Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

alight with your eyes, I believe, Prince Razem." Emran Kho himself, dressed in his characteristic linen and wool, breeches tucked neatly into his boot tops, shirt buttoned to the neck. He was a tall man with black skin and broad shoulders, and Razem had always privately thought he had the most wistful smile in the world. Their relationship had always been distant, but polite.
    Razem's rage boiled over. "Did you know what the king was planning?"
    Kho straightened, his hands loose at his sides. "I knew I would receive orders today, highness, if that is what you mean. But I did not--still do not--know what those orders may be."
    His forthright address soothed the roughest of Razem's temper, though it did not make him any more patient. Razem scowled and folded his arms across his chest.
    "My father, in his infinite wisdom, has agreed to a prisoner exchange with Strid. You and I are to travel to Salishok with Duke Anyet Oler so we can get the Hawk back from his Strid prison cell."
    The effect these words had on Kho disappointed Razem. The general didn't even blink. He merely said, "So that is the king's will. When shall we leave?"
    Razem opened his mouth to respond, then drew in a long breath. He was going to have to travel halfway across the kingdom with Kho, and he had always liked the man. He didn't need to be at odds with him. "The king didn't see fit to inform me," he said, only a hint of acid in his voice. He took another breath, feeling his heartbeat slow infinitesimally. "But I imagine we leave at our earliest possible convenience."
    Kho nodded. "Am I to attend the king?"
    "He told me to consult with you about the escort." Razem finally mastered himself enough to smile crookedly at Kho. "I assume that means you and I are to plan all the details, subject to his approval."
    "Very good, highness. Shall I accompany you to your quarters? We shall begin planning at once."
     
    ***
     
    "--and that's for Da when he gets back from the quarry!"
    Arisanat paused in the passageway and glanced at a passing servant. The man moved closer. "The Lady Rija is within, my lord," he murmured. "She and Master Variden have a...project, I believe they are calling it."
    Arisanat raised an eyebrow and tiptoed to the archway into his son's rooms.
    "I think he'll like it," Rija was saying. "You got her hair and eyes right. Will you give it to him now? I think I heard his carriage in the courtyard."
    "Not until it's done. I haven't got Uncle Venra in it yet."
    Arisanat's throat tightened. Variden had only been four when Venra was killed. He couldn't possibly remember much about his uncle, but Arisanat and Rija talked about him to Variden. He drew in a long breath and stepped back from the archway.
    "By the winds, I come home after a long journey and the only one to greet me is the chamberlain? Don't I have a son, or did the horse traders finally steal him away?"
    "Da!" There was a clatter inside the room and then Variden ran out to the passage. He launched himself into Arisanat's arms.
    "Oof--you're too big, I'll drop you," Arisanat teased, pretending to lose his grip. Variden shrieked with laughter and wrapped his arms and legs around his father. Arisanat kissed his son's temple. "Did you miss your da, Vari?"
    "I did! Aunt Rija wouldn't let me ride my pony or play in the courtyard fountain or anything !"
    Arisanat glanced over Variden's head at his sister, who had come out of the room and was leaning on the door frame. "Aunt Rija, that's dreadful."
    "I know, I'm horrible. I made him do all his lessons and practice his singing, and I even made him help the chambermaid tidy his room, since he'd thrown his building set all over." She was grinning as she complained, though, her eyes twinkling.
    "Thank you for taking time to correct his hoydenish ways," Arisanat said. "I suppose this is what comes of a man trying to raise a child all by himself." He tickled Variden, and the sound of his son's giggle made his eyes sting. Gods, he loved the boy. He was