The Plan Commences Read online Kristen Ashley (The Rising #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Witches Tags Authors: Series: The Rising Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
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I detested sherry.

“Heed my words, do not be in that tent when your husband returns, my queen,” Kyril said under his breath.

I looked to the rise of the moor.

The light was poor.

I could still see Farah was now fully in my husband’s arms.

She was betrothed to another. When we were but betrothed, Mars wouldn’t allow my own cousin to hold my hand, much less embrace me.

But he had no issue, in front of the whole camp, which included Farah’s intended, and Mars’s wife (that being me), holding her in his arms.

I looked again to where my father was standing, waiting for an answer.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” I called.

He smiled, nodded and moved toward his and my mother’s tent while I listened to Kyril emit a grunt of displeasure.

I tipped my head back to catch his gaze. “If my husband returns, please tell him I’m with my mother and father.”

“I’m escorting you there, my queen,” he replied.

“It’s three tents away and we’re surrounded by Dellish, Airenzian and Firenz soldiers. I’m quite safe to wander three tents down the line.”

“I’m…escorting…you there, my queen,” he repeated, mush less patiently this time, and the last time had not been all that patient.

I made a move to proceed, murmuring, “Then let us go.”

“You should leave word with someone where you are so they can tell our king when he arrives,” Kyril instructed.

I stopped and again looked to him. “You know where I’ll be. You can tell him. And if my husband wishes to find me, he can seek me.”

“I will not be leaving you,” he reminded me.

This was true. He was my escort often and when he was done escorting me somewhere, he didn’t go off to play a game of tuble.

His tone was much changed—quieter, softer—when he went on to advise, “Don’t play these games, Silence.”

“I’m not playing any games,” I denied.

“You are.”

“I am not. I’m having a sherry with my parents. We do that in Wodell, and as you know, we’re now in Wodell. Sherry or brandy or port. Though I prefer a wee dram of Benedictine.”

Kyril glowered down at me.

“My mother and father are waiting,” I prompted.

“He tires of this distance, my queen. You do not know him well. He’s very taken with you and thus has been courting you. But I advise you not to test him.”

This was not news to me.

Since our wedding night some weeks prior, a night when Mars was very thoughtful and allowed me to rest after an intensely trying time, rather than expecting me to consummate our marriage, things that had been very promising between my new husband and I had deteriorated.

And of late, Mars was letting it be known that he was not fond of it.

This was, I would admit only to myself, my doing.

For Kyril was right, I did not know Mars very well.

However, what I did know was that he was indeed taken with me and he could be very affectionate and loving.

He could also be vicious and ruthless.

He had not been these things to me, but I’d witnessed them as he’d tortured and taken men’s lives, in battle and by executing them.

I had spoken to no one of what I’d seen and how it made me feel.

I was now queen.

Queen of a land where traitors were put to death without trial.

Tortured and put to death.

My dreams were filled of these things. Remembering them and conjuring new images.

These new images included Mars torturing my father.

Mars torturing my friend and maid, Estrilda.

Mars torturing me.

This meant I woke with a start, with heart racing and skin chilled.

This I kept to myself as well, though my husband knew as I slept in his arms every night.

It was just that he had quit asking about it and cooing me back to sleep when I said it was naught but anxiety after the attack and the last quake made by the Beast.

He now, I suspected, knew it was more.

He just tired of attempting to make me talk about it.

A queen kept her chin raised, her eyes steady, her feelings hidden. I knew. I had been watching my Aunt Mercy, Queen of Wodell, and Elpis, Mars’s mother, Queen of Firenze, since it occurred to me my present might include a new husband and whatever my part was in the prophecy to defeat the Beast.

But my future and the rest of my existence included being queen.

Queens did not get squeamish.

Queens did not complain.

Queens did not have nightmares that they brought into the day.

Queens were smart, quiet, and most of all, they carried on.

I would some day, I knew, need to come to terms with this in some manner and find my way to accept my husband as he was in our lives, as my ruler, and in our bed.

It was just that now I was finding ways to…delay that.



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