Read Online Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) by Megan Dent Nagle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Megan Dent Nagle
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myself!”
Milo was a foreign scholar who’d been hired by Queen Evangeline to come to Samaria and school Zora. Since the young woman was forbidden to leave her own home country per the Queen’s orders, Milo was one of the only windows she had to the outside world. He knew more history, fact, and folklore about the lands beyond the Anion Mountains than any other person Zora knew, and for that reason she rarely left his side. Since the time he appeared in the Samarian capitol of Alumhy and into Zora’s tiny world, the two had been inseparable.
Milo leaned back into the sofa and watched with loving amusement as Zora examined the contents of the tome with wonder. After a couple of minutes flipping through the pages, she glanced up at him, excitement swimming in her bright blue eyes.
“I have to get down there,” she declared. “This is so exciting that it cannot wait! Will you come?” Milo gave the persistent young woman a knowing look then tapped the wooden cane against his lame leg.
“Don’t think that’s too wise of an idea, my dear, but enjoy it just the same without me. Be sure to document everything you find.” Zora nodded eagerly and clutched the tome close to her chest as if it was the most precious thing she owned. Milo patted her knee affectionately.
“I only wish I could be of more help to you, but ancient translations is something I’m unfamiliar with. How about we meet later in the greenhouse, and you can show me everything you’ve found? We will count that as our lesson for the day.”
Zora smiled at her friend. “Milo, you’re the best,” she laughed. With that, the young woman stood up urgently and began packing a bag with her journal, quill and ink, and a couple of other, smaller books on the subject of botany before whisking out of the library.
***
Head down and nose in book, Zora sped through Mizra’s expansive corridors passing servants by like a whirlwind. The polished stone floor eventually became gravel underneath her feet as the corridor walls narrowed and the ceiling lowered; evidence that she was entering the back of the fortress. Flaming torches set into the wall every couple of yards replaced the natural light let in by the large windows of Mizra’s front corridors. Eventually, the corridor frame became rough, jagged mountain rock, and the pathways steeply declined until it turned into a set of declivitous stairs that lead to the infamous Samarian mines.
The castle from which Queen Evangeline Winnser now ruled had once been a great military fortress. It had been carved into the blue mountain stone of the Anions by the original mountain dwellers, the ancient ancestors of the Samarians. It was called Mizra , the savage tongue for sapphire. They had built a monstrous half moon moat around Mizra by breaking away the base of the mountain and letting the natural springs below them gush out to fill the open space. In return, the springs from which the moat was replenished also served as Mizra’s personal reservoir, as well as a defense mechanism against invaders.
As she turned the last sharp corner of a corridor, Zora almost ran head first into Arvil Pennington, one of the Queen’s advisors. The small man gave a high-pitched shriek of surprise at the sight of Zora lurking in the dark and deserted part of the fortress.
“Blast! Lady Zora!” he cried, placing his hand on his chest as if he was having a heart attack. “What are you doing in these parts of Mizra? And where is your chaperon?”
Arvil looked down at her reproachfully from the end of a long nose stuck between hollow cheeks. Zora shifted the heavy tome from one arm to the other catching Arvil’s attention.
“Nothing,” Zora replied shortly. “I’m doing nothing. Just lesson work for
Milo was a foreign scholar who’d been hired by Queen Evangeline to come to Samaria and school Zora. Since the young woman was forbidden to leave her own home country per the Queen’s orders, Milo was one of the only windows she had to the outside world. He knew more history, fact, and folklore about the lands beyond the Anion Mountains than any other person Zora knew, and for that reason she rarely left his side. Since the time he appeared in the Samarian capitol of Alumhy and into Zora’s tiny world, the two had been inseparable.
Milo leaned back into the sofa and watched with loving amusement as Zora examined the contents of the tome with wonder. After a couple of minutes flipping through the pages, she glanced up at him, excitement swimming in her bright blue eyes.
“I have to get down there,” she declared. “This is so exciting that it cannot wait! Will you come?” Milo gave the persistent young woman a knowing look then tapped the wooden cane against his lame leg.
“Don’t think that’s too wise of an idea, my dear, but enjoy it just the same without me. Be sure to document everything you find.” Zora nodded eagerly and clutched the tome close to her chest as if it was the most precious thing she owned. Milo patted her knee affectionately.
“I only wish I could be of more help to you, but ancient translations is something I’m unfamiliar with. How about we meet later in the greenhouse, and you can show me everything you’ve found? We will count that as our lesson for the day.”
Zora smiled at her friend. “Milo, you’re the best,” she laughed. With that, the young woman stood up urgently and began packing a bag with her journal, quill and ink, and a couple of other, smaller books on the subject of botany before whisking out of the library.
***
Head down and nose in book, Zora sped through Mizra’s expansive corridors passing servants by like a whirlwind. The polished stone floor eventually became gravel underneath her feet as the corridor walls narrowed and the ceiling lowered; evidence that she was entering the back of the fortress. Flaming torches set into the wall every couple of yards replaced the natural light let in by the large windows of Mizra’s front corridors. Eventually, the corridor frame became rough, jagged mountain rock, and the pathways steeply declined until it turned into a set of declivitous stairs that lead to the infamous Samarian mines.
The castle from which Queen Evangeline Winnser now ruled had once been a great military fortress. It had been carved into the blue mountain stone of the Anions by the original mountain dwellers, the ancient ancestors of the Samarians. It was called Mizra , the savage tongue for sapphire. They had built a monstrous half moon moat around Mizra by breaking away the base of the mountain and letting the natural springs below them gush out to fill the open space. In return, the springs from which the moat was replenished also served as Mizra’s personal reservoir, as well as a defense mechanism against invaders.
As she turned the last sharp corner of a corridor, Zora almost ran head first into Arvil Pennington, one of the Queen’s advisors. The small man gave a high-pitched shriek of surprise at the sight of Zora lurking in the dark and deserted part of the fortress.
“Blast! Lady Zora!” he cried, placing his hand on his chest as if he was having a heart attack. “What are you doing in these parts of Mizra? And where is your chaperon?”
Arvil looked down at her reproachfully from the end of a long nose stuck between hollow cheeks. Zora shifted the heavy tome from one arm to the other catching Arvil’s attention.
“Nothing,” Zora replied shortly. “I’m doing nothing. Just lesson work for
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