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

enemies to advance. On another panel was the Siege of Balneth. This painting was much darker than the others, with the red flames in it almost life-like as they consumed a city forever frozen in time. A fell creature of the Void, its mouth open in a perpetual howl of rage, was shown on top of the white walls of the city, its great sweeping claws spread to each side.
    All in all, Kendril had to admit, it was fairly impressive.
    He looked around him. The hallway was filled with people, and the sound of constant chatter created a low din. There was no sign of Serentha or the mysterious amber-eyed woman. As Kendril stepped forward, one of the many conversations around him caught his attention.
    “She hasn’t given you an answer yet?” came a low voice.
    “No,” came the reply, “but I’m sure Her Highness is wise enough to know she has little choice. She will say yes. It is only a matter of time.”
    Kendril turned slowly.
    Lord Whitmore and Sir Reginald were standing against one wall, talking together. Whitmore raised his eyebrows when he caught sight of Kendril.
    “Ah,” he said brightly, “you’re one of the men who helped the princess, aren’t you? I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Lord Whitmore, and this is my good friend Sir Reginald.” He offered a hand.
    The Ghostwalker took it and tried his best to smile. “Kendril.”
    “So,” said Sir Reginald in a cool voice, his eyes giving Kendril a penetrating glare, “I assume you will be joining us for dinner in the palace tonight?”
    The Ghostwalker nodded, and met the nobleman’s steady gaze with his own. He narrowed his eyes for a moment. “We haven’t met before, have we?”
    For a brief moment there was the slightest flash of fear in Sir Reginald’s eyes. “No,” he said quickly, “I don’t believe so.”
    “Well,” said Lord Whitmore with a laugh, “you’d better get changed, Mr. Kendril. Dinner is in just an hour.”
    The Ghostwalker switched his gaze to Whitmore. “Come again?”
    The nobleman looked Kendril up and down. “Surely you’re not going to go to dinner in…in that ?”
    Kendril glanced down at his borrowed clothes and muddy boots, covered over by his black cloak. He looked back up at Lord Whitmore.
    “You would prefer I go naked?”
    Sir Reginald sneered, but said nothing.
    Whitmore raised an eyebrow at Kendril. “No,” he said slowly, “but perhaps some clothes that are more suitable to the occasion would be in order?”
    The Ghostwalker lowered his eyebrows. “I doubt it.”
    Lord Whitmore looked askance at Kendril. “Why ever not?”
    “Because, my dear Lord Whitmore,” came a new voice from behind them, “Kendril here is a Ghostwalker. His black cloak is the uniform of his order.”
    Kendril swiveled his head. The raven-haired woman he had seen before was coming silently up beside him, her face coy and mischievous. At her throat was an amber amulet that caught the light with a mystical gleam. She wore a beautiful white low-cut dress that left her shoulders bare.
    Lord Whitmore took her hand, kissing it. “Lady Bronwyn, you grace us with your presence.”
    “You are too kind, Lord Whitmore,” she replied, never taking her eyes off Kendril. “And what about you, Mr. Kendril?” she asked smoothly. She held out her hand. “Will you kiss the hand of a lady?”
    The corner of Kendril’s mouth curled up slightly. “That depends on who the lady is.”
    She gave a soft giggle. “Why Mr. Kendril, if I didn’t know better I would say you just insulted me.”
    Sir Reginald took the offered hand and kissed the top. “ I for one am always pleased to be in the company of such a beautiful woman,” he said with a side-glance at Kendril.
    “Now, now, Sir Reginald,” came Bronwyn’s sweet reply, “don’t be too hard on Mr. Kendril. He is a Ghostwalker, after all, and forbidden to touch a woman. No skin contact whatsoever.” She threw her golden gaze onto Kendril’s face. “Isn’t that right, Mr.