Free Conspiracy by Kate Gordon

protection of their realms?”
    “They are truly safe nowhere. I have not discovered the traitor, but he is among them somewhere, seeking to overthrow the ruler of the Eastern Realm. He seeks control of the Western Realm as well, but that news can wait.”
    He stood and took one final look out over the valley below. “I have missed home, Haslane. I have missed peace. I have missed … everything,” he said, taking his brother by the shoulders and pulling him into another embrace. “But now I will see your bride—my new sister. I could not be happier for the two of you. And I have news of my own,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
    Haslane tilted his head in question.
    “All in good time,” Gregor answered “I believe I shall not be far behind you in choosing my love. I have already met her.”
    “Really?” Haslane asked. “And does she know what she’s getting into?” he added with a smile.
    “There’s more to it than you know, my brother. She has much to learn yet. She is human—and Elven.”
    “Ah,” Haslane nodded. “You have grown bold on your journey.” He stroked his chin and began to laugh. “We shall see how this passes muster with Camille. She is the woman who knows you best. She will know how to handle this situation.”
    “I’m counting on her advice,” Gregor replied.
     
    The news of his father’s imminent death weighed heavily on Gregor as he walked along the familiar path with Haslane. They spoke little during the twenty-minute trek to the house above the village. Despite the power and authority of the Southern Realm—which vastly exceeded that of the other Elven kingdoms—the royal and noble families lived more common lives, actually working in the fields alongside their people.
    While not a castle, the king’s house was large, multi-storied, and set apart from the cluster of village homes a half mile down the well-trodden path. Gregor and Haslane climbed the last few yards slowly as Gregor eyed the changes and the familiar. The sheep in the pasture remained a peaceful, pastoral, and constant reminder of his youth and daily duties. His father had instilled in him the understanding that to rule a people fairly, the king must understand them. To truly understand them, he must become one of them. And so, from an early age, Gregor had farmed, tending to the flocks and worked in the fields with his peers.
    Before they reached the house, Camille was through the front door, running down the path, her arms flung wide. She hit Gregor with the force of a catapult, taking him in her arms and burying her head in his chest. He pulled her even closer and held her tight, his heart content at her presence. It had ever been so between them, the bond of brother and sister without the genetic ties that common parents provide.
    When she regained her composure, the beautiful, flaxen-haired Camille tilted her head back and looked up at his smiling face.
    “You have been gone too many years, Gregor.”
    “From what Haslane tells me, you have not pined away my absence,” he replied. “Stealing my brother and convincing our parents to agree to the marriage must have taken some persuasion.”
    “He came willingly,” she teased, glancing toward Haslane who stood close by, watching the touching scene.
    “I always knew he was smart,” Gregor said.
    Again Camille tightened her grip on him for several seconds, then stepped back and took his hand. “Your mother waits,” she said, pulling him toward the royal residence.
    They entered the house and took the stairs on the right, climbing to the front parlor where his mother, Queen Cassandra, stood by the window. She turned as Gregor approached.
    He bowed slightly, acknowledging her authority, and then took her in his arms.
    “Mother.”
    “The joy of your homecoming is overshadowed by sorrow, my son,” she said softly.
    “Haslane has told me. Is there nothing to be done?”
    The elderly woman shook her head. “We must accept what has entered our