent leader and savvy in politics, but his top people knew his cruelty. Most had chosen to protect themselves rather than intercede on behalf of a crying boy. Cobalt gritted his teeth. They had stood by and watched a hardened warrior batter a helpless child. He wondered if they had really understood that someday that beaten, angry boy would be their king.
    â€œWhy does Agate fear me?” he