Page 35 of Crownless King

He shoved his chair away from the table, then yanked me onto his lap. Drawing me close, he rested his chin on my shoulder.

I threaded my fingers through the hair over his temple.

“I’m so sorry, Voron.”

He drew in a breath and nodded.

“Let’s read more,” he said, sounding somber but resolved.

“Are you sure?” I pressed the side of my face to his, hugging his neck. “I can read it alone, then tell you what happens.”

He lifted his head from my shoulder. “No. I need to see it.”

The image of the bearded man dissolved slowly.

“Who was it?” I asked again.

“King Herane, Tiane’s father. I didn’t know he was there. I didn’t see him that day.”

No wonder he didn’t. The guards were already hauling him out of the room, kicking and screaming, by the time King Herane appeared.

Why was he there? What was so important about the young wingless boy and his mother that the king personally needed to see them gone?

“Let’s see this from the very beginning, then, shall we?” I flipped the book to the very end, to the very first record.

It was supposed to be the records of Vensari, but it clearly appeared to be the chronicles of Voron’s life. And as such, the book had to begin with his birth.

Sure enough, as I flipped the page, the image of a pregnant woman appeared. Her wings were open wide, moving strongly as she hovered high above the clouds. Only it wasn’t Mulena, the woman who’d given Voron the ring before being dragged away by the guards. The woman Voron called his mother was there, too, however. She hovered in front and slightly to the side of the pregnant woman and was holding a long piece of silk draped over her arms.

At least two dozen other highborn flocked around them. Dressed in fine outfits and dripping with gold and gemstones, they soared around and chatted animatedly, adding excitement and commotion to the scene.

Behind the pregnant woman, King Herane loomed, his black wings shading her. She arched her back with a moan and threw her arms over her belly. She was clearly in labor.

“Whose birth is it?” I asked Voron.

His forehead creased in concentration.

“I’m not sure.”

“Who is the pregnant lady?”

“King Herane’s wife, the queen and Tiane’s mother.”

The queen’s features pinched with tension. She groaned, then released a long, wailing scream.

The courtiers flew around even more agitatedly. Someone produced a stringed musical instrument and started playing it, the music drowning out the screams of labor.

The queen bent over, gripping her round belly with both arms.

A man in a long golden robe of a priest flew around her, reading from a scroll, “On this day, a great king will be born. The king, who will lead the Sky Kingdom to glory and prosperity. He will unite the High Lords, bring peace to our lands, and will make us whole. But only as long as he is whole himself. Hail to the king!” the man shouted, waving the scroll in his hands.

Somehow, in all this commotion through the cacophony of noises, the thin wail of a newborn was heard. It pierced the air fiercely, demanding attention.

A head with wet, dark hair appeared between the pearl-gray thighs of the queen.

The court rejoiced. Mulena eagerly opened her arms, stretching the cloth she held between them.

Then, the baby fell.

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