Ashes of Roses (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 4) Read Online Free

about I had to do to keep my stepmother, if not precisely happy, at least quiescent.
    It was time to draw water from the well. Our house was situated on a small cul-de-sac that it shared with four other homes, and in the center of the street where it dead-ended was the well where we got all our water. That was one thing about Iselfex — fresh water was easy enough to come by. Indeed, the very name of the city meant “place of the wells” in the language of those who had founded it.
    I fetched the two heavy wooden buckets from their place by the back door and went out. At once the smells of the town met my nose — smoke, and spent grease, and beneath it the damp, warm scent of the river, which lay only a hundred yards or so from the house. The sun was already hot, despite it being barely the fourth hour of the morning. I could feel the perspiration start under the kerchief that bound my hair and begin to trickle down my neck.
    Nothing for it, though. I grasped the buckets more tightly and made my way to the well, keeping my gaze studiously downcast. I had been scolded more times than I cared to recall over being what my stepmother called too “bold” — which apparently meant looking about me as I walked. Perhaps she wished me to be invisible altogether, and believed that if I did not gaze at other people, then they would not look at me.
    Even so, only a few months earlier one of the footmen from the Marenhalls’ household had offered to carry the buckets for me, declaring I was far too frail for such a chore. I had tried to demur, for in fact I was stronger than I looked, but he had insisted, taking my burden from me and walking with me to the back door. Oh, what a row that caused! For my stepsister Jenaris saw the whole thing, and went tattling to her mother, and I was most vigorously chastised for encouraging male attention. Of course I had not, but I knew there was no point in trying to explain that to my stepmother.
    She must have said something to Mistress Marenhall, for the tall young footman never approached me again. Perhaps in my heart I experienced a small pang, as kind words were few and far between for me, and that was the first time a young man had even dared to approach me, but any protests would have resulted in punishment far worse than a harsh scolding and a hungry night with no supper.
    I went to the well, and attached my first bucket to the rope there and lowered it. A splash as the pail met water, and then I began to haul the heavy bucket upward, my hands hardened by now to the rough hemp rope, the dead weight of it as I slowly drew it back toward me — slowly, for if I spilled too much, I would only have to go back and fill it once again.
    With care I set it down at my feet, and began to attach the second bucket. I had just dropped it over the side of the well when a rider on a fine blood bay came clattering down the street, unrolled a piece of heavy paper, and called out in a strong, commanding voice,
    “Hear ye, good people of Iselfex! His Imperial Majesty, Torric Deveras, has let it be known that he wishes to seek a bride from among his own people. All young women of gentle birth between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two are hereby invited to attend a series of celebrations, beginning with a tournament on the first of Octevre, and culminating in a grand ball on the fifth of that month, so that his Majesty may make the acquaintance of these young women and make one of them his wife. So he has said, and so will it be done.”
    And with that the rider dismounted. Only then did I realize he wore the silver and black of the Imperial house, his doublet of black velvet slashed with silver tissue, a brooch in the shape of the Imperial device, an eagle with wings outstretched, holding his cloak closed at his throat. All in all, it must have been an uncomfortably hot ensemble for such a warm day, and I found myself pitying the young man somewhat.
    He went to the wood and stone wall that enclosed our