Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Her gaze moved to the third man.
Creagan was smiling. Of course he was. He had somehow managed to turn a day her subjects brought grievances to her into a request that she find him a woman and had appeared to enjoy every moment of it.
Unlike the other two, there was an ease to him that seemed entirely out of place under the circumstances. He was tall and strongly built, his dark hair falling well past his shoulders, his hazel eyes holding the same amusement she'd seen in the Great Hall. A short growth of beard shadowed his jaw, lending him a roughness that should have made him appear more threatening. But his handsome features belied that. She had no doubt women fell at his feet, and it was obvious he was well aware of the effect of his exceptional good looks had on women.
Instead, he looked as though he'd come to enjoy himself.
Eudora found him the most unsettling of all, especially since she knew one was Lord of War, another, the Lord of Thunder, but her grandmother had never spoken the third one’s title. And she warned her not to, for once unleashed it was a force few could reckon with.
“I already know your name,” she told him.
Creagan's smile widened. “I made certain of it.”
“There is plenty of ale and wine to drink, help yourselves,” she said, pointing to a sideboard.
The three men exchanged glances before approaching the sideboard and filling tankards.
It was the first thing Eudora had seen since they'd entered the room that suggested there was something between them beyond friendship. Something old. Something she did not understand.
“You summoned us,” Legion reminded her as he remained where he was, tankard in hand. “Why?”
“Someone wants my throne,” she said without hesitation.
Torden took a swallow before saying, “Someone always wants a throne.”
“Not mine,” Eudora insisted. “The Ryburn Clan has ruled over Morra Mist for a century without any claims of illegitimacy.”
Creagan wandered closer to her. “No longer, according to rumors.”
Eudora looked sharply at him. “You've been asking questions.”
“More listening than asking,” Creagan corrected.
“So, that is why it took you so long to get here?” she accused.
“We came when we were ready,” Torden responded in a clipped tone.
Eudora's temper stirred. She had summoned legendary warriors and somehow ended up with three men who apparently believed the queen of Morra Mist should wait upon their convenience.
Legion spoke before she could respond. “Regardless of how long it took us to get here, we are obligated to carry out your command. So, have done with it and tell us what it is you want us to do.”
Eudora tempered her annoyance. The warrior was right. It was time to set them on their individual tasks.
“Rumors questioning my right to the throne began several weeks ago. At first, they were easily dismissed. They no longer are. Five villages have refused to send men for autumn training. Merchants have heard the same whispers beyond our borders. Someone is deliberately spreading doubt about my right to rule Morra Mist.”
“And you don't know who,” Legion said.
“Not a clue,” she admitted.
Creagan's gaze remained on her. “But you know more than you're telling us.”
“I have vital information known only to me that I need confirmed and managed.”
Legion's attention sharpened. “What do you mean by managed?”
Her chin lifted slightly. “You know very well what I mean. And you also know you must do as I command.”
The three warriors glared at her and for a moment, she actually feared them. But she retained her composure and continued to speak with authority.
“I have a task for each one of you, which I will speak to each one of you about privately. You will not share your tasks with each other.”
Torden's impatience vanished. “That means you don’t trust us.”
“It means I have my reasons and you do not need to know them.”
Torden looked ready to argue, but Eudora gave him no chance.
“You and Creagan will wait in the small chamber across the hall. I will speak with Legion first,” she ordered, knowing they had no choice but to obey.
Creagan glanced toward the door. “How long do you expect us to wait?”
“As long as necessary.”
He looked to the sideboard. “Then we'll need refreshments.”
Before Eudora could respond, he walked to the sideboard and helped himself to the decanter of wine.
Torden apparently approved of the idea. He grabbed the pitcher of ale.
Eudora glared at them.
Creagan tucked the decanter beneath his arm. “You did say to help ourselves.”
Eudora opened her mouth, thought better of it and pointed to the door. “Go.”
Creagan grinned. “As you command, my queen.”
Torden followed him without a word, taking the pitcher and his tankard with him.
The door closed behind them.
Eudora stared at it for several moments before turning and pointing to a chair by the hearth. “Sit.”
“I prefer to stand. I've been sitting on a horse much of the past week. I'd rather stand.”