Read Online Citadel of the Sky (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 1) by Chrysoula Tzavelas - Free Book Online

elsewhere. Looking at the liquid movement of the substance of Clary’s form was making her stomach turn again. Tiana had her eyes closed, and Kiar was more than willing to believe the younger princess had slipped into the phantasmagory. But Jerya just sat there, her smile fading into a patient, reserved expression. Iriss was equally still, her pale shadow, although her gaze was focused on the afflicted man.
    Finally, the man Wallis risked a glance up. “The taxes, Your Highness. Half our village has been afflicted by the plague, and we’re having difficulty with the crops.” Clary’s eyes darted around the room, and he pushed himself to his feet. Wallis pulled him down again.
    Jerya said, “The plague… tell me about the plague, if you please.” Her brow furrowed.
    The man said, “Oh, Your Highness, it’s a terrible thing. My brother Clary survived it, and as you see, he’s only fit for the simplest tasks now, even with supervision. You see? You see how his mouth moves? Once he spoke and he described the nightmares the fever brought him, but his voice died and all his stupid jokes with it.”
    He swallowed and continued. “Half the village has been touched by the screams, and it kills at least half those it touches. My daughter and wife are gone as well.” Sorrow and rage threaded through his voice.
    “I see. My sympathies for your loss,” said Jerya. She paused and he lowered his gaze again. “But you say you came about your taxes? Surely, even if you reside within this county, you wouldn’t need to come all the way to the Justiciar’s Court to renegotiate your tax obligation. Has the count’s magistrate failed you in some way?”
    “The magistrate died, Your Highness, and the replacement selected by the count has chosen not to inspect the territories, in light of the troubles we’ve been having.”
    Jerya said, “Ah, the troubles.” She paused, then said, “Tell me about the troubles?” There was an expression Kiar didn’t recognize on the elder princess’s face: a strange sort of intensity.
    The man looked up again, doubt and confusion on his face. “Which ones, Your Highness?”
    It was Jerya’s turn to be silent, gazing at the man. He ducked his head and pulled his brother closer. Finally, she said, “Let’s start with the one that caused the death of your magistrate.”
    “A fiend,” he said promptly. “There are a terrible number of fiends about these days, spoiling crops and stealing children and preying on the lonely.”
    “And?”
    “My granddaddy always said that fiends bring out the bandits. But everyone’s pretty sure a fiend took this one, on account of the tax money being left behind, and all the blood.”
    “And the other troubles?” Jerya laced her fingers together.
    “The weather. It’s been so… wrong.” The sour rage under his terror leaked through his voice. His brother tried to stand again and was jerked down. “It’s hurt the harvest the last three years running.”
    Jerya said, “Your count is not sympathetic? There has been peace for almost a decade.”
    “We’re farmers, Your Highness. The failure of the harvest is our own fault, or so our lords claim.”
    Jerya frowned for the first time. “I see. And does your count protect you from the bandits?”
    The man looked down and chose his words with care. “I’m sure he tries very hard, Your Highness.” Then he turned to look silently at the King, who was tapping his fingers together in sequence and watching in bemusement.
    Jerya said, “Very well, Wallis Jacoby. I will investigate the situation. I would like you and your brother to be our guests for the next few days, in case I need any clarification.” He slumped, looking beaten.
    He’s expecting a prison, realized Kiar.
    But Jerya went on, “Berrin. Escort these men to the Palace housekeeper and see that she finds them appropriate quarters. Comfortable ones, please.”
    The man blinked and then rose to his feet, bowing and pulling his brother