Who thought being the son of two great war generals, the bastard daughter of a King, or the future Queen would be easy? Action, humor, romance, and a wily assassin all await inside of this new story.
Gavin Rutherford dreamed of one thing - becomi...
She could tell when her dad was at the super grumbling stage. Oddly, not a lot of people could. It wasn't that he was great at putting up a front like Rosie and pretending he was happy. He just didn't give the same 'I'm sick of your shit and want you all to go away' signs as most people. His cross comebacks seemed more like bitter jokes, most landing hard on the ground, not that he ever cared when he was in that bad of a mood.
"Hey," Myra began, staring into the darkened study where her dad recused himself to. That was exactly how he put it. Stood up in the middle of dinner after glaring at his first born for a good twenty minutes in between courses, shouted "I recuse myself," and then booked it to the first empty room he could find.
Alistair twisted the chair around a bit, his head lolling to the side until he spotted his youngest clogging up the doorway. "Wheaters," he called, Myra promptly rolling her eyes at the nickname that would never die. "What are you doing here?"
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"Oh, ya know, dinner was getting dull. They didn't even set the cake on fire. What's the point of making a fancy cake if you don't then set it on fire?"
She expected him to laugh or add on his own string of terrible ideas to liven the solemn party up, but her dad faded into himself. Maker's sake, how did it land on her to try and cheer him up? She was so bad at this stuff, usually talking nonstop to people until they either faked a smile or ran away screaming.
"You wanna sit with me, kiddo?" he turned his head over at her and then gestured to an old divan with a stuffed crocodile of all things stretched upon the cushions. Myra glanced over at her father in confusion at the reptile's appearance, only to understand how it got there with a King's assistance.
With a shrug, Myra slid into the dampened room. She plucked up the crocodile that was at most four feet long from snout to tail, then plopped down to the cushions and placed the lizard on her lap. While her dad stared into the fire, Myra began to smooth her fingers over the glued on scales, absently rubbing the thing as if it was a pet that fell asleep.
"Dad...?"
"How was your trip?" he interrupted her quickly, turning in the chair.
Was? Oh boy. She knew he hadn't talked to Rosie yet, the Princess still out there playing hostess or whatever she did best. But the grit in the pretty girl's jaw and the way she kept flexing her biceps as if looking for a fight was all Myra needed to know. Things were not going to end well for anyone tonight.
"Not bad. We got to that lake, the north one outside of Highever. Oh, and Bryn and I saw a frog as big as our heads. We tried to take it with us, but...turns out frogs don't really like living inside crates holding handmaiden's silken dresses."
Her dad snorted at that. No doubt he should be chastising her with a "Now Myra, we need to respect other peoples things and not leave amphibians inside of them," but he let it sail on past. With a slow hand, he took a pull from the mug beside his chair. She didn't know what it was, but the fumes were strong enough to warp the air around the girl on the couch. It could probably strip paint.
