Read Online Game of Souls by Terry C. Simpson - Free Book Online Page A

green eyes.
    “It took you long enough to knock on my door. I could smell you from here.” Nose upturned, the count gingerly raised a yellowed piece of vellum to the light and inspected its contents, straining his eyes.
    “I was somewhat lost in thought.” If he’d remembered his father’s ability to sense anyone nearby, Winslow would have presented himself sooner.
    “So you survived the Smear,” the Count said, tone one of disinterest. “I guess this means I’ll have to appoint you to a Blade.”
    “If you think I’m worthy.”
    “That doesn’t matter now, does it?”
    Winslow said nothing. He preferred not to appear enthusiastic lest the count change his mind for the joy of seeing him beg.
    “Well, did you find anyone or anything of interest to report?”
    “No. Several from the Snake’s guild set a trap, but some shopkeeper aided us. He let us through his store.”
    Shadows flitted across the count’s face as he frowned. “Why would he do that?”
    “He didn’t relish the idea of another riot or for the Blades to raid his home.”
    “Smart man. I’m disappointed though. I made sure the guilds knew you and Gaston were both counts’ sons. I would have expected them to use that information.”
    Winslow felt his eyebrows climb his forehead. He brushed away a nattering mosquito.
    “Oh, do not look at me like that. You were both quite safe. Do you think I would risk something happening to my only heir? I had men stationed within the Smear. Still, you weren’t supposed to enter. To be honest, you weren’t to take the Trial at all.” For the first time the count met his gaze, eyes unyielding. “Your mother’s fate could have been yours.”
    It took all of Winslow’s will not to fidget or show any reaction under that heated glare. “Why didn’t you have them help us then?”
    “Did I send you into the Smear? No? Besides any help from me would have defeated the point of you going there. My people lost you in one of those wretched lanes anyway.”
    “And you weren’t worried?”
    “I didn’t say that, but showing my concern around the other counts would have been considered a weakness.”
    Winslow smirked. A little bolder for Ainslen’s admission, he said, “And you cannot afford that, can you?” All that ever seemed to matter to his father was their precious reputation in the eyes of the court.
    “Most certainly not,” the count replied with a shake of his head. “They did mention a young boy trailing you two using the rooftops, but I counted on you being able to handle one child. I’d hate to think all the years having you both tutored in swordmanship and touching your soul went to waste. Unless a person you encountered had developed an actual melding ability, they would not be able to beat either of you, much less both at once.”
    It was an offhanded and indirect compliment, but Winslow had become used to his father’s unwillingness to give him praise. Too much pampering made a man soft. Glorify him and he stops trying. Winslow didn’t allow himself to relax or feed into his father’s words, keeping his face blank.
    “The boy you mention helped us get into the store through which we escaped,” Winslow said. The admission almost made him cringe.
    “Some would construe that as a violation of the test.”
    “We didn’t ask for his aid,” Winslow protested. “Nor did he physically assist us in a fight.”
    “Well, that’s something, I guess.” Ainslen shrugged. “Still, I wouldn’t reveal it to anyone if I were you. Act as if it never happened.”
    “And if it comes out?”
    “Deny it. We cannot afford such a blemish. Us Cardiffs have the oldest tenure among the Hills. We are as constant as Mandrigal himself, rising to rule each day, despite falling at dusk.” Count Cardiff drew the God of Rebirth’s triangular prayer sign on his forehead. “Remember that every time you feel his warmth. Nothing and no one must stand in the way of us reaching even higher. Mistakes such as