I'm at work on the third installment of the Hexborn series. If you haven't yet read Unclean, you may want to avert your eyes. Also, what are you waiting for?! For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy this very rough draft of a scene from the as yet untitled book 3. Happy reading!
***
“And how does this morning find her grace?” Silas asked with a wink.
“Cranky,” Shiloh complained. “Can we go back to sleeping in tents?”
Shiloh sat at the desk in her newly refurbished study at Greenhill Palace. Grateful as she was to be under a roof and between solid walls after months of war, adjusting to her new life as the queen of Bryn was proving even more difficult than she had feared. It was but a few days after her coronation, and it was time to settle into a proper routine after all of the excitement. And yet, that routine already chafed.
“Is it really as bad as all that?” Silas replied, lips twitching. Standing, mostly free from his wheelchair these days, he towered over his diminutive wife and sovereign. “I’m still rather enjoying having a real bed myself.”
“You don’t get woken up by five ladies in waiting who then proceed to take at least an hour to get you dressed,” she groused. “I still don’t see why Jane can’t help me.”
“It is an honor to dress the queen,” Silas explained, “and to delegate that task to a common maid would insult the families of the highest-ranking ladies in waiting.”
“I think they resent it anyway, dressing the likes of me,” she replied, her voice conveying more hurt than she had realized she felt. “They always look like they’re smelling spoiled milk. Save Penny, obviously.”
Silas clenched his jaw. “Is that so? Perhaps someone ought to have a word with them.”
Shiloh smiled. “Going to drag them to the top of the High Tower, are you? I thought you were worried about angering their families.”
Silas snorted. “No, I thought, perhaps, we should have Queen Penn take the ladies in hand. Handling them would be an appropriate and helpful task for her. I know you have no interest in spending your time and energy on wrangling them.”
“Sounds like a reasonable plan,” Shiloh agreed. “I have thought of something for them to do with their time. Do you suppose they would enjoy planning for the decoration of the Dark Tower, now that the glass windows are going in?”
Silas smiled. “Yes, I think they would find that properly diverting. We’ll give them a budget. I’ll set it low, as they will inevitable ignore it.”
“Splendid. What’s next on your list?”
“Correspondence. The Emperor of Vree invites you to visit his capital. I assume you want to graciously decline?”
Shiloh cocked her head to one side. “This would be in the summer?”
“I assume so. Journeying north in winter does not strike me as an enjoyable outing, and we have not been long at home. You want to go, your grace?”
“Silas, we’re alone. Can you please cease with the ‘your grace’ nonsense?”
“Forgive me, little bird. You wish to visit Vree?” he asked, bowing an apology in his chair.
“Well, it is supposed to be beautiful, is it not?”
“Oh, yes,” Silas replied. “The capital, Duvale, is remarkable. A city in the trees, shrouded in mist.” He eyed her closely. “What else are you thinking, little bird? I suspect this is not simply a sudden yearning to play tourist.”
“I am thinking than an alliance might be prudent, given Gerne’s perpetual troublesomeness. Perhaps Estany would also be interested in such an arrangement.”
Silas grinned. “Perhaps Queen Shiloh wishes to fire a shot across Fenroh’s bow?”
A smile snuck across Shiloh’s face. “Maybe a little.” Her hatred for the man who had taken over the church had not diminished in the months since their last encounter.
“Why don’t I have both ambassadors pay us a visit later this week? We can discuss it over tea, like civilized people.”
“Perfect. What else to report?”
“Our men are shipping Westan down here, and I’ll start in on him. It’s possible he managed to communicate with the boy while we were at Castle Redwood. His trial is to begin in a month, so he needs to be here anyway.”
“Splendid,” Shiloh replied. She looked as though she’d bitten a lemon.
“Better to get it over with. Your first execution. Such a special moment in the life of a monarch,” Silas joked.
“It isn’t funny,” Shiloh shot back.
“It’s a little funny. And at least we know he has it coming.”
Shiloh could not argue there. Westan, once king via his marriage, had tried to burn down the City before he fled in the face of Shiloh’s troops.
“Don’t wear yourself out on the likes of Westan,” she cautioned. Her brows drew together. “I don’t want you making yourself sick.”
“The day I can’t handle Westan without breaking a sweat is the day I hang up my wand,” Silas scoffed, brushing away her concern.
Shiloh reached out and took his hand. “Truly, Silas. It’s good to see you looking like your old self again. Please don’t risk your recovery.” It felt strange for her, to be the healthy one for once.
Silas softened in the face of her affection. “As you wish, little bird.”
“And this priest who attacked us? What progress there? Was he put up to it by the same one who suggested to Zenn that he kill you?” Shiloh asked.
Silas heaved a sigh. “I suspect so, but I am not certain. He is a difficult nut to crack. He said that he was trying to kill me, not you. Claimed he was in the Citadel when you liberated it, but we don’t have any of Fenroh’s records to verify that. After that, he clammed up. Jonn told me I’d better give him some time before we hurt him again.”
“Hmm.” A bell rang off the hour, and Shiloh squared her shoulders. “I’d best get to my sitting room. The dressmaker is coming for the final fitting on my Solstice gown.” She gave him a longsuffering look.
“I noticed you didn’t ask about the preparations for the ball,” Silas teased. “The other queens I’ve served would have gone on about nothing else.”
Shiloh rolled her eyes. “Am I much like the other queens you’ve served? Besides, we just had the coronation. I’m all out of interest in parties.”
“How about gifts? Are you out of interest in gifts?” Silas asked with a mischievous smile.
Shiloh cocked her head to the side. “What are you up to, Silas Hatch?”
He grinned. “You’re just going to have to wait until Solstice to find out.”
***
“And how does this morning find her grace?” Silas asked with a wink.
“Cranky,” Shiloh complained. “Can we go back to sleeping in tents?”
Shiloh sat at the desk in her newly refurbished study at Greenhill Palace. Grateful as she was to be under a roof and between solid walls after months of war, adjusting to her new life as the queen of Bryn was proving even more difficult than she had feared. It was but a few days after her coronation, and it was time to settle into a proper routine after all of the excitement. And yet, that routine already chafed.
“Is it really as bad as all that?” Silas replied, lips twitching. Standing, mostly free from his wheelchair these days, he towered over his diminutive wife and sovereign. “I’m still rather enjoying having a real bed myself.”
“You don’t get woken up by five ladies in waiting who then proceed to take at least an hour to get you dressed,” she groused. “I still don’t see why Jane can’t help me.”
“It is an honor to dress the queen,” Silas explained, “and to delegate that task to a common maid would insult the families of the highest-ranking ladies in waiting.”
“I think they resent it anyway, dressing the likes of me,” she replied, her voice conveying more hurt than she had realized she felt. “They always look like they’re smelling spoiled milk. Save Penny, obviously.”
Silas clenched his jaw. “Is that so? Perhaps someone ought to have a word with them.”
Shiloh smiled. “Going to drag them to the top of the High Tower, are you? I thought you were worried about angering their families.”
Silas snorted. “No, I thought, perhaps, we should have Queen Penn take the ladies in hand. Handling them would be an appropriate and helpful task for her. I know you have no interest in spending your time and energy on wrangling them.”
“Sounds like a reasonable plan,” Shiloh agreed. “I have thought of something for them to do with their time. Do you suppose they would enjoy planning for the decoration of the Dark Tower, now that the glass windows are going in?”
Silas smiled. “Yes, I think they would find that properly diverting. We’ll give them a budget. I’ll set it low, as they will inevitable ignore it.”
“Splendid. What’s next on your list?”
“Correspondence. The Emperor of Vree invites you to visit his capital. I assume you want to graciously decline?”
Shiloh cocked her head to one side. “This would be in the summer?”
“I assume so. Journeying north in winter does not strike me as an enjoyable outing, and we have not been long at home. You want to go, your grace?”
“Silas, we’re alone. Can you please cease with the ‘your grace’ nonsense?”
“Forgive me, little bird. You wish to visit Vree?” he asked, bowing an apology in his chair.
“Well, it is supposed to be beautiful, is it not?”
“Oh, yes,” Silas replied. “The capital, Duvale, is remarkable. A city in the trees, shrouded in mist.” He eyed her closely. “What else are you thinking, little bird? I suspect this is not simply a sudden yearning to play tourist.”
“I am thinking than an alliance might be prudent, given Gerne’s perpetual troublesomeness. Perhaps Estany would also be interested in such an arrangement.”
Silas grinned. “Perhaps Queen Shiloh wishes to fire a shot across Fenroh’s bow?”
A smile snuck across Shiloh’s face. “Maybe a little.” Her hatred for the man who had taken over the church had not diminished in the months since their last encounter.
“Why don’t I have both ambassadors pay us a visit later this week? We can discuss it over tea, like civilized people.”
“Perfect. What else to report?”
“Our men are shipping Westan down here, and I’ll start in on him. It’s possible he managed to communicate with the boy while we were at Castle Redwood. His trial is to begin in a month, so he needs to be here anyway.”
“Splendid,” Shiloh replied. She looked as though she’d bitten a lemon.
“Better to get it over with. Your first execution. Such a special moment in the life of a monarch,” Silas joked.
“It isn’t funny,” Shiloh shot back.
“It’s a little funny. And at least we know he has it coming.”
Shiloh could not argue there. Westan, once king via his marriage, had tried to burn down the City before he fled in the face of Shiloh’s troops.
“Don’t wear yourself out on the likes of Westan,” she cautioned. Her brows drew together. “I don’t want you making yourself sick.”
“The day I can’t handle Westan without breaking a sweat is the day I hang up my wand,” Silas scoffed, brushing away her concern.
Shiloh reached out and took his hand. “Truly, Silas. It’s good to see you looking like your old self again. Please don’t risk your recovery.” It felt strange for her, to be the healthy one for once.
Silas softened in the face of her affection. “As you wish, little bird.”
“And this priest who attacked us? What progress there? Was he put up to it by the same one who suggested to Zenn that he kill you?” Shiloh asked.
Silas heaved a sigh. “I suspect so, but I am not certain. He is a difficult nut to crack. He said that he was trying to kill me, not you. Claimed he was in the Citadel when you liberated it, but we don’t have any of Fenroh’s records to verify that. After that, he clammed up. Jonn told me I’d better give him some time before we hurt him again.”
“Hmm.” A bell rang off the hour, and Shiloh squared her shoulders. “I’d best get to my sitting room. The dressmaker is coming for the final fitting on my Solstice gown.” She gave him a longsuffering look.
“I noticed you didn’t ask about the preparations for the ball,” Silas teased. “The other queens I’ve served would have gone on about nothing else.”
Shiloh rolled her eyes. “Am I much like the other queens you’ve served? Besides, we just had the coronation. I’m all out of interest in parties.”
“How about gifts? Are you out of interest in gifts?” Silas asked with a mischievous smile.
Shiloh cocked her head to the side. “What are you up to, Silas Hatch?”
He grinned. “You’re just going to have to wait until Solstice to find out.”
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