Two Queens (Seven Heavens Book 1) Read Free Page A

he heard no words.
    What next? He considered his gains and losses. The woman was not alone and, for argument's sake, he couldn't be sure the ring was with her. But he'd found their place. Somehow he felt that their poverty justified some of what he had gone through. He wouldn't have been able to bear it had she been living a noblewoman's carefree life, servants at beck and call.
    She has to have the ring though. Where else would it be? The husband? No, she hid it when he and the boy joined them that evening. She would keep it on her person, he was sure. Enough to go on, at least.
    What to do now? If only he had some skill at the bow: a couple arrows and he could take what was his, unimpeded. His stomach lurched at the thought of killing a human. As he had with his fears, as he had with his urge to surrender himself, he suppressed himself. It can't be that bad. People kill others and die every day. Maybe he could buy a bow, learn how to use it, and return.

 
    What was he thinking? It would be easier to hire an assassin. But they were troublesome, and he didn't have a butler to make the worrisome arrangements for him. He remembered too well the fate of his great-uncle.
    No, he was losing his nerve and trying to think of an excuse to wish away the two men. But they wouldn't be wished away. He could slip in and do it, he avoided thinking the words. They couldn't be around her all the time. And if so, she was half ready to sell anyways... Paris froze again. Where was her husband?
    He broke out in a cold sweat. He imagined the herder stalking him, ready to break from cover behind him at any moment. His mind raced—where could he be? With the boy, or the girl? Where else? Horse-sheep beasts—they had some, where were they right now?
    He weaved his way deeper into his clump of trees, trying to hide from all directions. His mind was little eased and his view completely destroyed. Only his ears informed him of what unfolded before him and that only above his pounding heart.
    Memories unbidden came to Paris. Hiding in the school yard while the bullies paced about. Cowering in court behind a brazen exterior when his father first spoke with the Kyrian about him. He thought his father's stares were bad—but the King? Not the current one, he was a fool. The throne was a plaything to him. But the old King—everything you'd imagine for a proud grandfather (though the King was not one) pretty much summed it up. Except you were a poisonous snake he caught his heir playing with, not his relative.
    That time had passed with use and the old King's death. This too shall pass, Paris told himself. Yet he sat there as if waiting for the world to pass. Too scared to move forward, too driven to leave.
     

 
    Kerdae stood up. He looked at the few pieces of wood left from Brian's last load and turned away. He paced around the cabin, looking it over roofbeam to floorboards.
    “What are you thinking?” Astra asked.
    “Wondering how much to fix. Some pieces are still good, some have to go, but others” he leaned forward and rapped on a log “are hard to tell.” He lumbered over to the stack of wood already stripped from the cabin and in line for the fire. He sat against it.
    “What would you do?” Astra asked. She looked out into the forest in the northwest direction then back at Kerdae.
    “Whatever Devlin wants.”
    “Perhaps it would be easier for you.” Kerdae looked over at her. “He grew up here. I know he'll pull that pole out there, and several like it. But the others... may take a while.”
    “What are you saying, Ramona?”
    “Feel free to speak your mind. It will help him decide.”
    Kerdae brushed some bark off of his hands then clasped them again against his chest. A slight smile tugged at his face. “Makes sense. Worked with me. And what you said, now, that's caused a world of change.”
    “Thank you, Kerdae,” Astra said. She had a felt blanket in her hand she had just pulled from a kardja saddle. She shook it out and