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

announcement of his plan of action.”
    “But he does not have one,” Bronwen lamented as she rubbed her stomach. “Why did Owain wish for you to speak of this to me? I am his wife, but Owain knows I cannot bid Rhodri to do anything. The High King answers to no one.”
    “You and I spoke some time ago. I told you that Cærwyn would not so easily shun a queen as leader.”
    “I have no claim‌—‌”
    “You carry within you the High King’s child. No one expects you to murder your husband for the throne, but you must lead your people when he cannot.”
    Bronwen stood from her chair and walked to the fire. She held out her hands to warm them, deep in thought. The heat was soon too much for her, however, and she felt the first tiny trickle of sweat slide down her neck.
    “I do not wish to speak more of this,” she said. “I cannot go against my husband’s will.”
    “He has no will!” Mara shouted. “He does not lead Cærwyn badly. He does not lead at all!”
    “Keep your voice down. Even I cannot save you from imprisonment if you are overheard denouncing the king.”
    Mara slumped back in her chair.
    “What you would have of me is…” Bronwen struggled with her words. “It is a betrayal of my marriage. I am not so quick to dismiss Rhodri’s ability to rule. He has yet to find his bearings as High King. He must have time.”
    “Time is not a luxury afforded to him in these tenuous days we live in.”
    Bronwen wiped the sweat from her brow as another hot spell washed over her. Were Rhodri killed, she would certainly not go unharmed. She carried the High King’s child within her, and while she lived she remained an obstacle to anyone who sought the crown for himself.
    A loud, swift knock interrupted her thoughts.
    “Enter!” she called out.
    The door opened, and a man Bronwen did not recognize bowed before her. “My lady.”
    Mara immediately stood and placed herself between the man and Bronwen. “How dare you come unaccompanied into the queen’s bedchamber?”
    “Forgive my intrusion.” He remained bowed, his eyes on the floor. “I bring ill news of grave importance for Her Majesty.”
    “Speak quickly.” Mara’s tongue clacked against her teeth as she stood poised to protect her queen.
    “I bring word from Annwyd, my lady.” He finally straightened, revealing the sigil of the serpent, her father’s house, on his tunic.
    “From my father?”
    “No, Your Majesty…‌His Royal Highness Braith Denorheim, king of Annwyd, is dead.”
    He continued to speak, but Bronwen could not understand the words. His voice twisted into a garbled mess. She balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Her head swam, and she wondered why the room had grown dark. And then she felt a pain which ripped through her core.
    * * *
    “Bronwen!” Mara screamed as her queen fell forward, barely managing to catch her. She felt warm liquid gush forth from between Bronwen’s legs, and knew that the child was on its way.
    “Fetch help!” she shouted at the stammering messenger, reeling back to Bronwen when she groaned. “Hush now, child. All is well.”
    Although she felt her heart thump wildly against her chest, she did not permit her fear to show. Bronwen was barely two seasons along‌—‌much too early to give birth. They both knew it. But she would not discuss that now. Her top priority was to make certain her queen survived, even if the child was lost.
    She helped her onto the bed, propping her head against pillows and then lifting her swollen feet. Much to her horror, she saw a large blood stain forming on the lap of her queen’s dress. “Quick with the rags and water!” she shouted.
    As the day passed into night, Bronwen drifted in and out of lucidity. Mara never left her side, while young girls, ladies-in-waiting, chattered about her like birds in spring.
    “Here, here, she must eat.” One of the girls held out a piece of raw stag liver, saved for the pregnant queen from the king’s hunt two