The King's Own

Начало книги

Again, this was not a solitary effort. Eileen Austen, Trai Cartwright, David Delbourgh, Chris Kern, and Teresa Rhyne all had a hand in this. As did Tod Goldberg, who patiently corrected my bearings until I found my footing and my way. Thank you, everyone, for the insights, support, and bops on the head when needed.

When I was a child, my father was asked to head the trade council in our Weald—a great honor as humans were viewed with deep suspicion in the Border. (We were thought light-fingered as we’d pilfered one kingdom already.) Despite his drawbacks, however, Da not only managed to guide the council in developing a well-considered plan, but also in implementing it in a reasoned manner, to the benefit of all in the Weald. As the Weald’s general council had a hard time agreeing on the placement of privies, it was considered a resounding success. Da’s reward was more councils.

“Alas,” Lady Alys cried, her long blond braids spilling about her as she turned from her mirror and collapsed on her daybed. Her nurse thrust past the messenger to clump to her side and start chafing her hand. “Alas and alack,” Alys cried again, allowing the just-delivered letter clasped in her other hand to fall to the floor. The messenger, stumbling from the nurse’s push, dropped his carrypouch with a hollow thump and tinkle as his possessions burst from it. He fell to his hands and knees to gather them up, his backside waving high in the air.

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