Read Online Michelle West - The Sun Sword 02 - The Uncrowned King by The Uncrowned King - Free Book Online Page B

how.
    She was glad of them. Glad that they understood what she just didn't want to put in words. Not now, not ever. Loss—it was the worst thing. The thing she hated most. Even speaking about it was somehow letting it in.
    But she discovered that the strength of her loss was selfish, centered around her own fear and her own rage; discovered, to her surprise and her dismay, that she was not the only member of Terafin that somehow felt a gesture
must
be made.
    That she was by no means the most powerful member either.
    It should have comforted her, to see it, to see the act of defi-ance and anger and to know that even The Terafin could be pushed too hard, too far.
    But when she saw the sword, her heart froze. She'd thought there wasn't anything left in her heart
to
freeze; she was Jay, and she was stupid sometimes, and she constantly underestimated her ability to be surprised. Being a seer did that.
    But this sword she'd only seen girded once before, and that time was one time too many. It still came back to her in nightmare: darkness and death, the madness of the mage-born, the god-born and the Allasakari. The deaths of too many of the Chosen.
    Justice shall not sleep.
    She knew Morretz just well enough to know that he disapproved of the sword, but it barely registered; her eyes were caught, everywhere, by the faces of the men and women who lined the walk in preparation for her coming: the Chosen. The men and women handpicked and trusted absolutely by The Terafin. The men and women who had each seen that sword at least once in their tenure: It was the sword upon which their oaths were taken, and to which a ceremonial amount of their blood was given. A sword of war, yes, but much, much more.
    It chilled her.
    "You see?" Avandar said softly, quietly. "A gesture has been made. How does it comfort the dead?"
    Later, she'd remember to keep her face completely rigid in Avandar's company; she usually managed it, but the sonofabitch could see so damned clearly it only took a twitch.
    The phrase "cold comfort" took on a whole new meaning.
I'm not sixteen anymore
, Jewel thought. And she looked across the grounds to see that The Terafin's gaze had stopped a moment to meet hers. Saw herself in those eyes.
    Jewel lifted a ringless hand in salute.
     
    10th of Lattan, 427 AA
    Kalakar, Averalaan Aramarelas
    The Black Ospreys were the lone company that had not been given leave—indeed, given specific orders to the contrary—to expand their number. Duarte had expected no less, and was resigned to the lack before recruitment started. Secretly, it did not displease him; the Ospreys were a handful at the best of times, and an increase in their numbers usually called for a pruning that he found, over time, he had lost stomach for. Dangerous that.
    An Osprey was, after all, a bird of prey—you could fly it, hunt it, give it freedom in which to take its kill, and even force it to feed from your hand, but the relationship was a delicate balance of will and mastery, a subtle acknowledgment that, at the right time, the bird's flight was the bird's flight, and all the more breathtaking for the uncertainty it inspired.
    But the Black Ospreys were more than just captive killers; they had their pride.
    Duarte was no fool. When Fiara burst into the room, her eyes narrow and cool enough to freeze water where it stood in the pitcher on his desk, he knew exactly what was coming, and wondered briefly if holding both halves of the conversation—if such an encounter could be graced with that word—would make his point. He doubted it.
    "Sentrus." A warning, of sorts.
    She snorted. "Duarte," she began.
    "Sentrus."
    It stopped her, but not cold. "
Primus
Duarte."
    "Better."
    "Duarte—"
    He sighed. "What?"
    "Every company in Kalakar is recruiting in the streets of this city. Every company in Kalakar is going to be recruiting in the West—and in the North—after the King's Challenge." Fiara, dark-haired and dark-eyed, was an anomaly; she came from the Northern