Free The Shadow's Heir (The Risen Sun) by K. J. Taylor Page A

quickened.
    King Arenadd was already coming to meet her. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
    Laela swallowed. “I . . . yeah.”
    “Good. Now, come and sit with me.”
    It didn’t sound like a request. Laela thought he probably wasn’t used to having people say no. She walked numbly over to the chair he indicated and sat in it. There was food laid out on the table in front of it.
    The King returned to his original seat—directly opposite her. “Help yourself. You must be hungry.”
    Laela looked uncertainly at the bread, milk, and fruit. For a moment, she wondered if it could be poisoned. But what sense did
that
make? If he wanted her dead, he would have seen to it already.
    “Go on,” he interrupted. “It’s perfectly fine.”
    Just do what he tells yeh,
she told herself.
Just play along.
    Arenadd nodded in apparent satisfaction as she helped herself to an apple. “Settling in all right?”
    Laela swallowed. “It’s nice here, Sire.”
    “Good. Don’t let me interrupt.”
    He sat in silence and watched her eat, apparently in no hurry to do anything or eat anything himself. He was still wearing the robe he’d put on the previous night, and if anything, he looked even paler and gaunter than he had then.
    It was one of the most uncomfortable meals of Laela’s life, but she was too hungry to stop. She ate her fill, and then looked uncertainly at her host.
    “Finished?”
    Laela nodded mutely.
    Instantly, Arenadd summoned a servant to clear away the leftovers. “You look a little happier now,” he said once they were alone again. “Now then. I was hoping that, while you’re here, we could have a little chat.”
    Laela kept her eyes on his face. “All right . . . Sire. Uh . . . yeah. Sure. Sire.”
    “Calm down. Now, I was just wondering . . .”
    Laela watched him. Where was this going?
    Arenadd paused. For a moment, he looked very slightly confused, but the moment passed, and he was impassive again. “You told me last night you’d come from the South. Obviously, going by your accent, you’ve lived there all your life.”
    “Yes, Sire.”
    He sat back. “Do tell me about it.”
    Laela blinked. “What, the South? Sire?”
    “Yes, the South. I haven’t been there in a very long time.”
    Now, hearing his voice and free of the distraction and tiredness of the previous night, Laela finally noticed what was odd about the way he spoke. “Yeh sound like a Southerner,” she said, without thinking. “Yeh don’t talk like a b— a Northerner. Sire.” She felt herself going red.
Gryphus, girl, keep yer damned mouth shut!
    Arenadd’s expression did not waver. “I was born in the South,” he said evenly. “I didn’t come here until after the Night God had chosen me.”
    Laela shivered internally.
The Night God’s creature.
“Well, I . . . uh . . . I was brought up in Sturrick,” she stammered. “Sire. Uh . . .”
    “Yes? So where is this place, exactly? I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”
    “Er . . . well, it’s a village, Sire,” said Laela. “Bigger than most, but not really a town. Farmers, mostly, but it’s on the trade route, so there are some merchants. I’d say it’s due t’get bigger some day, Sire.”
    “I see. How far away is it from the Northgates?”
    “Not sure, Sire. Not that far. I didn’t take too long t’get there—reckon I could’ve walked it in a month or two.”
    Arenadd nodded slowly. “Hm. What did you see along the way?”
    “Not much, Sire,” said Laela. “Villages, countryside . . . not much else. No big cities ’round there. Didn’t see my first one till I got here, Sire. City, I mean. That was Malvern.”
    “Good, good. No griffiners?”
    “No, Sire. Never even saw a griffin till I came here.” She thought briefly of the one she had seen by the grave—but why mention it?
    “What about the people, then?” said Arenadd. “The ones you talked to. What did they say?”
    “About what, Sire?” said