Read Online PRINCE OF THE WIND by Charlotte Boyet-Compo - Free Book Online
Authors: Charlotte Boyet-Compo
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least I haven’t."
"Nor have I," Ancelin put in.
"Yet each of us have had hunches that were proven correct," Rebecca commented. "That’s something."
"Aye, it is," Ancelin agreed.
"If Riain does, indeed, possess any degree of special ability, it could well come in the form of warnings to which others are not privy," Flanna declared.
"And his unease might well be that warning?" Duncan queried.
"It could be," Flanna replied.
"A warning we’d best heed, then," Duncan said sourly, and all those gathered at the trestle table nodded.
* * *
In his room, Riain lay on the bed, staring at the intricately carved ceiling. He traced the carving from one wall to the next, counting the tiny leaves and vines entwined around one another. He didn’t know what had made him so edgy of late, but he suspected it was his coming journey to Chrystallus. Long sea journeys were not to his liking and brought back savage memories of his stay aboard Olan Hesar’s ship, the Storm Maiden , and the terrible things he’d had to endure on his way to and from the Labyrinth.
Not to mention the Labyrinth penal colony and the brutality of its Commandant.
Riain shuddered and flung an arm over his eyes to block out the sight of the miles of red bluffs ringing the compound and the heat rising up from the baked sand. He could almost feel that heat searing the soles of his feet and smell the stench of hot, unwashed bodies toiling in the fierce sun. His stomach growled as he remembered the pitiful amounts of food he was allowed and the brackish water that had made him so ill the first week he was there. The Labyrinth was the closest thing to hell man could create and the island that housed it had to have been fashioned by the denizens of the Abyss.
Was the memory of that fiendish place what was causing the nervousness? he wondered. Chrystallus wasn’t that far away from the sea lanes leading to the mysterious island prison hidden deep inside the six-hundred-mile radius of Tyber’s Isle. Was there any chance the Banshee and her escort of nine fighting ships could be blown off course and shipwrecked on that savage shore?
"Stop it, Cree!" he snapped. Whatever was bothering him wasn’t going to be eased with thoughts of that nightmarish year’s incarceration.
Drawing in a long, calming breath, he forced himself to think of Miyoshi and the painting of her. It had been unveiled a few days before his parents had left for Corbin Montyne’s keep of Ravenswood at Derbenille in Ionary.
If the Emperor’s daughter was as beautiful as her portrait, Riain could only hope she was not vainglorious with that beauty and as arrogant with it as some of the Ladies-in-Waiting at his mother’s court. Usually devastating good looks signaled both an empty head and an inflated ego, and women so blessed with great beauty were not loathe to use that precious commodity to get exactly what they wanted from their mates. They could make life miserable for a man enthralled with that beauty and jealous of any other who might covet it. He’d known men to fight duels to the death over a woman who had pitted one against the other in her bid to advance her position within the keep. He seriously doubted he could live with a woman like that.
But, as Flanna had reminded him, Chrystallusian women were brought up to believe the word of their men was law.
No matter how bad the marriage might be, a woman of the Lotus Lands endured it with as much grace as was humanly possible. As a general rule, they were submissive, never talked back to their mates, and were loyal to a fault, even if their husband did not deserve such loyalty.
He hoped Miyoshi was no different. The Emperor’s man had said the third daughter was "highly intelligent, well-read, calm of temper, and merry of spirit."
The little Chrystallusian man had smiled. "She is the joy of her father. She is the one who makes all laugh. She, who can sing like the birds in the trees and play haunting music upon the harp."
"Is she
"Nor have I," Ancelin put in.
"Yet each of us have had hunches that were proven correct," Rebecca commented. "That’s something."
"Aye, it is," Ancelin agreed.
"If Riain does, indeed, possess any degree of special ability, it could well come in the form of warnings to which others are not privy," Flanna declared.
"And his unease might well be that warning?" Duncan queried.
"It could be," Flanna replied.
"A warning we’d best heed, then," Duncan said sourly, and all those gathered at the trestle table nodded.
* * *
In his room, Riain lay on the bed, staring at the intricately carved ceiling. He traced the carving from one wall to the next, counting the tiny leaves and vines entwined around one another. He didn’t know what had made him so edgy of late, but he suspected it was his coming journey to Chrystallus. Long sea journeys were not to his liking and brought back savage memories of his stay aboard Olan Hesar’s ship, the Storm Maiden , and the terrible things he’d had to endure on his way to and from the Labyrinth.
Not to mention the Labyrinth penal colony and the brutality of its Commandant.
Riain shuddered and flung an arm over his eyes to block out the sight of the miles of red bluffs ringing the compound and the heat rising up from the baked sand. He could almost feel that heat searing the soles of his feet and smell the stench of hot, unwashed bodies toiling in the fierce sun. His stomach growled as he remembered the pitiful amounts of food he was allowed and the brackish water that had made him so ill the first week he was there. The Labyrinth was the closest thing to hell man could create and the island that housed it had to have been fashioned by the denizens of the Abyss.
Was the memory of that fiendish place what was causing the nervousness? he wondered. Chrystallus wasn’t that far away from the sea lanes leading to the mysterious island prison hidden deep inside the six-hundred-mile radius of Tyber’s Isle. Was there any chance the Banshee and her escort of nine fighting ships could be blown off course and shipwrecked on that savage shore?
"Stop it, Cree!" he snapped. Whatever was bothering him wasn’t going to be eased with thoughts of that nightmarish year’s incarceration.
Drawing in a long, calming breath, he forced himself to think of Miyoshi and the painting of her. It had been unveiled a few days before his parents had left for Corbin Montyne’s keep of Ravenswood at Derbenille in Ionary.
If the Emperor’s daughter was as beautiful as her portrait, Riain could only hope she was not vainglorious with that beauty and as arrogant with it as some of the Ladies-in-Waiting at his mother’s court. Usually devastating good looks signaled both an empty head and an inflated ego, and women so blessed with great beauty were not loathe to use that precious commodity to get exactly what they wanted from their mates. They could make life miserable for a man enthralled with that beauty and jealous of any other who might covet it. He’d known men to fight duels to the death over a woman who had pitted one against the other in her bid to advance her position within the keep. He seriously doubted he could live with a woman like that.
But, as Flanna had reminded him, Chrystallusian women were brought up to believe the word of their men was law.
No matter how bad the marriage might be, a woman of the Lotus Lands endured it with as much grace as was humanly possible. As a general rule, they were submissive, never talked back to their mates, and were loyal to a fault, even if their husband did not deserve such loyalty.
He hoped Miyoshi was no different. The Emperor’s man had said the third daughter was "highly intelligent, well-read, calm of temper, and merry of spirit."
The little Chrystallusian man had smiled. "She is the joy of her father. She is the one who makes all laugh. She, who can sing like the birds in the trees and play haunting music upon the harp."
"Is she
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