The Seer - eARC Read Online Free Page B

they—
    He veered from the thought.
    The side streets were lavish with rows of trees and gardens fronting the gated compounds of the Eight Great Houses, each painted and jeweled in its two-tone colors, the roof lines sparkling brilliant in the sun’s first rays.
    And then the palace walls, beyond which was the Jewel of the Empire, dwarfing even the Great Houses with its size, stonework, and high towers, pink and alabaster stones sun-touched and glinting. The Cohort had sometimes been tutored in those towers, using the view of the ocean and surrounding forests to discuss the crown’s history and economics, but most tower rooms were reserved as lodging for inconvenient royals, like the king’s mother, whom no one ever saw. Housing for those the king didn’t want to see but whose missteps weren’t egregious enough for execution.
    Not the worst outcome, he supposed.
    No, he thought. He wasn’t important enough. A mutt did not rot in the towers.
    At the gate, his mare strained forward toward the promise of food, trotting to the front of the long line waiting for entrance, staring at him intently, as were the guards and bowmen two levels overhead on the parapet wall. He was recognized and waved through. One guard nodded sharply at another, who took off at speed.
    Well, at least his welcome would not be overly delayed.
    At the stables he dismounted. Stablehands took the reins, reached for the body.
    “No,” he said sharply. “Leave it.”
    With stiff fingers from the long ride and cold morning, untying the knots took frustratingly longer, but he would accept no help. He pulled the long bundle off the horse and onto his own shoulders, holding the legs and arms of the now-rigid body out to either side.
    His mare was led away. Tired and hungry, but no worse for the journey.
    Unlike his brother.
    He met the widening eyes of stablehands. That he and his brother had left within hours of each other, very much without permission, was no secret from them. In their looks he saw them draw conclusions, step back.
    Afraid. Of him. Of what he carried. Of what it meant.
    A young woman rushed to the doors ahead of him. At a glance he took in the balance of her loyalty to the crown versus her allegiance to her House; dressed in the monarchy’s red and black, only the yellow trim on her boots and cuffs marked her as a child of House Elupene. She yanked open both doors, dropped back and away.
    Belatedly it occurred to him that it would have been prudent to have taken off his cloak to reveal his own red and black. To do so now would mean putting his brother down. He would not.
    As he walked the path from stables to the palace’s back entrance, he passed faces he knew. A green-and-cream-liveried servant. A pair of red-uniformed soldiers. A cook. A triad of scribes. All backed away, gazes flickering from his face to what he carried.
    Srel, out of breath, dashed to his side.
    “Ser, what. Ah—”
    The smaller man fell suddenly quiet, his gaze solidly on Innel’s burden.
    Innel and his brother had rescued Srel from the streets many years ago, when he’d been a scrawny, starving teen, and Srel had given them his stubborn loyalty since.
    “What—” Srel began again.
    “Talk later,” Innel managed. He wondered if Srel’s loyalty would survive the day.
    Irrelevant, though, if he himself did not.
    The door of the palace back entrance opened inward. He climbed the steps. Scullery and laundry servants stared, gape-mouthed, hastily retreating back into doorways to make room.
    Innel considered the various routes through the many-floored structure that would get him to the royal wing where the king might see him.
    Or might not. Might have him arrested and thrown in the dungeon to await judgment. Might have him tossed into commoners’ jail down-city.
    Might have him questioned to find out what had really happened. Innel had witnessed a number of the king’s interrogations over the years and had finally come to realize what should have been