The High King's Tomb by Kristen Britain Read Free Book Online Page A

heroic knights and warriors from Sacoridia’s past, and a pair of aristocrats dueling for a lady’s favor. There was no way of knowing if these visages were accurate, since she had never met those whom the figures represented, with the exception of the first high king, Jonaeus.
    He sat on a thronelike chair, sunshine streaming on him from an arched window above. Though the label claimed this was King Jonaeus, the figure was all wrong. It certainly looked kingly with its crown and strong features, but it wasn’t at all as she remembered. King Jonaeus had been a grizzled, wearied warrior with gray in his beard. Even the clothing was inaccurate. She couldn’t imagine him having access to finely tailored silks, a luxury unheard of during the time of the Long War. In life, he was a man of hard leathers, coarse wool, and iron. There was no way the artists could have known his true appearance, she reminded herself, the way she had. They could only make guesses and create a representation.
    She shrugged and was about to move on to the next tableau when glass shattered and someone screamed. Startled, she grabbed her skirts and hurried out to the main hall as fast as her daintily-shod feet would carry her. A surprising sight greeted her. A man wearing a black silk mask stood in the center of the hall fending off attendants and museum patrons with a rapier. In his other hand he held a document taken from a smashed case.
    “Priceless!” an attendant sobbed. “Please, I beg of you! Please don’t take it.”
    No one else moved. Ladies clung to their escorts, faces pale. Gentlemen stood frozen as if a spell had been worked upon them. Braymer looked his usual bewildered self, but was silent for once, with Styles bravely splayed in front of his young ward.
    “Priceless to you maybe,” the masked man told the attendant, “but eminently useful to me.” Then to the rest he added, “My apologies for interrupting your afternoon. Good day.” And he saluted them with his sword.
    Braggart, Karigan thought with distaste. She sighed. If no one else was going to do anything to stop him, perhaps as a representative of the king she should.
    “Halt!” she cried after him as he turned to flee. “In the name of the king!”
    Everyone stared at her in surprise, including the thief, whose eyes sparkled behind his mask.
    “You are breaking king’s law,” Karigan said. The thief took two steps toward her and halted. She felt his eyes look her up and down in crude fashion. She blushed.
    And he laughed. “Yes, and what do you plan to do about it, my lady? Certainly nothing to muss that hair so nicely arranged on your head.”
    “Oh, good heavens,” she murmured in disgust. She grabbed her skirts and bustled to the nearest wall of weaponry. She yanked a sword from its mount.
    “Y–you’re not supposed to t–touch the artifacts,” the attendant cried, fretting at his handkerchief. She glared at him, stifling further argument.
    The masked man laughed. “I feel so threatened.”
    Karigan rolled her eyes. Grabbing a bunch of skirt with her left hand, she started toward the braggart with the sword held before her. Braymer suddenly came to life and darted to her side, clutching her arm.
    “Mistress Karigan, what are you doing? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from this villain, I’ll—”
    She yanked her arm loose and brushed him aside. He fell back several steps, perhaps not expecting her strength. The thief watched with apparent interest.
    Though Arms Master Drent had trained her thoroughly in all manner of fighting techniques and scenarios, she had never fought in a dress. She was hoping it would not come to an actual fight.
    “Leave the document and go,” Karigan said. “That artifact belongs to the people of Sacoridia.”
    “And you will stop me, my lady?” There was much amusement in the thief’s voice, and an upturn to his lips suggested a smile.
    Karigan sighed. “If I must.” She shifted the sword in her grip. It was a