Shards of a Broken Crown (Serpentwar Book 4)

Jimmy’s expression brightened. “I know! Let’s go see Nakor!”

 

 

For lack of any better suggestion, Dash agreed. The two brothers left the tavern, and Dash kept one hand on Jimmy’s arm, half-guiding, half-supporting as he stumbled along.

 

 

 

 

 

Jimmy groaned. His head pounded and his eyes felt as if they were glued shut. His mouth tasted as if someone had tossed in table scraps a week earlier and left them to ripen.

 

“Would you like some water?”

 

Jimmy forced his eyes open and instantly wished he hadn’t, as the pounding in his head increased in intensity. Hovering over him was a woman’s face, and as his eyes focused, he saw the rest of her swim into shape. He lifted his head and got his right arm under himself and reached out with his left hand.

 

She placed a water cup in it and he drank. Suddenly he knew it was a bad idea: his heart began to thunder and his skin flushed, and perspiration began to bead on his brow. He knew he was experiencing the worst hangover of his life, and eventually the water would be necessary, so he forced himself to drain the cup. “Thanks,” he said in a hoarse whisper, handing the cup back.

 

“Your brother’s in there,” she said, pointing to the office Nakor used as his personal quarters when staying at the temple.

 

“Do I know you?” croaked Jimmy.

 

“I don’t think so,” said the young woman, with a faint smile. “I know you, however. You’re the Duke—the old Duke’s grandson, aren’t you?”

 

Jimmy nodded. “James, son of Duke Arutha, and yes, Lord James was my grandfather. They call me Jimmy.”

 

“You can call me Aleta.” She studied his face. “A woman?”

 

He nodded. “I guess.”

 

Glancing him over, she observed, “Well, you’re not much to look at now, but I’ve seen you in a couple of the taverns I’ve worked, and when you’re not drunk or hung over, you’re not a bad-looking fellow. I don’t expect you hear ‘no’ very often.”

 

“It’s not that,” he said, rising slowly. “I just found out she’s marrying someone else.”

 

“Ah,” said Aleta, as if she understood. “Does she know?”

 

“What?”

 

“That you’re killing yourself with ale over her?”

 

“No. We were friends as children . . .” He squinted at her. “Why am I telling you this?”

 

She smiled. “Because you need to?”

 

He took another drink of water. “Thank you. I think I’ll see what my brother is doing.”

 

He walked on shaky legs through a warehouse bustling with activity. When he was almost to the door of Nakor’s office, the large outer doors to the warehouse swung open and filled it with light. Jimmy turned to see a wagon being driven up to and then into the entrance, with other wagons behind it.

 

The door to the office opened behind Jimmy, and Nakor came rushing out. “Roo!” he shouted as he passed Jimmy. “You’re here with the food!”

 

Dash followed and stopped next to his brother. “Are you alive?”

 

“Barely,” croaked Jimmy. “What happened?”

 

“You attempted to drown yourself in ale. You failed.”

 

“I know, but how did we get here?”

 

“Father sent me after you and told me to get you drunk and in the arms of a tavern wench.”

 

“Seems you succeeded with half the order.”

 

“Well, there were a couple of ladies willing to accommodate, but you seemed in no mood.”

 

“I’m a mess,” said Jimmy. “I don’t really know how I feel about all this.”

 

Dash shrugged. “Maybe that’s the best. We’ve both known since childhood we were to have no say in who we wed. With Father being Duke of Krondor, it’s too important we wed for the good of the state.”

 

“I know, but I feel so . . .”

 

“What?”

 

Jimmy sighed. “I don’t know.”

 

“It isn’t about Francie, you know,” said Dash.

 

“No?”

 

“No,” said Dash. “If she’s the Queen there’s nothing to keep the two of you apart; the Gods know the court is well practiced in looking the other way. No, it’s something else. It’s about you and what you really want.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“I don’t think I do, really, but it’s about you.” He looked at the wagon. “I still half expect to see Jason on one of those wagons,” Dash said reflectively.

 

Jason had been an employee of Rupert’s Bitter Sea Company when Dash had served there, and had been feeding information to Rupert’s rival, Jacob Esterbrook, because of his misguided love for Jacob’s daughter. He had died in the war.

 

As the first wagon entered the warehouse, Jimmy said, “Tell me, who’s that girl?”

 

“Which one?” Dash asked.

 

“That one over there, who gave me water. She said her name was Aleta.”

 

“Then you know more of her than I,” said Dash. “Why don’t you ask Nakor.”

 

“There’s something odd about her. Nice, but odd.”

 

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