The Legend of Asahiel: Book 02 - The Obsidian Key by Eldon Thompson Read Free Book Online

was struggling to recall all that Marisha had told him about her father. There wasn’t much. The man had left both her and her mother when she was but a child—at her mother’s request. Upon his departure, he had bestowed upon her the secret pendant she wore, the pendant that had saved her life—and Torin’s—but that now, with her mother gone, only the young king knew of. Sacred blazes, she hadn’t even shared with him the man’s name. Although even if she had, he never would have assumed it to be the same Darinor he himself had met as a child, the same Darinor whose night of storytelling had inadvertently spawned in him the lifelong desire to one day seek out and recover—
    “Whoever is in command here, I don’t think we require an audience,” Darinor said. He made no effort to keep the edge from his voice, although as soon as he had spoken, he went back to consoling his daughter by resting his forehead against hers.
    Torin studied Marisha carefully. She continued to be wracked by sobs, but they appeared to be sobs of disbelief, maybe even joy. Though she had never said so, the one thing he had gathered from their sparse conversations on the subject was that she loved her father deeply, reserving for his memory a sacred regard such that she could not even share it with him, her husband-to-be.
    “Kien, that will be all.”
    To a man, the Fasor hesitated, as if seeking some further confirmation.
    “All of you, you are dismissed. I bid thanks for your prompt response.” As they began to disperse, he added, “Kien, resume post, please. See to it that we are not disturbed.”
    Kien nodded before remembering his salute.
    “Uh, my lord,” Stephan intervened, “the rehearsal?”
    “The rehearsal is postponed. See to it, Master Stephan.”
    “Canceled would be better,” Darinor remarked.
    The seneschal’s jaw dropped, and he looked to Torin in protest.
    “As he says,” Torin agreed.
    “My lord—”
    “Kien, if you please?”
    Kien saluted again before drawing the red-faced Stephan from the doorway. The door closed—carefully, so as not to disturb the pair kneeling just inside the threshold. An ensuing silence persisted until Torin wondered if he should excuse himself as well. He was about to do so when Marisha finally withdrew from the apparition before her.
    “Father, is it really you?”
    Darinor did not respond, but gently reached toward the silver chain barely visible around the neckline of her unfinished wedding gown. Marisha did not resist, but let him pull forth the flaming heartstone that hung from clasp and chain—the Pendant of Asahiel.
    From the angle at which he stood, Torin could not quite see the otherman’s face. But he guessed that the look Darinor gave was somehow lacking in approval, based on the guilt that flashed across Marisha’s features.
    “I kept it secret, Father. As you warned.”
    Darinor turned, just enough to frown at Torin. “And here I half expected to find him wearing it.”
    Torin scowled, a renewal of both his uncertainty and anger. This was not the kindly storyteller of whom he held such fond remembrances from his youth. What had he done to so fuel the man’s ire? He chewed up any number of retorts, seeking instead to set a tone of civility. “If you are Darinor,” he said, “you know that you are welcome here.”
    “And yet you still brandish your stolen blade.”
    Torin glanced down to where he held the Crimson Sword, half lowered at his side. With another scowl, he set its tip to the floor in front of him and folded his hands upon the pommel. “Will you tell us now why you’ve come?”
    Darinor lowered the Pendant softly to Marisha’s chest, then stood, pulling her up after him. “If you’ve composed yourself well enough to listen.”
    Despite the calming influence of the Sword, Torin felt his frustration building in waves. “You will forgive me, I’m sure. I am not accustomed to being ambushed in my own quarters.”
    Darinor guided Marisha to one of