Thornlost (Book 3) by Melanie Rawn Read Free Book Online Page A

Royal envoy. But such things come expensive.” She sipped at her brandy and set the glass aside. “He will be nine years old this summer. By this autumn I hope to see him enrolled in the King’s College rather than the littleschool he now attends. There, he will receive the best education, and make the friends necessary for his advancement.” She paused again. “We must wait, of course, for the particular style of his magic to appear. But in anticipation of that day, your father and I wish to see him placed as favorably as possible.”
    He drank brandy and waited for her to go on.
    “Your father’s father was under the impression, as was I, that you would be my only offspring. Cadriel Silversun died years before Derien was born. Thus no provision was made for another son or daughter. The whole of his legacy, while not vast by certain standards, is now yours.” She looked him directly in the eyes. Hers were dark and determined, and he saw that there were a few tiny dry lines at their corners. “I am certain you understand what I am asking of you now.”
    He had the irrelevant thought that Derien was lucky to have been born a boy. What their mother would have done with a daughter didn’t bear contemplating. Married off as young as decently possible to some rich, well-connected lord—if she turned out “prettily enough.” If not… if he’d had a sister who looked like
him
…
    “Cayden. I desire to know what you intend to do.”
    She wanted something from him. Something only he could give her. She was actually
asking
him rather than demanding, ordering, insisting, informing him of a decision already made. This was unprecedented. He wished he weren’t so tired; he couldhave enjoyed it more. He finished off his brandy in one gulp—disgraceful, not to savor a fine liquor, but he wanted to get this over with.
    “Share the money with Derien? Of course. On one condition.”
    He watched triumph blaze in her eyes, and the quick flare of angry outrage that followed it. Interesting, to see her struggle between elation that he would do as she wanted, and fury that he dared demand anything in return.
    “Once the paperwork is done and the money is officially mine, it goes into a fund with two names on it, and two names only: mine and Lord Fairwalk’s.”
    The implication sent an ugly flush into her cheeks. Once more she fought rage, and the effort shook her voice. “That is unworthy of you.”
    “But prudent. Be as insulted as you please, Mother. You’ve got what you wanted—for Derien, for his education and support.” He laid a light emphasis on the name. “And as for still living here, I’ll be gone at Trials soon, and then on the Ducal or Royal Circuit all summer and into the autumn, and then I’ll be gone for good.”
    “You’ve found rooms?”
    “Not yet.” And he would have to make drastic alterations in his searchings, now that he wouldn’t have his grandfather’s money to spend. Lord Oakapple’s purse would go only so far. Touchstone was still owed for the trip to the Continent last year, there being some contention regarding a shattered row of windows at the Princess’s father’s palace, but Kearney was working on that. In any event, the rooms he’d end up with would no doubt horrify her if she ever saw them, which he had every confidence she never would. “After I come back from the Circuit. Then you and Father can concentrate
every
effort on Dery.” He started for the door, then swung back round. “One other stipulation. He neverknows where the money came from. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve spent years scrimping for this. Agreed?”
    Through rigid lips she said, “Agreed.”
    With a nod, he left her and climbed the wrought-iron stairs up to the fifth floor. His bedchamber was despicably tidy. He had the urge to rip everything to shreds, smash the windows, splinter the furniture. Instead, he undressed, and before he crawled into bed gave himself a Namingday present: a night’s