Read Online The Queen's Blade by T. Southwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: T. Southwell
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smooth as a girl's. You were better suited to your previous costume."
Blade frowned, but reined his temper with an effort. "You obviously have not noticed that you have created a situation from which you now have no way out, a particularly foolish move, I would say."
The Prince considered the situation. So long as he held the assassin's wrists, Blade was helpless, but, as he had pointed out, Kerrion could do nothing further without releasing him. For a brief period of stalemate they glared at each other, then Kerrion did the only thing he could, and released one of Blade's wrists to smash his fist into the assassin's chin, knocking his head sideways. Blade's vision darkened, and he went limp, his eyes closed. The Prince smiled and released his other wrist to sit back.
In a flash, the assassin jerked his arms up, the edges of his stiff hands striking the Prince on either side of his neck. Kerrion’s eyes rolled up as he keeled over, unconscious. Blade pushed him away and sat up, brushing leaves from his hair. Swiftly he fastened the chains around Kerrion's wrists, making any further attempts at escape impossible. Allowing himself the satisfaction of kicking the Prince in the gut, Blade set about lighting a fire and setting up camp.
By the time Kerrion woke, Blade had watered the horses and unsaddled them, heated water for tea and set a pot of stew on the fire to cook. The Prince groaned and clutched his gut, then tried to rub his neck. Finding his hands bound, he sat up and scowled at his captor.
Blade eyed him from across the fire. "Try anything like that again, and you will have more than a sore gut and neck to worry about. The Queen wants you alive, but she did not specify in what condition."
Kerrion coughed and bent awkwardly to rub his throat. "Could I have some water?"
"Certainly." Blade tossed him a water skin.
"You fight unfairly."
"Life is unfair, and that is the school that taught me. I do what is necessary to survive."
"What does your queen want with me?"
"She does not confide in me. I am not her advisor."
Kerrion looked bitter. "I expect she wants to execute me publicly, thereby raising the morale of her soldiers and people, strengthening them in the war. The death of my father will also aid her cause, for it puts my younger brother, who is inexperienced in the art of war, on the throne."
"If she executes you, it will not be for that reason. The Queen wishes to end the war."
Kerrion snorted. "She will never win it."
"She does not want to win. Only to find peace."
"By killing my father and kidnapping me? That will make my people hate her even more."
Blade shrugged, disinterested. "I do not know her plans, but she is no fool."
"She is a woman."
The assassin's eyes narrowed. "She is the Queen of the Jashimari, and if you show her any disrespect, I shall make you suffer for it."
"I will never crawl on my belly and lick her feet like you do, half man."
"I will see to it that you do."
They scowled at each other, then Blade returned to stirring the stew.
Kerrion's eyes drifted to the pot, and he swallowed, clearly hungry after a day without food. Blade dished up two bowls and handed one to the Prince, leaving him to eat awkwardly with his chained hands. After the meal, the assassin relaxed against an ironbark tree and sipped his tea, studying his captive. Kerrion did not resemble his father at all, other than his bronze skin and pale blond hair. Shandor's eyes had been a murky brown, his skin coarse and brows thick and wiry. Kerrion's fine dark brows knotted above clear eyes of a peculiar tawny gold, the colour of the desert sand. Though his features were strong, he lacked his father's brutish looks, and owned a countenance considerably more handsome than the average man.
Kerrion fidgeted and fretted, rubbing his wrists were the chains chafed them. He drank more water and scowled at the assassin.
"Did my father suffer?"
"No." Blade frowned. "Unfortunately, I was not asked to make his death a slow
Blade frowned, but reined his temper with an effort. "You obviously have not noticed that you have created a situation from which you now have no way out, a particularly foolish move, I would say."
The Prince considered the situation. So long as he held the assassin's wrists, Blade was helpless, but, as he had pointed out, Kerrion could do nothing further without releasing him. For a brief period of stalemate they glared at each other, then Kerrion did the only thing he could, and released one of Blade's wrists to smash his fist into the assassin's chin, knocking his head sideways. Blade's vision darkened, and he went limp, his eyes closed. The Prince smiled and released his other wrist to sit back.
In a flash, the assassin jerked his arms up, the edges of his stiff hands striking the Prince on either side of his neck. Kerrion’s eyes rolled up as he keeled over, unconscious. Blade pushed him away and sat up, brushing leaves from his hair. Swiftly he fastened the chains around Kerrion's wrists, making any further attempts at escape impossible. Allowing himself the satisfaction of kicking the Prince in the gut, Blade set about lighting a fire and setting up camp.
By the time Kerrion woke, Blade had watered the horses and unsaddled them, heated water for tea and set a pot of stew on the fire to cook. The Prince groaned and clutched his gut, then tried to rub his neck. Finding his hands bound, he sat up and scowled at his captor.
Blade eyed him from across the fire. "Try anything like that again, and you will have more than a sore gut and neck to worry about. The Queen wants you alive, but she did not specify in what condition."
Kerrion coughed and bent awkwardly to rub his throat. "Could I have some water?"
"Certainly." Blade tossed him a water skin.
"You fight unfairly."
"Life is unfair, and that is the school that taught me. I do what is necessary to survive."
"What does your queen want with me?"
"She does not confide in me. I am not her advisor."
Kerrion looked bitter. "I expect she wants to execute me publicly, thereby raising the morale of her soldiers and people, strengthening them in the war. The death of my father will also aid her cause, for it puts my younger brother, who is inexperienced in the art of war, on the throne."
"If she executes you, it will not be for that reason. The Queen wishes to end the war."
Kerrion snorted. "She will never win it."
"She does not want to win. Only to find peace."
"By killing my father and kidnapping me? That will make my people hate her even more."
Blade shrugged, disinterested. "I do not know her plans, but she is no fool."
"She is a woman."
The assassin's eyes narrowed. "She is the Queen of the Jashimari, and if you show her any disrespect, I shall make you suffer for it."
"I will never crawl on my belly and lick her feet like you do, half man."
"I will see to it that you do."
They scowled at each other, then Blade returned to stirring the stew.
Kerrion's eyes drifted to the pot, and he swallowed, clearly hungry after a day without food. Blade dished up two bowls and handed one to the Prince, leaving him to eat awkwardly with his chained hands. After the meal, the assassin relaxed against an ironbark tree and sipped his tea, studying his captive. Kerrion did not resemble his father at all, other than his bronze skin and pale blond hair. Shandor's eyes had been a murky brown, his skin coarse and brows thick and wiry. Kerrion's fine dark brows knotted above clear eyes of a peculiar tawny gold, the colour of the desert sand. Though his features were strong, he lacked his father's brutish looks, and owned a countenance considerably more handsome than the average man.
Kerrion fidgeted and fretted, rubbing his wrists were the chains chafed them. He drank more water and scowled at the assassin.
"Did my father suffer?"
"No." Blade frowned. "Unfortunately, I was not asked to make his death a slow
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