It was a splendid day to be dealing out death.
I just love this start! LOL. I'm not one for reading blurbs (at least not of authors' books that I'm anticipating) so I admit to being a little worried that the guy in the prologue was the hero...(he's not).
Miach was left there, alone, staring at the empty place where his brothers had been. Unbidden, a vision came to him of the chamber before him, only it was abandoned, desolate, ruined, uninhabitable--
He shook his head sharply. That was no vision; it was a lie spawned by his own unease.
She wasn't sure if she was relieved that he was apparently hale and hearty or furious that he'd tricked her into coming by means of such a cryptic, panic-inducing, message. One thing was certain: they would have words about the wording of future missives.
She frowned fiercely at him. "I made great haste away from a very lucrative bit of business, simply because you called. I've hardly slept in a se'nnight for worry that I might arrive too late and find you dead. I daresay I deserve to at least know why you wanted me here!"
He smiled. "Is it not enough for an old man to simply wish to see the daughter of his heart?"
Morgan felt a sudden and very uncomfortable burning begin behind her eyes. She rubbed them to ease the stinging and to give herself time to recapture her frown. She was better off in a pitched battle. She did not do well with these kinds of sentimental utterings.
"A pleasant visit does not seem a good reason to me," she managed finally.
"Doesn't it?" he asked kindly. "A pleasant visit, a se'nnight of comfort, a chance for me to make sure you're still alive."
"I suppose," she conceded, but she wasn't sure she agreed. She did not need the luxurious surroundings she found herself in. She did not need the affection of a man who had taken her in as a scraggly, snarling, uncivilized lass who had been accustomed to sleeping with a dagger under her pillow and holding her own against men three times her age. She did not ever dwell with pleasure on those many years in Nicholas's care when he taught her of letters and numbers and the quiet beauty of the seasons changing from year to year.
She also did not think on him each time she drew the sword at her side, the glorious sword he'd had made for her and adorned with gems from his own personal treasury.
"Aye, my lord?"
"What were you thinking on?"
She sighed deeply. "I was contemplating my condition as an appallingly ungrateful wretch."
Nicholas laughed. "I daresay not."
The Wielders of the Sword of Angesand will come, out of magic, out of obscurity, and out of darkness...
I really, really, really want to know the rest of this prophecy!!
"I need a favor" [Nicholas] said, without preamble.
"Anything, of course," Morgan said, before she thought better of it. It wasn't in her nature to promise before determining the lay of the land, but how was she to deny this man any whim he might have? Besides, he wouldn't have sent for her if he hadn't needed her.
Seriously, I can't say enough how much I love Morgan.
"Why are you so opposed to magic?" he asked. "I daresay it could be quite useful in the right situation."
"It's cheating," she said promptly. "And unmanly. I find it to be a quite prissy way to be about your business, muttering and waggling fingers when you could just be wielding a sword."
LOL. Just wait until she meets Miach.
"Very well. I'll go tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Surely not. You'll need supplies. It will take me at least a se'nnight to see to them."
"A week, old man, will leave me too spoiled to make it across Melksham, never mind finding my way to the king's hall."
"Then sleep on the floor, Morgan, my dear."
She frowned. "The floor? And leave that bed to go to waste? I couldn't."
Nicholas laughed. "Sleep on the bed, love. It may be a while before you have another one."
"I shudder to think," she muttered, but she suspected that she would indeed sleep on the bed and be grateful for it.
This whole series just makes me smile. I love it so much.