Read Online The Assassin Princess (Lamb & Castle Book 2) by J.M. Sanford - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J.M. Sanford
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the statue's feet and wept, her heart broken.
The statue stands there still, young forever, quite indifferent to love's suffering.
Amelia fell silent. She’d begun the story without a thought as to how it ended, and it had not only failed to lift Harold's spirits, but it had sunk hers. It was a maudlin kind of story, like so many she knew – a mean and spiteful narrative trick played on two people led by their hearts. She was only glad Meg hadn't been around to hear it. Surely there existed stories other than ones about 'horribly doomed love affairs', as Meg had put it, but Amelia couldn't think of any offhand.
“I reckon they should've both stuck to their own kind,” said Harold, picking at the grass. “That way nothing bad would've happened.”
Amelia would've liked to say she didn't know what had brought that horrible story to mind in the first place, but she had an inkling. Meg had journeyed to Springhaven for the sake of her granddaughters – she hadn't expected to find Amelia still practically a child herself. A girl left behind like the statue in the story, waiting for such a time as she was wanted again. There and then, Amelia vowed to herself that she'd never again wait for anyone else's permission to live her life. She was the White Queen and she had her Mage, her Paladin, her Commander and her Warship. She would find her White King, and if she liked him enough, she’d marry him. It would be a simple decision, and hers alone.
6: PLAGUE BRINGERS
If the would-be White Queen thought her plan was a simple one, then it was only because she’d temporarily forgotten about the rival Black Queen. Bessie stood at the bow of Sharvesh , face to the bitter wind, eyes alight with triumph. The attack at the Academy, now that she'd survived it, had only served to speed her on her way with Greyfell at her side once more. The first step of her own plan was to find the White Queen – simple enough, as the White Queen would have no choice but to find the hidden throne room, and in a skyship as fast as Sharvesh , Bessie could reach it ahead of her. The second step would be for Bessie to seize the crown – even simpler, as the White Queen was a drip and no match for an Antwin girl. Then Bessie would find her Black King, marry him, and… well, if she didn't like him then she could always hire another former Antwin girl to get rid of him. Oh, and somewhere along the way she’d have to find a Mage, but now that they were on the move again, Bessie knew she’d overcome that obstacle like any other.
She turned and watched Bryn at the ship's wheel. They'd journeyed three days northeast without delay, with the winds growing fierce and the rain like icy needles when it fell. Bryn's short fur was adapted for a warmer climate, so under normal circumstances he would have taken his business south for the worst of the winter, but he'd obviously used his time at Iletia wisely, stocking up on warming spices for their rations, and had wrapped himself up in a thick quilted coat. His mobile ears poked out of the hood of the coat, and he even had a sleeve for his tail, with a fluffy pompom on the end. Yes, the Argean guarded carefully against the cold weather. Bessie and Greyfell, on the other hand, carried little of what they needed for the journey and found themselves at the mercy of whatever Bryn had in the way of supplies. As they travelled north, the wind turning increasingly bitter, Bessie had found it a good time to practice a spell to ward off chills. The spell had a practical use for the Antwin Academy's graduates in that it kept the breath from clouding on even the coldest of nights, and could fool those beings that hunted by sensing their prey's body heat. Such a spell could be vital in evading the exotic creatures set to guard certain palaces. Greyfell, who had little to no magical ability of his own, had surrendered to the indignity of borrowing a spare quilted coat from Bryn. Although it had been made for an Argean
The statue stands there still, young forever, quite indifferent to love's suffering.
Amelia fell silent. She’d begun the story without a thought as to how it ended, and it had not only failed to lift Harold's spirits, but it had sunk hers. It was a maudlin kind of story, like so many she knew – a mean and spiteful narrative trick played on two people led by their hearts. She was only glad Meg hadn't been around to hear it. Surely there existed stories other than ones about 'horribly doomed love affairs', as Meg had put it, but Amelia couldn't think of any offhand.
“I reckon they should've both stuck to their own kind,” said Harold, picking at the grass. “That way nothing bad would've happened.”
Amelia would've liked to say she didn't know what had brought that horrible story to mind in the first place, but she had an inkling. Meg had journeyed to Springhaven for the sake of her granddaughters – she hadn't expected to find Amelia still practically a child herself. A girl left behind like the statue in the story, waiting for such a time as she was wanted again. There and then, Amelia vowed to herself that she'd never again wait for anyone else's permission to live her life. She was the White Queen and she had her Mage, her Paladin, her Commander and her Warship. She would find her White King, and if she liked him enough, she’d marry him. It would be a simple decision, and hers alone.
6: PLAGUE BRINGERS
If the would-be White Queen thought her plan was a simple one, then it was only because she’d temporarily forgotten about the rival Black Queen. Bessie stood at the bow of Sharvesh , face to the bitter wind, eyes alight with triumph. The attack at the Academy, now that she'd survived it, had only served to speed her on her way with Greyfell at her side once more. The first step of her own plan was to find the White Queen – simple enough, as the White Queen would have no choice but to find the hidden throne room, and in a skyship as fast as Sharvesh , Bessie could reach it ahead of her. The second step would be for Bessie to seize the crown – even simpler, as the White Queen was a drip and no match for an Antwin girl. Then Bessie would find her Black King, marry him, and… well, if she didn't like him then she could always hire another former Antwin girl to get rid of him. Oh, and somewhere along the way she’d have to find a Mage, but now that they were on the move again, Bessie knew she’d overcome that obstacle like any other.
She turned and watched Bryn at the ship's wheel. They'd journeyed three days northeast without delay, with the winds growing fierce and the rain like icy needles when it fell. Bryn's short fur was adapted for a warmer climate, so under normal circumstances he would have taken his business south for the worst of the winter, but he'd obviously used his time at Iletia wisely, stocking up on warming spices for their rations, and had wrapped himself up in a thick quilted coat. His mobile ears poked out of the hood of the coat, and he even had a sleeve for his tail, with a fluffy pompom on the end. Yes, the Argean guarded carefully against the cold weather. Bessie and Greyfell, on the other hand, carried little of what they needed for the journey and found themselves at the mercy of whatever Bryn had in the way of supplies. As they travelled north, the wind turning increasingly bitter, Bessie had found it a good time to practice a spell to ward off chills. The spell had a practical use for the Antwin Academy's graduates in that it kept the breath from clouding on even the coldest of nights, and could fool those beings that hunted by sensing their prey's body heat. Such a spell could be vital in evading the exotic creatures set to guard certain palaces. Greyfell, who had little to no magical ability of his own, had surrendered to the indignity of borrowing a spare quilted coat from Bryn. Although it had been made for an Argean
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