Read Online Centyr Dominance by Michael G. Manning - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael G. Manning
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beautiful.
I have to focus, she
told herself, pulling her attention inward. The carriage had come to a stop,
and Gerold was exiting, holding a hand toward her to help her down. She didn’t
need his assistance, but she thought the gesture kind. Behind his actions lay
a generous spirit, she could see that easily enough, despite his polished
demeanor. He suffered from some of the same flaws that most men did, but she
could see his mind working hard to discipline his thoughts. From what she had
seen of unshielded humans thus far, it was a rare trait.
By contrast, the guards who watched them pass through
the main entrance to the palace exhibited far less inner self-control. Their
faces were cool and their exteriors calm, but their thoughts were lewd. One
glanced away, ignoring a mild interest in the shape of her body beneath the
dress, while the other seemed to be actively creating a highly descriptive
narrative that probably featured her in demeaning poses and little to no
clothing.
She suppressed a shudder as they passed. Why can’t
more of them be like Gerold? she wondered. She was beginning to appreciate
the benefits of growing up in a place where everyone’s mind was shielded.
“Is everything alright? You haven’t spoken in a
while.”
Gerold’s voice jolted her from her reverie. Nodding,
she answered, “Yes, sorry. I was just trying to figure out how to explain my
problem to King Darogen.”
“Don’t worry,” said the Baron, smiling, “he’s a decent
man, as men go, and an excellent king, as kings go.”
“Where are we going first?” she asked.
“A short audience with the King,” he responded. “I
sent a letter in advance this morning. After that, I suspect he will request
you join him in the main hall for the noon meal.”
They made their way to a small waiting room and sat on
comfortable chairs while they waited for the chamberlain to call them in for
their turn before the king. Several ladies entered shortly afterward, and
their eyes kept moving to watch her. Their minds were fairly glowing with envy
and petty thoughts. Moira began to wonder what bothered her more, lewd men or
jealous women. Will I have to get old and ugly before it gets better?
“Don’t mind them,” said the Baron, as if he too could
sense their hostility. “They’re just sizing up the competition.”
A minute later, the large double doors opened and the
chamberlain, a tidy fellow named Bernard, ushered them into the audience
chamber.
The room itself was similar in layout to the audience
chamber that Queen Ariadne used in Lothion, but the style and ornamentation
were different. Deep red and maroon tapestries dominated the walls and the
furniture was all built of a dark-hued cherry wood. Most of the fittings and
hardware in the room were gold, which made a brilliant counterpoint to the reds
and dark wood.
Rows of cushioned benches separated by a long aisle
were occupied with a smattering of people, nobles apparently. Men at arms
lined the walls and three men stood to one side of what must be King Darogen
himself. A tall man with light brown hair and a simple gold circlet sat upon a
carved wooden throne.
Moira had sensed the people within long before they
had entered, but she hadn’t given them more than a cursory appraisal with her
magesight before the doors had opened.
Now that she looked more closely, she was shocked. A
sudden gasp escaped her.
Gerold’s hand was on her shoulder as he urged her
forward, “Try to keep your composure.”
She turned her head toward the Baron, eyes wide.
“He’s dead,” she whispered.
The Baron didn’t know quite what to make of her
remark, leading her on, he responded to her quietly, “Don’t be ridiculous.
What are you talking about?”
“Your king,” she mumbled, pulling up short. She
resisted his efforts to lead her any farther. The man staring at her from the
throne was a
I have to focus, she
told herself, pulling her attention inward. The carriage had come to a stop,
and Gerold was exiting, holding a hand toward her to help her down. She didn’t
need his assistance, but she thought the gesture kind. Behind his actions lay
a generous spirit, she could see that easily enough, despite his polished
demeanor. He suffered from some of the same flaws that most men did, but she
could see his mind working hard to discipline his thoughts. From what she had
seen of unshielded humans thus far, it was a rare trait.
By contrast, the guards who watched them pass through
the main entrance to the palace exhibited far less inner self-control. Their
faces were cool and their exteriors calm, but their thoughts were lewd. One
glanced away, ignoring a mild interest in the shape of her body beneath the
dress, while the other seemed to be actively creating a highly descriptive
narrative that probably featured her in demeaning poses and little to no
clothing.
She suppressed a shudder as they passed. Why can’t
more of them be like Gerold? she wondered. She was beginning to appreciate
the benefits of growing up in a place where everyone’s mind was shielded.
“Is everything alright? You haven’t spoken in a
while.”
Gerold’s voice jolted her from her reverie. Nodding,
she answered, “Yes, sorry. I was just trying to figure out how to explain my
problem to King Darogen.”
“Don’t worry,” said the Baron, smiling, “he’s a decent
man, as men go, and an excellent king, as kings go.”
“Where are we going first?” she asked.
“A short audience with the King,” he responded. “I
sent a letter in advance this morning. After that, I suspect he will request
you join him in the main hall for the noon meal.”
They made their way to a small waiting room and sat on
comfortable chairs while they waited for the chamberlain to call them in for
their turn before the king. Several ladies entered shortly afterward, and
their eyes kept moving to watch her. Their minds were fairly glowing with envy
and petty thoughts. Moira began to wonder what bothered her more, lewd men or
jealous women. Will I have to get old and ugly before it gets better?
“Don’t mind them,” said the Baron, as if he too could
sense their hostility. “They’re just sizing up the competition.”
A minute later, the large double doors opened and the
chamberlain, a tidy fellow named Bernard, ushered them into the audience
chamber.
The room itself was similar in layout to the audience
chamber that Queen Ariadne used in Lothion, but the style and ornamentation
were different. Deep red and maroon tapestries dominated the walls and the
furniture was all built of a dark-hued cherry wood. Most of the fittings and
hardware in the room were gold, which made a brilliant counterpoint to the reds
and dark wood.
Rows of cushioned benches separated by a long aisle
were occupied with a smattering of people, nobles apparently. Men at arms
lined the walls and three men stood to one side of what must be King Darogen
himself. A tall man with light brown hair and a simple gold circlet sat upon a
carved wooden throne.
Moira had sensed the people within long before they
had entered, but she hadn’t given them more than a cursory appraisal with her
magesight before the doors had opened.
Now that she looked more closely, she was shocked. A
sudden gasp escaped her.
Gerold’s hand was on her shoulder as he urged her
forward, “Try to keep your composure.”
She turned her head toward the Baron, eyes wide.
“He’s dead,” she whispered.
The Baron didn’t know quite what to make of her
remark, leading her on, he responded to her quietly, “Don’t be ridiculous.
What are you talking about?”
“Your king,” she mumbled, pulling up short. She
resisted his efforts to lead her any farther. The man staring at her from the
throne was a
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