Read Online The Traitor's Heir by Anna Thayer - Free Book Online

Eamon recoiled; the words seemed to spell an inescapable doom over him. “The throned does not give up his sworn,” Aeryn added quietly.
    Eamon glanced at her. “You mean the Master,” he whispered uneasily.
    Aeryn matched his gaze. “He is no master, Eamon; he took what was not his to take and sits where it was never given to him to sit. I mean the throned.”
    Eamon began to shake. “You’re a wayfarer… a snake…”
    Aeryn sat very still before him. “It is as you say,” she answered. A sad smile crossed over her face. “Will you execute me, too?”
    For a long moment, Eamon said nothing. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he breathed at last.
    â€œWhy didn’t I ever…?” Her mouth hung open incredulously. “You were set on that uniform!” she cried, gesturing to his jacket in disgust. “The Gauntlet would have found out or you would have had to kill me. Even if you didn’t, one of the others might have killed you for fear that you might betray me.”
    â€œOthers… other wayfarers?” Eamon’s glance flicked to the shadows, as though he expected strange creatures to leap out from them. “How many of you are there?” He shook his head. “No, a better question – and for River’s sake, Aeryn, you had better answer me this one – who are these wayfarers? No stories: I want the truth.”
    Aeryn watched him closely, carefully assessing every aspect of his face. He wondered whether she might be weighing up every second of the years they had known each other, to judge whether the signs of their friendship pointed to him as meriting her trust. Eamon matched her scrutiny steadily.
    She reached her decision. “What is this town called, Eamon?”
    Eamon stared. Was she mad? “Edesfield,” he said.
    â€œIt should be pronounced Ede’s Field, not Ed-es-field,” Aeryn told him.
    â€œEde’s Field?” Eamon repeated the new pronunciation dumbly. “Why should it be pronounced like that?”
    â€œBecause Ede was the King who fell in battle here. The battle is remembered, even though he is not. He was of the house of Brenuin, the house of kings.”
    Eamon felt a weight in his stomach. His mother had talked of kings; his father had tried to drive such thoughts from him. “There has never been a house of kings over the River, except perhaps in the dreams of small boys.”
    Aeryn watched him for a moment. Then she began to recite something. As Eamon listened he felt something old and deep, like distant music, hidden in her words.
    â€œSilver the glint as the midnight hills
Of the King’s spear.
Dark, dark the foes of the throne,
Sly in the mere.”
    Eamon gazed at her. “What is that?” he whispered.
    Aeryn smiled at him sadly. “A poem not read by bookbinders’ sons. It tells how Ede was betrayed and how the throned unlawfully took the River Realm from him.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Eamon breathed.
    â€œThe throned moved both people and land against their rightful king, Ede, promising power to those who went to war with him. The land had to swallow the swollen corpses of many of its own before the last battle was joined. At Edesfield, King Ede and the throned met for the last time.” She paused. “Ede was killed, and the throned marched down the River to take the city that you call Dunthruik.”
    â€œEde can’t have been much of a king if he lost,” Eamon ventured. “Power changes hands, Aeryn; it’s natural, and the fact that it is sometimes done in battle isn’t ‘unlawful’. Besides which,” he added, “Dunthruik is a great city and the throned is a good master of this land.”
    â€œA good master?” Aeryn shook her head with an angry laugh. “Look at your hand, Eamon. What kind of master gave you that?”
    Eamon looked uncomfortably at his