And So It Begins Read Online Free Page B

stare. “When did it arrive? When ?”
    “Within the last hour, my lord.”
    Kherin’s mind worked the timing. Gravlorn was four days’ ride at a Defender company pace, perhaps three for a lone messenger, less for a messenger bearing words of urgency. For Ren to have arrived at this hour, when it was nearing the evening bells, and bearing a message such as this, the ride from the border would have been harried. The message was likely no more than two days old at most.
    He moved suddenly, brushing past the girls without another word. He ignored the looks of the other servants as he moved through the kitchen to the servants’ stair that led directly to his father’s offices on the second floor. With the arrival of the message so recently, Kherin had no doubt he would find his father still there.
    He wasn’t disappointed. King Kellian Rhylle, Llarien’s most recent ruler in the bloodline of kings, was seated in a cloth-covered chair behind a desk cluttered with sheets of parchment, sharpened quills, and bottles of ink. Even dressed in his less formal robes, even with his raven hair hanging loose about his shoulders, Kellian still projected the very essence of royalty. His strong-featured visage was held in complete control as he scanned the slip of parchment he held in a steady grip, sitting so still even a mediocre painter would have had no trouble capturing the angles. It was only a moderate relief to find the king alone, with neither his aide nor the messenger present. Ren, or so Clarice had said. Kherin vowed he would find him later.
    His father didn’t so much as glance up as Kherin stormed into the room, didn’t twitch so much as a muscle as his son came to an abrupt halt less than a foot from the desk. Kherin scowled. He was well used to this from his father, and he knew a single word from him now would be all it would take to delay his purpose in coming here in favor of another royal lecture about protocol, respect, and manners in general, a tirade his father no doubt hoped to deliver. Kherin was determined not to give him the satisfaction this time.
    He crossed his arms instead and fought his growing impatience for this game to be played out. He stared at the portrait of the queen mother that hung behind the king, filling the space between two long windows that overlooked a private courtyard caught in the death throes of autumn, and the only section of wall that was not covered in shelves lined with enough books and parchment sheets to rival the royal library. Her eyes, in the shadows, appeared wary.
    “You’ve heard the news from the border.”
    Kherin’s gaze shifted sharply to his father. The words were spoken without preamble, without the king even looking up from the sheet in his hand. And they were spoken with no more inflection than if he had said that rain was falling on his garden.
    Kherin’s mouth tightened, and the blood pounded in his veins as he waited. Surprisingly, he didn’t have to wait long.
    “The Mountain Roamers have become more aggressive than usual,” his father continued after only a moment or two of silence, though his eyes remained fixed on the page in his hands. “More of them cross the Ford every week, and they do so in numbers that are growing larger with each crossing.”
    Kherin’s scowl deepened, but he held his silence. The Mountain Roamers was the name that had been given to the northerners at some point in the past, most likely because their villages were rumored hidden in the mountain range far north of the kingdom’s border, behind the plains that stretched between the foothills and the river. And while Trian’s Ford may be a broad expanse of water, it could easily be crossed in the shallower places. As the northerners had apparently learned. But he had known that much already.
    “At the moment, their concern seems to be centering on Gravlorn.”
    “Gravlorn?” Kherin repeated before he could think better of it. Derek had mentioned them appearing around Dennor,