The Lost Tales

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The Lost Tales Page 7

by Laurel A. Rockefeller

“His Majesty calls into his court, Lady Healer Cara, Abbess of Ten-Ar,” cried the herald, five beinors later. On the royal throne, the tall and black haired King Gareth lounged expectantly, the Beinarian ruby and diamond heraldic Gurun crown light on his head.

  Lady Healer Gwyneth approached his throne instead with a deep bow. King Gareth rose sternly, “Where is the abbess of Ten-Ar, healer?”

  “She is gone,” said Gwyneth simply.

  Gareth’s grey eyes burned fiercely, “Where?”

  “Nan-li Central Healing Center, Your Majesty. After leaving Your Majesty’s presence she received a dire report from the Ten-Arian monastery summoning her there.”

  “She dared?”

  Gwyneth raised her eyes, meeting the king’s, “With all due respect, Your Majesty, she is neither your wife nor your declared intended bride. Without such, a healer’s priority lays first with her house, then to you, Sire. Of course, if Your Majesty were to proclaim her as yours, she would be recalled in order to pursue other duties.”

  “Very well then. Hear me, Peers of Beinan: I declare Lady Abbess Cara, Abbess of house Ten-Ar to be my betrothed. Here, in this throne room I shall wed her in twenty beinors, that being beinor 175 of yen-ar 5545 of the Beinarian Era.

 

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