Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
So, no one thought it unusual when Agnes visited the castle from time to time. She and Eudora would spend hours discussing plants, remedies and whatever Agnes had learned since they'd last seen each other.
But healing wasn't all Agnes learned in her travels. People talked freely around a healer. They spoke of their troubles, their fears and the things they'd heard from others. Agnes listened.
Queen Eleanor had taught Eudora long ago that Agnes sometimes returned with information far more valuable to a queen than any healing plant she carried in her satchel.
A queen who hears only what her council tells her hears only what others wish her to know.
Eudora understood the wisdom of those words even more after taking the throne.
Agnes's most recent visit had troubled her.
There were names now. People whose existence could threaten Eudora's hold on the crown and perhaps Morra Mist itself.
She had told no one, not Wilford, not the commander of her warriors, and not a single member of her council.
Until she knew who she could trust, Agnes and everything she'd learned from her would remain Eudora's secret. Just like the three men she'd summoned.
Still, she had expected the three Lords to have arrived by now.
Her gaze traveled over the rooftops of Dunsire and to the road that disappeared beyond the town.
What if they had heard her and chosen not to answer? What if centuries of tales had become little more than tales passed down through generations. Or worse, what if she'd done something wrong when she summoned them?
“You’ve kept the council waiting long enough.”
Eudora turned from the window.
Wilford, her advisor, stood beside the table, several parchments tucked beneath one arm. He was a lean man, his neatly trimmed brown hair showing gray at the temples, his blue eyes sharp and attentive. His dark wool tunic was finely made but simply cut, suitable for a man who had spent many years in service to the crown.
“I was not aware I asked your opinion.”
“You rarely do, but it has never stopped me from giving it.”
A faint smile tugged at Eudora's lips. “And I suppose the council sent you to fetch me.”
“Nay. They have more sense.”
That earned him a look.
“Most of them, anyway,” he said, his tone serious.
He had served her grandmother before serving her and had known Eudora since she was a young lass. Few people could read her moods as easily.
That once had comforted her., but these days it made her cautious.
“They grow impatient.”
“Then waiting will do them good.”
A faint smile touched Wilford's face. “Your grandmother used to say the same thing.”
Eudora stopped. For the briefest moment, she heard Eleanor's warning again.
Not even to the person you trust above all others.
“Did she?”
Wilford seemed not to notice the change in her tone.
“Often.”
Eudora walked toward the door. “Then for once, I shall follow her excellent example.”
Wilford stepped aside to let her pass.
Eudora didn't look back at the window. But the question followed her from the room.
Where were they?
The council members were already seated when Eudora entered the chamber.
They rose as one. “Your Majesty.”
Eudora acknowledged them with a slight nod before taking her place at the head of the long table. “Sit.”
Wilford took his usual chair to her right while Commander Bradan remained standing at the opposite end of the table. He was a large man with iron-gray hair and the solid build of a warrior who had spent most of his life carrying a sword. Eudora had known him nearly as long as she'd known Wilford, though Bradan had always been far less inclined to offer an opinion unless asked for one.
The grim set of his face told her she wouldn't need to ask today.
“What happened?” Eudora asked.
Bradan glanced around the table before answering. “Two more villages are refusing to send men for the autumn training.”
Eudora frowned. Every village in Morra Mist was expected to provide able men for regular training so they could be called upon if the kingdom was threatened. Few enjoyed leaving their farms and families to do it, but outright refusal was another matter.
“Which villages?”
“Brennoch and Ardley.”
She knew both. Neither had ever given the crown trouble.
“Did they give a reason—”
Lord—Eudora caught herself before the thought could finish. There were no lords seated around her table, only the men she'd chosen or inherited to advise the crown.
Bradan answered. “They say they see no reason to provide warriors to a queen who may have no right to command them.”
The room went still.
Eudora felt anger stir but gave no outward sign of it. “Who told them I have no right to command them?”
“No one will say,” Bradan said.
Wilford looked to the queen. “Because they don't know.”
Bradan suggested another possibility. “Or because they won't tell us.”
A councilman farther down the table leaned forward. “Then send soldiers into both villages and bring the men responsible here. A few days in the castle cells might loosen their tongues.”