Prince of Swords Read Online Free Page B

have a proper bath straightaway, and new gowns will be made, and I will demand a soft bed with an energetic sentinel and a proper and thorough fucking.”
    The body of the young girl Lilia, which had been taken by Diella’s soul months ago, had once been vital and beautiful. The scar Ciro had left on Lilia’s cheek did not fade, but grew deeper and redder with time, as if it had become infected deep below the flesh. There was still some beauty left on that young face, in spite of the scar, but the vitality was being sapped day by day, sapped by Panwyr and hard living and constant travel.
    And by the babe, the Isen Demon whispered. The babe takes much.
    Their horses at a standstill, Ciro studied the palace which rose in the distance. That imperial palace had been his home, his only home, for twenty-two years, before the demon had taken him. If there had been much of the man he’d once been left in his body, he might have felt some warmth or comfort at the sight, but he felt no warmth these days, not for anything or anyone. Within the stone walls of that tall, austere palace there waited his father the emperor, who would soon be dead. There awaited the throne from which he would begin his rule.
    Suddenly a darkness crept into one corner of Ciro’s mind. He was able to see through the eyes of his Own when he so chose, and though he could not immediately tell where or how, some of his soldiers had very recently been killed. They no longer saw anything. He tried to place the darkness. His army had suffered some losses in weeks past as they fought against his father’s sentinels, but the loss he sensed had not come from that quarter.
    No, the loss came from much farther away; it came from the mountain home where his beloved Rayne waited for him.
    He could not see through her eyes. She was pure; she was not one of his Own. Not yet. Did she live? Or had she died with those whose command had been to protect her at all costs?
    Ciro turned his horse about. He was so close to the palace, and Rayne—if she lived—was so far away. But without her, there would be no special son. She was to be his empress; she had been promised to him from the beginning.
    She lives, the demon whispered in his mind.
    â€œHow can you be sure? If I can’t see—”
    Do you think you are my only instrument, Emperor Ciro? You might be the strongest, the most promising. You might be my most powerful general in this war, but you are not my only vessel. Others watch. Others will see that your bride comes to you.
    The startlingly clear vision in Ciro’s mind was one of dark tendrils rising out of the ground all across the country, and beyond. Those tendrils claimed and took charge of willing—and sometimes unwilling—bodies. All across the land, by the sea and in the mountains and in the swamplands, those vessels waited to be called.
    Take the throne, and Rayne will be delivered to you in good time.
    It was Diella’s grating voice which interrupted the demon’s promises.
    â€œStop dithering about. Let’s go claim what is rightfully ours.”
    Ciro would only stand so much, even from this woman. “I will claim what is rightfully mine, and you will take what I see fit to give you.”
    â€œYes, yes,” she said dismissively, waving her hand in his general direction. “Let us go and claim what is rightfully yours, my lord emperor.” Her smile was brilliant, only slightly crooked thanks to the scar.
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    R AYNE WAITED PATIENTLY, QUITE SURE THAT NONE OF Lyr’s men would find the crystal dagger.
    Her heart beat too fast and hard. It had been a long time since she’d thought about the dagger her mother had made so many years earlier. It had been a long time since Rayne had seen the weapon, and yet the details of the workings remained clear to her. Not only was the hilt made of a murky crystal, but so was the blade itself. The entire weapon had been carved from a crystal which