The Isle of Skiy by K.L. Noone EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: K.L. Noone
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
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The Isle of Skiy
By K.L. Noone
The isle of Skiy, as the tale goes—this tale, the one I will tell
you now—was a lovely land, a rich and fertile land. It glowed with
good health like an emerald dropped into the glittering sapphire of
the sea. But it was an emerald that lay alone.
No one came or went from Skiy, not in those days. But that
was before the world changed; before the eightieth Lord of Skiy, and
the man who would become his Consort, brought that change to the
world.
Of course, they’ve always said they aren’t heroes. They would
say so to me now, if they were here in this tavern: Lyrho, we didn’t
set out to be heroes. And perhaps they’re not. But that’s getting
ahead of the story.
The people of Skiy, the histories tell us, had been contented
with this isolated state of affairs. The sea was bountiful, the land
fertile; the children of Skiy, all agreed, were born with an
extraordinary beauty that bordered on the magical. No one ever left
the island; why should they, when nowhere else was Skiy? Neither
did it trouble the inhabitants that no one came to visit them from
foreign places, bringing news of strange and exotic lands and the
scents of distant spices and silks. The people of Skiy had always
scoffed at such notions when the youngest children, who knew no
better, brought up such questions. Skiy needed nothing beyond
itself; and, indeed, that appeared to be true.
No one grew old on Skiy, only older. Disease and ill health
were unknown on the island, and it was not uncommon for a man to
see his third century before his calling into the deep. Such passings
were always peaceful, never unpleasant, as if the person had merely
decided that it was time to go. Deaths were, in fact, relatively well
attended, as they were something of a novelty on the island.
Funerals, however, were something else again; and that was
one of the best-kept secrets of Skiy.
The eightieth Lord of Skiy was a young man, whose father
had died unexpectedly the year before. Like many of the past rulers
of Skiy, he was handsome, and charming, and took care of his
people with a kind hand, if a slightly inexperienced one. Unlike many
of the past rulers of Skiy, he was also a curious man, and his father’s
sudden passing had struck him hard. Kevane’s father had been only
ninety-eight, and no one had quite been able to explain why his heart
should have given out so abruptly.
Such an event was not unknown in history, but it had not
happened for over four hundred years, and never before to a ruling
Lord of Skiy. Kevane had never expected to inherit so soon, and
would have been surprised to hear, after the first year of feeling as
though he were floundering in water over his head, that his people
spoke his name with approving nods in taverns and tea-rooms all
across the island.
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