Free The Tears of the Rose by Jeffe Kennedy Page A

Zevondeth in the midst of court. Really she shouldn’t be wearing her sword with that dress—the lines were all wrong—but no one short of Uorsin could make Ursula take off her sword.
    Thus all the jokes about her sword being Ursula’s only lover. Not looking in Zevondeth’s black gaps, I held out my hand and gazed up at Glorianna’s window, praying to Her for strength. I wished that if Glorianna was whispering Her will to me, She’d speak more loudly. Though I’d claimed to have visions of Glorianna—mostly when I was younger—I’d never gotten a real message from Her. Part of me felt fragile, like that brittle glass about to be smashed. She offered me none of Her strength now.
    Zevondeth’s hand grasped mine, tight enough that the palsy that shook her spread up my arm. Hopefully it was from age, not disease. I imagined my skin shriveling like hers, my eyes turning into white marbles. The rose window seemed to mock me with Glorianna’s silence, and I scanned the sea of faces avidly watching the spectacle.
    My gaze snagged on an apple-green stare. The White Monk, with his face hidden by his monk’s cowl, but somehow that color penetrated the shadows, laying me open with his hatred and scorn.
    â€œIt is a boy,” Zevondeth declared. And, oddly, she winked at me.
    Rather than looking devastated by the news, Ursula furrowed her brow in confusion. Why she’d believed Andi could predict the future, I didn’t know.
    I was getting tired of this.
    â€œThen my grandson shall be born here, at the seat of my power,” Uorsin declared. “Princess Amelia shall stay by my side, where she belongs.” He took my hand and held it, strangely making me feel more captured than cherished.
    â€œAnd what of Avonlidgh and justice, High King?” Erich demanded. Several angry voices joined in, forming a chorus of unrest. “Are we to remain a defeated people, continually plagued by our enemy?”
    â€œWe are at peace with the Tala,” Derodotur spoke firmly. “The alliance of the royal houses is intact and all treaties hold. There is no defeat.”
    â€œThen my son gave his life for a treaty that did not change?” Erich made it sound absurd. “I find it hard to believe, High King Uorsin—and remember that I was there when you sacked Aerron and gave no quarter to your enemy—that you would accept this so calmly.”
    The regal ambassador from Aerron, of an age to have been there also, inclined her head, a bitter line to her mouth.
    â€œYou were also there when I took Castle Avonlidgh, weren’t you, Erich?” Uorsin’s tone held deadly threat. “You fought me and failed then. Do you care to pit yourself against me a second time, now that I have all the might of the eleven other kingdoms behind me?”
    Erich made a show of looking around the court room, which had fallen mostly silent, save a few whispers here and there, to better hear every word of this exchange. Then Old Erich’s gaze fell on my mother’s empty throne. “It seems to me that you lack certain . . . assistance you enjoyed then. How will you keep what you hold, with Salena gone and the Tala in possession of the heir to her power?”

6
    T he great hall reverberated with the hush of utter shock and apprehension. No one dared move, lest they draw Uorsin’s mighty rage upon themselves.
    Old Erich—not so stooped, icy-blue eyes glittering with challenge—faced the High King without fear. Did he have a death wish? Had Hugh’s loss so unbalanced him?
    â€œ ’Tis treason to speak those names in this noble hall,” Uorsin replied, as if musing over a riddle. “What game do you play with me, my old enemy? Surely you don’t believe this bear has lost his teeth.”
    â€œDon’t I?” Erich returned calmly. “I see no bites taken out of our enemy. Instead my people and yours lick their wounds this