The king gave Bertaud one assessing, incredulous stare and rose from his couch. Eles, behind him, cocked his head to one side and looked warily interested. Bertaud waited as the king murmured a word of apology to his little queen. He whispered something to her that made her blush and giggle, and she went out happily. She smiled at Bertaud as she left the room, a smile untouched by any faintest shadow of worry. She looked very young. Keenly aware of his own youth and inexperience, Bertaud glanced after her. He found himself faintly aware of surprise that he had ever managed to be jealous of this girl, whom Iaor petted and reassured and dismissed like a child; the king had never treated him so—even when he had been a child. Now, far worse than the intrusion of the new young queen into Iaor’s life was the new question of how much of Iaor’s favor had ever been merited by a man incompetent enough to lose a hundred men and a mage in a single day’s disastrous campaign. How much would be left, after this?
What do You think about Lord Of The Changing Winds?
