Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) by Ben Cassidy Read Free Book Online Page A

Highness?”
    The princess’ face faltered for a moment. “Thank you, Lord Whitmore, but I am desperately tired after such a long day. I would like to freshen up a bit before we eat.”
    “Of course,” said Whitmore with a slight shadow of hurt in his eyes. “Perhaps later, then.”
    The princess turned, heading up the stairs into the palace. Her two handmaidens quickly followed her.
    A stable hand stepped up to Kendril. “Your mule, sir?”
    The Ghostwalker looked over suspiciously at him for a moment, then reluctantly handed the reins of the beast over.
    Joseph shook his head, coming over next to Kendril and Maklavir. “Dinner with the King of Llewyllan. This is pretty big.”
    “I’ll say,” said Maklavir with a groan. “And my clothes are practically in tatters. I’m hardly in condition to be dining with royalty.” He glanced back towards the castle gate. “I wonder what time the tailor shops in this town close?”
    Kendril patted the diplomat on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll work something out, Maklavir.”
    Joseph glanced up at the palace before them, and whistled softly. “Now that’s a piece of work.” He looked over at Kendril. “You didn’t see what happened to the prisoners, by any chance?”
    The Ghostwalker shrugged absently, removing his gloves. “Not really. Why?”
    The scout shrugged. “Just curious.”
    Kendril gave him a sharp glance.
    Maklavir dropped his purple cape after giving it a cursory examination. “Well, I’m off to town. Eru willing I’ll find a tailor that can work a miracle or two. I’ll see you tonight.”
    Kendril nodded without really listening. His eyes searched the finely dressed people scattered along the palace steps. There was still no sign of the raven-haired woman.
    “I’ll come with you,” Joseph said to Maklavir.
    “Keep yourselves out of trouble, both of you,” Kendril said in a low voice. “And be careful.”
    Maklavir straightened his cap, smiling. “You’re not still worried about some grand conspiracy, are you?” He took a deep breath, looking around. “I suppose there may be assassins lurking all around us even now.”
    Kendril didn’t smile. “Just keep your eyes open, all right?” He turned, walking slowly up the palace steps towards the door.
    Behind him Maklavir and Joseph walked back towards the main castle gate.
    Many of the residents of the palace were still out and about in front of the main doors, lingering after the arrival of the princess. Kendril shifted his eyes from one group to another, noticing the expensive clothes and fine perfumes that filled the cool evening air. He headed up the steps toward the palace doors.
    Kendril stopped short at the sight before him. A long central hallway stretched down away from the doors, ending in a large white staircase at the far end. The floor was covered with intricate rugs, some of which were undoubtedly from the Spice Lands to the far south. Finely polished wood tables and gilded chairs lined the walls on either side, while giant portraits of members of the Llewellyian royal family stretched upwards towards the vaulted ceiling. Several doorways of rich mahogany wood stood on either side of the hall, leading off to side rooms and hallways. Hanging above everything was a gigantic crystal chandelier, suspended by a golden chain.
    Across the entire length of the ceiling was a painted mural, leading all the way down to the staircase at the far end. Kendril craned his head upwards, trying to catch some of the details. It appeared to be a representation of many battles from Llewyllian history. Knights capered across blasted landscapes, while vile sultans from the Spice Lands urged their men onwards, scimitars in hand. On one panel was the famous Battle of the Lion’s Gate, with a depiction of Yeltrin the Just single-handedly holding the mountain pass against the barbarian hordes. The long-dead king stood in all his painted glory, a bloody two-handed sword in his hands as he defied his