Read Online The Lord Son's Travels by Emma Mickley - Free Book Online Page A

at the road.   "Hitchers.   But where's the city?   How
did I get out to the countryside?"
    "We’ve
just found you here," Brendan explained.   "We don't know how you came to be at the side of the
road.   Which city are you
from?"
    "Bethlehem,"
she answered.   "I was on my
way to my eight o'clock class at Lehigh, when all of a sudden I’m
here."   She stopped, noticing
for the first time the strangeness of their clothing, and the gear-laden horses
grazing behind them.   "Where
are we, Lancaster?   Are you
Mennonites?"
    "We
are in Arden, my lady," Adrien replied.   "A week's journey from the border of Allè-dôn.   I don't know the city of Bethlehem, nor
any place called Lancaster.   Where
in the Eastlands is that?"   The woman stared, the slight bit of color that had returned to her face
draining away again.   They spoke
recognizable words, but with an accent so odd she wasn't sure if she was
interpreting them correctly.
    "If
this is a stupid joke, I will be very unhappy," she declared
somberly.   "Who put you up to
this?"
    "There
are no jokes here, I assure you, my Lady," Brendan replied, his face as
unsure as hers.   Her matter of
speech was hard to understand though she spoke their language.   "We are as confused as you.   Are you from the Eastlands?"
    "I’ve
never heard of the Eastlands," she returned, sinking back down in the
grass.   The men followed her lead,
settling a cautious few feet in front of her.   She gently stroked the fine material of Adrien's cloak, lost
in her thoughts.   Finally she
turned back.  
    "This
might be a dumb question," she said.   "I sure hope it is.   Have you ever heard of President Obama?"   Her heart fluttered as they
glanced at each other in obvious uncertainty.
    "What
is that?" Adrien asked, confirming her fears.   She searched around again wildly, hoping some recognizable
building would suddenly pop out of the heights of the woods.   All remained alien though.   She sighed, praying
that these men were as friendly and well-intentioned as they seemed.
    "So
who are you?" she demanded.   "What are your names?"   The renegades shared another questioning glance.   There were no Bards alive who could
pretend to the confusion and fear this woman was trying her best not to
show.   An honest answer would be
better than an uneasy lie.
    "I
am Lord Brendan ä Wellect." he said.   She nodded, and turned to his companion.
    "Adrien
Lord Son," he said, and waited for her recognition.   In his life as the son of the Lord
King, he had done his best to keep his face from notoriety.   He was the only member of the royal
family who did not have his likeness engraved on a official gold coin of the
realm.   But all of the citizens,
and he assumed all of the residents of the border kingdoms too, knew his name
and title.   His announcement didn't
lead to any startled response from her, though.   She merely continued the introductions.
    "Elenna
Davidson," she said.   She
noted the additional confusion that crossed their faces and wondered why.
    "David's
son?" Brendan muttered, giving her a clue to the source of the puzzlement.
    "Just
call me Elenna," she said, sighing.   She glanced behind her.   Her
hair, which she had hurriedly pulled into a
pony-tail that morning, swished across her back.
    "For
the love of the Lady," Brendan whispered.   "Adrien, her hair!"   The royalborn had seen it too.   He could only gaze in amazement.
    "What?"
demanded Elenna.   "Doesn't
anyone here have red hair?"   A
glance at their expressions answered her question.
    "Are
you royalborn, my lady?" Adrien asked, eyes fixated on the long auburn
curls trailing down her back.
    She shook
her head.   "Only if the
lawyers have taken control.   Dad's
a state prosecutor.   Why?"
    "Only
the royalborn may wear red," Brendan said, finally pulling his eyes from
her locks.   "That is the way
of all the nations of the Eastlands."
    "So
everyone will think I'm royalty?" Elenna responded, dumbfounded.