Home > The Lost Queen (The Lost Queen Trilogy #1)(6)

The Lost Queen (The Lost Queen Trilogy #1)(6)
Author: Signe Pike

I flushed. A long moment passed before Father straightened and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Languoreth, I assure you. You will have plenty of time in Partick once you’re fully grown.”

Father moved to take my hand but I yanked it from reach, narrowing my eyes instead. “Gods know where you got your temper.” He glowered as he bent to yank his horse’s girth.

“Likely the same place she got her fiery hair.” Cathan appeared from the kitchens clasping a hunk of bread stuffed with strips of beef that he used to gesture vaguely in Father’s direction. A send-off from our cook, Agnes, no doubt. She was forever stuffing Cathan with food.

Father shot him a grim look and smoothed a hand over his head, where thick strands of auburn yet battled the gray.

“You must be easy on her,” Cathan said, striding across the courtyard. “It takes practice to get used to farewells, but with leadership comes obligation.” He turned to me. “Languoreth knows this. Do you not?”

My nod was reluctant.

Father bent to me once more, his eyes searching mine. “I will return, you have nothing to fear. I’ve got ten men-at-arms accompanying me to Partick. I swear to you, all will be well.”

He pulled his cloak more closely about his shoulders and extended his heavy silver brooch to me. “Here. Be a kind daughter and help your father fasten his cloak.”

I took the metal halfheartedly, pushing the thick pin through the fabric to secure it at his breast, and he smiled. “I nearly forgot. I’ve got something for you. A gift.”

Reaching into the folds of his cloak he pulled out a leather packet with a flourish like a traveling magician. It was heavy and wrapped in buttery calfskin. A weapon, I was sure of it. Too small to be a sword. And yet the weight of it felt substantial in my hands. I touched the cord that bound it.

“Go ahead. Open it.”

Slowly, I tugged the cord, and the folded leather fell open to reveal the thick golden handle of a knife. I drew the weapon from its intricately tooled leather sheath to examine it more fully. How could something so beautiful be functional? The handle was decorated with delicate threads of interlacing. Amber, amethysts, and rubies were fashioned into the glittering scales of a fierce and magnificent serpent. His tail curled around the handle’s tip and the strong iron blade emerged from his gaping mouth, a cold and slicing sort of fire.

The sight of it left me speechless.

“I have seen you watching your brother and Gwenddolau train at their weapons,” Father said. “There is no reason you shouldn’t learn the skill of it. You are, after all, the daughter of a warrior.”

Cathan leaned in to admire the knife. “A strong and beautiful weapon,” he said. “Fit for a queen.”

A weapon of my own. Despite my sadness, my heart became a feathered thing, testing its wings in the cage of my chest. I had been wanting this—oh, how I’d been wanting this. It had been decades—no, centuries—since women were privileged to train in weapons. Now, at last, I had my chance. I traced my fingers over the glittering scales in disbelief.

“This is mine?”

“Yes.”

“And I may learn how to wield it?”

“Well, that was my hope. It’s otherwise a rather dangerous gift to give a child, wouldn’t you agree?” Father’s smiled broadened. “Your brother’s gone off with Brant and Brodyn to do their weapon work. If you hurry, you might begin right now.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

I folded the knife into the pocket of my cloak and reached to place my hands on either side of his bearded face. “Thank you, Father.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled in the way they did when he was truly happy. “Wield it well, little one. I’ll soon be home to see your use of it. May the Gods keep you.”

“May the Gods keep you,” I echoed, praying it might be true.

He hoisted me up and kissed me, then handed me to Cathan. “Cathan. Say good-bye to our warrior princess.”

Cathan groaned at the weight of me. I breathed in the deep scent of incense as he held me against his cloak. “Tell your brother to mind what you say, eh? We all know who’s the wiser.”

Voices sounded from the direction of the stables, and as Cathan set me down, I looked up to see Gwenddolau coming through the courtyard, my father’s men close behind. His heavy green cloak made him look like a forest spirit, but his eyes were shadows. No news yet of his father.

I reached for him and he ducked beneath the haggard fingers of the apple tree to embrace me.

“Hey now, little one. Don’t be so sad. We’ll be home before you know it.” He gave a small smile and swung onto his horse. “I’m leaving my bird in your care. Take good care of her, will you?”

I looked up at him, so handsome and noble upon his mare. “I want to go with you,” I said, my voice small.

Gwenddolau rested his callused hand on my head.

“Your place is here at Cadzow just now. Do not be in such a hurry to grow up, Languoreth. Before you know it, you’ll be fifteen, and these times will be like a gust of wind. One moment through the trees, and the next, forever gone.”

His light eyes were sad. I wasn’t sure how to answer, or if I was even meant to. I climbed the rain-slick ladder of the guard tower instead and watched as they rode out, until the far gate was bolted behind them. In the quiet that descended I let out a breath. But the sinking feeling was buoyed by the weight of the new gift in my pocket. Scrambling back down the ladder, I found Crowan waiting in the courtyard, a heavy shawl wrapped tight round her little frame.

“I’ll not be the one to say it, not me, but it don’t seem fitting, giving a young lady a knife.”

I gripped the cold metal protectively, the way a sillier girl might hold a doll.

“Oh, go ahead, then,” she said. “Go and find your brother. But mind you don’t run with that evil blade unsheathed! And, for the sake of the Gods, put some clothes on you first! Is that a shift I spy under that cloak?”

“I’ll dress,” I promised, and ran from the courtyard before she could change her mind.

I found the men by the stables. Brodyn was leaning against the barn with an easy grace, his long brown hair tied back and legs clad in training leathers, watching his older brother, Brant, parry the swift clash of Lail’s sword. Brant was short and slightly stocky, whereas Brodyn was lean. But what my cousin Brant lacked in height, he’d gained in brawn and in his sense of command. Brant was serious, while Brodyn was forever jesting. Both brothers—with their dark hair and acorn-colored eyes—were as gifted with weaponry as they were in their looks, as the young maids of Cadzow would readily agree.

I watched Lailoken’s feet move in their rhythm of attack like the steps of a dance, his sandy brows knit in concentration. My brother moved with such ease now. I’d tugged on a tunic and a pair of Lailoken’s trousers, the ones I always borrowed for tromping the woods and mucking round by the river—the ones I wore when I most wished I belonged in the world of men.

I observed them sparring until Brant sensed me standing behind him and lifted his hands in surrender. “Peace, Lailoken, peace. Your sister has arrived.”

Lail lowered his blade and turned to me. “Father’s given you the knife!”

Hot Books
» House of Earth and Blood (Crescent City #1)
» A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire
» From Blood and Ash (Blood And Ash #1)
» A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime
» Deviant King (Royal Elite #1)
» Den of Vipers
» House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2)
» Sweet Temptation
» The Sweetest Oblivion (Made #1)
» Chasing Cassandra (The Ravenels #6)
» Wreck & Ruin
» Steel Princess (Royal Elite #2)
» Twisted Hate (Twisted #3)
» The Play (Briar U Book 3)
» The War of Two Queens (Blood and Ash #4)