Free The Seer And The Sword by Victoria Hanley Page A

love him?’
    ‘Yes. Of course I love him. We’re to be married! I’ve known for a while that he will be king. I have seen it.’
    She urged her horse forward. Landen manoeuvred so as not to give ground.
    ‘Did you tell him about the crystal?’
    Torina blushed, recalling that as a child she’d told this young man many secrets. Why was he asking her about it now? But then, when had she last seen him alone? She tried to remember.
    ‘No. No one knows about the crystal, except my grandmother, and . . .’ She felt uneasy and wondered why.
    ‘I see. You haven’t told him. Then perhaps you know.’
    ‘Know? Know what?’
    ‘He’s not the man you think him.’
    ‘Let me pass. I want to join my betrothed.’
    Landen’s intensive stare cut into her happy glow, like harsh sunlight wakening a dreamer. ‘He’s not who you think he is.’
    Heat flooded her body. ‘You know his heart better than I?’ she flared.
    ‘I see more than you.’
    ‘This is hardly gallant, sir.’ She took refuge in cold courtesy.
    ‘He cares nothing for you, Princess,’ the relentless voice continued.
    ‘He loves me!’
    ‘He loves the crown you will one day wear.’
    ‘How dare you! Be off!’
    Landen grabbed her bridle. ‘King Kareed will never have a son. Whoever marries you will be the king!’
    ‘I told you – I know Vesputo will be king. I saw it. Now get away from me. I want to meet my love.’
    ‘He has another.’
    ‘Liar! My crystal would have told me.’
    ‘Your crystal might not tell you what you can see with your own eyes if you would open them!’
    Torina felt suddenly weak. How could Landen have guessed that she never saw her own future?
    ‘There’s nothing to see.’ She was desperate for him to be gone.
    ‘It’s Irene.’
    The words thudded into her chest. She clutched the saddlehorn like a novice rider, dizzy with anguish.
    ‘You lie.’ She fumbled for her dagger, brandishing itwith shaking hands. Landen dropped her bridle and backed away.
    ‘If I wanted to tell lies, they wouldn’t be the kind to earn your anger, Princess.’
    He wheeled his horse, leaving Torina looking at the dagger trembling in her fist.
    ‘I won’t believe it,’ she whispered to the trees.
    Torina stayed sheltered until the sky was streaked with rose. When she emerged, she took the direct path home, knowing they’d be looking for her; probably searching everywhere but the common trails she never used. By riding openly, she managed to avoid the servants out beating the woods for a glimpse of her.
    She left her horse near the stable and decided to go in one of the back entrances. The one she chose was reached through a long, open walkway of stone, with small intimate benches set in pillared recesses looking out on the formal gardens. When the season cooled, as now, it was rarely used and the rosebushes stood drooping and brown. Ornamental lanterns, kept lit in warmer months, hung empty and dark, the walkway very dim. Torina walked with the rapid, silent step practised since childhood during play with Landen. She went past dusty benches that a few weeks earlier had held laughing couples, remembering the times Vesputo had met her here. The way he looked at her then, the words he spoke, surely they were true? What man could
pretend
such devotion?
    Soft sighs of lovers nearby caught her ears. Sheshrank into a recess, not wanting to be discovered here now, with her face tear-streaked.
    ‘I couldn’t wait to see you alone,’ someone whispered.
    ‘But we must be careful, my love.’ A strong, quiet voice, and Torina’s heart thudded like galloping hooves on the plains.
    It was Vesputo.
    She cowered where she was, afraid. She forced herself to breathe shallow and quiet, though her lungs wanted to explode in screams.
My love!
Who was he calling his love? Hidden huddled against a cold stone pillar, Torina listened to their kisses.
    ‘You’re the queen of my heart,’ she heard.
    ‘What about her?’ A female voice floated down the