Tales of loathsome tyrants and prophesied saviors aren't nearly so appealing when you are a royal bastard with a prophecy hanging over your head.


"Kgh!" I swallow more coughs. I sniffle, clumsily drinking broth before a blazing fire in one of Prince Aidan's guest rooms. I vaguely remember the carriage ride back, but it's a pain-filled haze, the bench too hard and the clatter too loud.

I'm wrapped in blankets. I don't know why I'm here. Or where anyone is. Is Silva all right? I haven't seen her since…

My head swims.

As if from far away, I hear Aidan arguing with some noblemen. He's saying something about a treaty. His father speaks too, but quietly enough that I can't distinguish any words.

After more undertones, I grimace from a yell.

"Carling's dead! Her heiress inherits the terms!"

Before drifting back asleep, I idly wonder what the noblemen have a problem with…

No comments:

Post a Comment

This web novel is listed in Web Fiction Guide and Muse's Success. (Both are directories of online novels, stories, etc.)