King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) Read Online Free

smirking like a povvercat. Siv resisted the urge to glare back at him. Mostly.
    “I will do what is best for the people of Vertigon,” Siv said. “As landholders, it’s your responsibility to ensure that our mountain’s industries run smoothly. For now, that means making sure all of our produce can be preserved before First Snow.” He looked around at the noblemen, intending to fix them each with a kingly stare, but they were already losing interest in what he was saying. How had his father gotten them all to pay attention so well? Siv cleared his throat loudly. “As for the rest,” he met Bolden’s eyes, “I’ll put the younger Lord Rollendar here in charge of surveying every bridge in Vertigon and reporting any repair work needed before First Snow. Bring your requests to him. It’s a sizeable, tedious job, but I’m sure Lord Bolden can handle it.”
    Bolden’s smile froze, and you could have chilled a bottle of wine in the space between him and Siv.
    After what felt like an hour, he said, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
    “Good,” Siv said. “Now, how about those goat farms?”
    When the council meeting ended, Siv felt like he’d been circling his dueling hall at a dead run for the past two hours. Why did politics have to be so complicated? Worse, it was damn boring. Every single nobleman had a request for funds or special treatment from the crown. As often as not, at least one nobleman was mortally opposed to whatever another required. Siv spent the whole time settling disputes and parsing out what each party really wanted. And that was when he wasn’t being forced to call the council to attention again as they squabbled and chatted amongst themselves. So much for his plans to captivate the nobles through sheer force of personality.
    The council members milled around the chambers after the meeting, speaking to each other in tight groups. None of them approached him. They seemed all too willing to carry on the business of the kingdom without much input from the king. That didn’t bode well for Siv’s future as ruler. He had hoped they would appreciate a little youthful energy on the council. In truth, they didn’t take his suggestions all that seriously, especially with Bolden thwarting him at every turn. He was going to have to do something about that man—and soon.
    He wished he had an uncle or other relative on the council, someone to be a guide and an ally. His father had been an only child, and his mother’s family all lived down in Trure. He felt exposed and vulnerable without his father, even without the grief that still snuck up on him when he least expected it. House Amintelle held the throne, but its landholdings were relatively small. They had won the crown by virtue of his great-grandfather’s strength as a Firewielder, but the days when magic workers held political power in Vertigon were long gone. The other nobles owned the entire kingdom’s orchards, goat and pony farms, and many of the Fireshops, and demonstrating his family’s power was difficult.
    As the nobles shuffled out of the council chambers, Lady Tull Denmore lingered at the door, speaking to her advisor in a quiet voice. She was a beautiful woman, young and delicate and sad. She was also the fabulously wealthy head of a major noble house, one that had blended with her own House Ferrington when she married Lord Denmore. The Ferringtons controlled one of the major access roads to the Fissure, and the Denmores owned most of the goat paddocks on Village Peak. Since the tragic death of her young husband, Tull had become very powerful indeed. Siv had intended to propose to her just before his father’s death—or else find a powerful bride in his mother’s home country of Trure—but that scheme had fallen by the wayside. Something—or rather someone—kept holding him back.
    Siv wasn’t in the mood to talk to Lady Tull after his underwhelming performance at the council meeting, but he spotted Bolden waiting for her outside the