9

Worth of a Mist Mare

Pounding on the door entered his numbed mind. “The banquet is prepared you’re summoned in the name of the king.” A servant bellowed through the layers of wood.

Bloody hell. It was apparent the knock was what had woken him.

Knock. That’s a loose word for it. The servant’s thudding had rattled the door.

Sighing, Zier rose and straightened his tunic, pulling his boots back on and running a hand through his yellow hair to push wet blonde strands from his face. Blinking blearily.

True to his word Eben had laid out a huge banquet in their honor.

“I’ve caught nothing yet!” Zier reminded the King.

“I’ll hear none of it!” He put up a halting hand. “Sit.” He pointed to the line of chairs across from him.

Only Zier sat aside the king. And Captain Dorin on the other. In the honored seats next to the king.

Trenchers of glazed vegetables, fish and chicken intermingled with the aromas of bread and fresh cut flowers.

What I wouldn’t have given for this when I was starving on the