Free Trials of the Hierophant: Vol. II of epic fantasy The Sundered Kingdoms Trilogy by Ethan Risso Page A

Grigor’s voice boomed. “We can’t have this.”
    Icy cold water drenched Kendric’s body, and he cried out.
    “Confess to your crimes,” said Grigor Boraste, standing before him with the wooden pail still in hand.
    “I have not‌—‌”
    “There is no use denying your guilt.” Valifor spat through his teeth. “Merely confess and we shall allow you to live.”
    Kendric could not, would not, confess.
    Grigor signaled Valifor once more. He lifted the brand and smashed it into Kendric’s side. His hoarse scream filled the room as he lurched forward in agony. Eyes stinging with sweat and tears, he began to sob.
    “Why do you protect them when they do not seek to save you from such treatment?” Grigor placed his hand gently on Kendric’s shoulder, studying him closely. “Bring the reed and ink.”
    Kendric felt his ropes loosen, and he collapsed into the arms of two guards. His stomach seized as their leather armor grazed his wounds.
    “Sign,” said Grigor Boraste, holding out a reed pen to him.
    “Sign it,” Valifor echoed, emphasizing his order by digging his finger into Kendric’s side.
    Kendric tried to grasp the pen, but his hand trembled too violently. Grigor gripped his fingers and helped him hold onto it. He slowly dipped the pen in the gall ink and touched it to the vellum confession. It took all his effort to scribble a quaking signature.
    “Clean him up,” Valifor told the two guards. “We still need him alive.”

Chapter VIII

    ronwen sat before the crackling fire, stifling yawns and fighting to keep her eyes open as Mara prattled on about Rhodri. It was a diatribe she had heard many times before, and it tired her terribly.
    “The maladies of the king cannot be ignored!” Mara insisted. “He would sooner stay the day in bed than see to affairs of court.”
    “You may have been my caretaker since I was a child,” Bronwen snapped, “but I am now your queen, and you shall speak to me with the respect I deserve.”
    “You have my apologies, my lady.” Mara sighed, and sank deep into thought before she continued. “I speak so because I care for your well-being. I worry that‌—‌”
    “Yes, yes, you worry the king is not doing his proper duties, and that I should attempt to sway him. If you had any sense about you at all, you would see that I cannot sway the king. He does not come to me for aid.”
    “My lady, I worry that his actions put you in mortal danger.” She clasped Bronwen’s hands, tears in her eyes.
    “Mara,” Bronwen said, her voice softening, “you must not fret so.”
    “Do you not understand why I worry? If the nobles decry the king, he could be…‌replaced.”
    “There is no provision to replace the High King of‌—‌”
    “Unless he is killed.”
    Bronwen stared blankly. It was a fear which had haunted her for some time now, but she had not the stomach to speak it aloud, even to Mara.
    “My lady, the Lord Owain, Steward of Cærwyn, approached me early today.”
    “The steward spoke to you? He is not permitted to speak to ladies-in-waiting. It is forbidden.”
    “He wished to speak to me of a sensitive nature. He wished me to relay a message to you, my queen. I suggested he go through the proper channels and ask for an audience before you in court, but he could not.”
    “What message could he have for me? I have spoken little to him outside his tutelage in all the time I have been queen consort of the kingdom.”
    “It is a delicate matter. One that could be construed as treasonous in the wrong hands.”
    “Treason?” Bronwen leaned forward, placing a hand on her swollen belly. “What matters are these?”
    “He too harbors worries of the king’s well-being. Owain knew the king as a child, when he lived in the castle before becoming Duke Helygen. It seems that word of the king’s inaction is being whispered about by the nobles. The king is already coming under scrutiny for doing nothing in the face of war. They wish him to make a public