THE BROKEN QUEEN (COURT OF THE LAST DRAGON #1) BY LIDIYA FOXGLOVE EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: LIDIYA FOXGLOVE
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal / Sci-Fi
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.5 MB
- Price: Free
Harrai
The first edge of dawn broke over the eastern mountain
range, turning the soft clouds to pink, and waking the
dragon king before the morning bells.
Harrai never slept well, not since he was a child and the
weight of the throne fell unexpectedly on his shoulders. For
years he had refused to sleep in this bedroom, despite the
striking view, because he could not think of it is as his, could
not accept that his parents were gone. But twenty years had
gone by, and he had fully embraced the role: the crown, the
duties, the rooms.
This moment of pristine morning beauty, when the first
light grazed the snow-capped peaks to the west, was the
only moment of the day he was alone.
So very alone.
The morning bells rang.
He threw off the covers and took off his linen sleep shirt,
folding it loosely and leaving it on the bed for the maids.
Jarlan had always teased him about this, a king trying to
make things easier for the maids. But Harrai had never
grown quite comfortable with being served. It felt like the
mark of a kingdom gone soft. If he couldn’t keep his
chambers clean and dress himself, how could he be expected
to take up a sword for his country either? What sort of man
was that?
Not that it matters. We’re failing, no matter what I do, and
unless we find the queen…
Well, he had no control over that.
His agenda today was to tour the larger farms of Kota and
speak to the farmers, assessing the state of the spring
plantings. He could dress simply, thank the goddess,
although there would be no time for a morning ride with
Dirjet with such a full schedule. Too bad, but he’d still rather
spend a day at the farms than in court.
He wore a shirt of dark blue silk, clasped to the side, with
a belt of shining dragon scale, or else he knew Grandmother
would take one look and deem him too plain to be seen. He
tugged on sturdy boots and was brushing his hair back
around his black horns–the true mark of royal blood,
inherited from the blood of dragons in his veins–when he
heard voices outside his door. A number of them. He was
expecting his breakfast, but this was definitely not breakfast.
He opened the door, still holding a comb, and nearly
groaned when he saw Grandmother, Master Peitir of the
court telepaths, several of his disciples, and a few attendants
tagging along for good measure. They all had a restless,
pinched look about them.
“Curses,
” Harrai said. “One look at you all and I want to
go back to bed. Something’s happened.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Well, spit it out.” As the moment dragged on, Harrai’s
heart started pounding. This reminded him far too much of
the morning he was told his parents had been found. That
awful word, in that awful tone.
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