Scion of the Wood (Southwind Knights #3) *SAMPLE*

Chapter Four

Chapter IV: The Master

As Asher cut west through the vale, a pair of birds soared overhead—doves, no doubt bearing letters from the Clerk to Arden Landing. Below, a figure climbed the valley’s edge, up the slope into the Trees’ Wood. Though Galen’s cloak blended in with the dull grass, Asher distinguished him with ease. His eyesight had sharpened. He lifted his stave and jogged the rest of the way.

Asher found Galen at the healing shack, knee-deep in the earth. He hefted a shovel, scooping dirt clumps aside as though digging a grave. Asher was sure that Galen heard him arrive, but the Healer dug on.

Asher watched, unsure of what to say. A putrid smell tickled his nose. The lump of manticore lay festering at the clearing’s edge, a shocking reminder of the day’s onslaught of change. Galen’s grave was too small for the carcass, however. Perhaps it was for the Healer himself. He was an outlaw now; the Queen would not renege. It almost seemed as though Galen deserved it—or that he thought he did. He had kept something from the Queen, and Asher was sure it was tied to the stranger from that first night. In six months, they hadn’t spoken of him.

“Who was he?” Asher said.

Galen froze, shovel raised. His arms relaxed, and he thrust the spade into the mound of loose, dark earth before turning around.

Whereas a smile from the Healer could outshine the grotesque scarring, the pained look he now wore made a horror out of him. A bead of sweat fell between the two long cuts, sliding down to his chin and dropping off like a tear. A dragon had come that close to taking his life. Its fire had taken his beauty instead, making him an outcast at-a-glance. Yet the Healer had never expressed any regret or fear until the stranger appeared.

Galen stared past Asher into nothing. His voice was deep with sorrow. “When Queen Sylvia died, it was sudden. My master and I were summoned to the Tower. They found her in bed, her handmaidens told us. No one had come or gone in the night. No sign of struggle or poison. She was old, though. My master couldn’t revive her, and so we left.

“All day the bells tolled through the valley, and while most of the capital mourned, some plotted. After Margaret’s death”—Asher twitched—“the Queen never named a new Heir Expectant. Lilian was the only remaining Princess, but Sylvia never passed her the official title. Some thought it was because of the Queen’s son. It was a poorly-kept secret in court that she’d borne a bastard and brought him up in the castle.”

Asher bit back the flow of questions that sprang to his lips. He knew enough: Royal Ladies were forbidden to wed or bear children. He’d mulled over the fact many times when thinking of Hannah.

“His name was Silas,” Galen continued. “We were pages together, and despite his status, Sir Faris favored him, and he favored Sir Faris. No one protested. In those days, people fought for the Queen—not the Queendom—and Faris was as beloved as Sylvia. Hero of the Brown Wars. Knight Exemplar. No one complained when he allowed Silas to train with the squires, because the boy was already as good as any of them, if not better.

“They said that as the Queen aged, she grew overly fond of him. I’d left the Institute by then, but a storm of rumors gathered. Some said he’d grown wicked, others that he was as wise and strong as his mother and father. The Queen was seen in public with him. It was thought that Sylvia planned to break the thousand-year matriarchy and crown him Expectant. It never became more than rumor before she died.

“Can’t fault Lilian for taking the throne. It was her right as Princess—her duty. But there were questions surrounding Sylvia’s death. She’d been old but still strong. Sir Faris was not himself that day. Before the whole court, he accused Lilian of murdering the Queen. She denied it.” Galen wiped sweat from his brow. Worry lines met burn scars between his eyes. “I was here that night, and there was a battle in the Tower. Sir Faris led a force into the Queen’s bedchamber, where Lilian had already taken residence. They made to seize the throne in Silas’ name, but Sir Faris was defeated, and the Queen declared that Silas had been slain with the other insurgents.”