Free The Keeper's Flame (A Pandoran Novel, #2) by Barbara Kloss Page A

man with the matter-of-fact voice stepped forward.
    Without taking his eyes off Thad, Lorimer said, “I’ll take the princess and the Daloren back to the castle.”
    “Right, then,” Thad said, walking toward Fleck and me.
    “You,” Lorimer continued, glaring at Thad, “will stay here and help Grag monitor the roads in my absence.”
    Thad folded his arms. “Hey, now, I don’t see why I can’t go back to the castle with them—”
    Lorimer held the point of his sword against Thad’s throat, and Thad’s lips twitched into a smile.
    “Do not push me, Thaddeus,” Lorimer growled. “Don’t think that because you are an Aegis of Valdon that you are exempt from common law. The king will hear of this and I’ll make sure you are punished accordingly.”
    Thad looked at Lorimer like that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Uh, why not just let him punish me now?”
    Lorimer pushed the sword closer, and Thad held up his hands. “All right, all right,” Thad said, “I’ll stay.”
    Lorimer held his sword there for a moment and, at last, shoved it in its sheath. Thad rubbed his neck looking quite annoyed, and glancing back at me, mouthed, “I’ll find you later,” nodding at the castle.
    Lorimer wrapped a thick hand around my arm and squeezed so hard I cried out.
    He glared at me, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “I’d grab the boy if I were you.”
    I grabbed Fleck’s trembling hand and squeezed gently as Lorimer escorted us away from Thad, back to the castle.
    “And just where did you think you were going?” Lorimer growled.
    “That’s none of your—”
    Lorimer turned on me so fast I almost fell. His eyes were dark with contempt. “I don’t care that King Darius is your grandfather. I don’t care that you claim to have no magic.” The smell of tobacco was heavy on his breath. “You are a liar and a thief, and I will do everything in my power to ensure Gaia knows that.” He nodded towards Fleck. “Do we understand each other?”
    I set my mouth and held his gaze.
    “Good,” he said, and kept walking.
    He didn’t say another word as he escorted us through the marketplace—people turned to stare and whisper—back up the hill to the castle, all the way to the king’s private study.
    The guards took one look at us and pushed the doors in.
    I’d never been in the king’s study before, although I’d walked past it countless times. It was the king’s private study, which meant if the room was occupied at all, it would be with the king, and I didn’t particularly enjoy his company.
    The room was tall and perfectly round, and all along the walls were tapestries—beautiful, intricately woven tapestries. Landscapes and cathedrals and forests and sunsets. If these were what that man at the marketplace had been trying to sell, his were a poor imitation. There was a sort of energy pulsing through them, through each knot, each thread, as if the power of each and every fiber had been strengthened by the one beside it.
    The floor was made of marble but patterned and, as I studied it, I realized it wasn’t just any pattern. It was a large map of the world, a giant mosaic of Gaia. Small, silver tiles represented the borders between territories, while smaller, colored tiles depicted trees and rivers and lakes. There were even small mosaic flags embedded within each territory, similar to the flags I’d seen at the marketplace.
    And what at first glance appeared to be simple wooden sculptures were actually figures of horses, standing on hind legs with knights poised on their backs. Exactly like the knight on a chessboard. At the end of the room was the king, my grandfather.
    His white hair hid his face as he sat, leaning over a small table, deep in thought. Sensing us, he glanced up. His pale eyes were blank at first, and he observed Fleck coolly, but then his eyes moved to me and his anger bubbled inside of him.
    He already knew.
    He stood and clasped his hands before him, his black robes