Read Online Master Of The Planes (Book 3) by T.O. Munro - Free Book Online Page B

curiosity.
    “Dead,” Hepdida repeated as she took another step back, adding, by way of emphasis, “in an instant.”
    “An instant,” Maia echoed and at last she dropped her hand.  Her face broke into a smile, “such power, in such young hands. My my Hepdida, I thought I had already lived when I was your age, but your experiences quite outreach mine, in depth if not variety.”
    “Yes.”
    “So how come so slight a girl is walking the palace with such a lethal weapon?”
    “Kimbolt sent me to get it.”
    “Ah, the good captain newly raised to the high rank of seneschal.” Maia nodded thoughtfully.  “It was a controversial appointment, so Tybert tells me.  And now the soldier is giving orders to the crown princess.”
    Hepdida shrugged.  “We left it in the council chamber when we took the queen back to her room.  Kimbolt said we shouldn’t have left it.  I don’t know why he worried though.  It’s not as if anyone could the steal the thing.”
    Maia’s perfectly defined eyebrows rose in elegant twin arches. “Kimbolt and you took the queen to her chamber and then Kimbolt sent you away on an errand?”  She gave an amused smile and patted Hepdida’s shoulder sympathetically.  “Perhaps you shouldn’t hurry back too quickly, child.  Grown ups sometimes need a little time, a little time alone.”
    Hepdida’s felt her cheeks burn red with a cocktail of rage and embarrassment.  “It’s not like that,” she insisted.  “It’s Kimbolt and Niarmit. It’s state business. Besides, Giseanne was there, Tordil and Elise too!”
    Maia frowned.  “Those scars show up more when you blush, child.”  She traced a finger along the line of one Grundurg’s cuts.  “I have a powder that would mask both them and the flaring of passion in your face.  You do not want to let some young fellow read your mood so easily.”  Her hand rose to lift the long lock of white hair in the centre of Hepdida’s forehead.  “I see the colour I gave you has faded during your last sickness. We can give it another tint.  Perhaps we should go red this time, in honour of your triumphant cousin?”
      Hepdida pursed her lips and clutched the Helm closer to her chest.  There was a side of Maia that she liked, a lightness of mood and interests which had afforded her some relief from the great matters of state which pre-occupied her cousin.  But there were times such as this, when the courtesan made her feel not just uncomfortable, but tainted in a way no-one had managed since Grundurg died.  “I have to go, Maia,” she said flatly.
    “Of course, my dear.  But when you have decided what colour you favour seek me out.  I have enjoyed our little tete-a-tetes.  We girls must stick together and I am so bereft of company now that your Mistress has sent Lord Leniot and Sir Vahnce away.”  Maia exhaled such a deep sigh of sorrow that Hepdida felt obliged to counter her despondency.
    “They are only going to Oostport to stir their prince into further and faster action,” she said.
    Maia clutched a theatrical hand to her chest.  “Oh Oosport, how I miss it.  The friends, the parties. Who would have thought that a palace as beautiful as this could be so frightfully dull?”
    “I am sure you can find and make your own entertainment, Lady Maia,” Hepdida assured her.  “Now please excuse me, Kimbolt will be waiting for me.  Kimbolt and the queen.”

***   
    Niarmit could hear voices, familiar voices.  She tried to open her eyes but found no part of her body would answer her commands.  She struggled without moving, held in the paralysis of the just woken.
    “Your Majesty,” Kimbolt’s voice shrouded in anxiety.  “Niarmit.” Her name breathed with soft insistence. “Open your eyes.”
    Her eyelids flickered against the lead weights which held them shut.  She uncurled her fingers and sighed in relief at the return of her senses.  On each previous occasion when she had left the Domain of the Helm it