Kendra decided to appear in the king’s throne room very early the next day. In early light he could see the bust of himself. He walked quietly up to it and took a closer look. It did not closely resemble him but the portrait linked to the writing on the column meant that there could be no mistake about his description. He read it quietly to himself:
“He is seven foot high,
Is blue of eye,
Is broad of chest,
With sword is best,
His long dark curls,
Look like a girl’s,
He is no good,
For the brotherhood!
Kill him in Cephrasi’s name!”
The rhyme was not good but his height, build, hair colour, eyes and even his prowess with the sword were listed. He touched the hair; it was modelled in a rough way. His hand brushed across the nose. If the king had not given him the bust as a gift he would have smashed it into a thousand pieces. Had the king caught all the assassins before they could plot against him anew? Should he just trust in Danen and Puleyn’s protection? Now Cephrasi was dead what would his father do in revenge?
As he pondered the king entered. “Kendra, you are up early. I have not seen you since you first saw this bust,” said the king.
YOU ARE READING
Kendra
FantasyDark he was and olive eyed. Fierce as the sun and white as the moon. He led an army of 10,000 men all trained in the arts of war. He lived in the Bosom of Abraham with his wife and children, but warred upon the earth to satiate his battle lust and n...
