Read Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four for Free Online Page A

to the soon-to-be king, it would be as though Elot's claims had never existed.
    They had ridden a short distance further when Sir Teale returned at a gallop, silver armour shining in the sun.
    “Highness,” he said, with a nod to her in the saddle. “I bring word from your husband, the Regent. He is aware of your concern, and wishes that you ride to see this town in person.”
    Sofy blinked at him in surprise. A glance at the ladies of her party showed them similarly surprised, and some scowling.
    “But of course, Sir Teale!” Sofy exclaimed. “Let us go at once! Lord Elot, would you join us? I would appreciate your insight.”
    “An honour, Princess,” said Elot.
    The ride to the town was a short canter across ploughed fields and men-at-arms stood ready at open gates. Even as Sofy marvelled at the beauty of the countryside, she spotted gleams of armour from amidst the trees, and the shuffling movement of horses. Her path was guarded, with some preparation. What was her husband's game?
    By a little stream that meandered between fields and forest nestled a small village of stone walls and red tile. There was a barn afire in a nearby field, the source of the smoke. Cavalrymen milled in the fields, and watched as the princess approached.
    “The rebels put the barn to fire rather than allow us the fodder within,” Sir Teale explained. “The town itself is utterly deserted. The rebels spread lies of our intentions, and many flee in fear. Many shall die of exhaustion upon the road who would have lived, had they stayed and not believed the lies.”
    Sofy reined to a halt near the town walls and dismounted before Sir Teale or the waiting men-at-arms could assist. She walked quickly past sties and pens to a narrow alley through the village centre. All was quite clean, she noted. Small villages in Lenayin were always dirty, not that Lenay folk were unclean, but more that the Lenay hills were rugged, with winds and rain that washed mud and dirt onto all paths after a time.
    She peered into an open doorway and found a neat little space within, with simple furnishings, a floor rug, and a stone oven. All seemed in order save for empty spaces on the wall hooks where pots and pans would typically hang. Those were a common farmer's more valuable possessions, those and livestock. Probably they'd have taken them on the road, piled onto some cart or mule.
    Sofy hurried further along the lane, looking into other cottages, and finding things much the same. Soldiers followed her, and all these cottages had been searched in advance, she was certain. The absence of blood and fire relieved her, and yet, the scene had the feel of a show.
    She arrived in a central courtyard, where a small, pretty temple was fronted by a well, and green creepers smothered the walls. Sofy admired the well, which had a small statue atop a pagoda roof, erected to keep leaves and bird droppings from falling in. The statue was of a naked lady, her long hair in one hand, a water jug in the other. It looked like Cliamene, Verenthane goddess of fertility…only this lady was far more sensuously carved than Sofy had seen, with bare breasts and one suggestive hip. And her face and eyes seemed…could she be serrin?
    Lord Elot, she realised, had entered the temple. Sofy scampered to follow him, holding her skirts to clear the rough paving steps to the door.
    The space within was larger than it seemed from the outside, perhaps large enough for sixty or seventy people at a very tight squeeze. Small, high windows let in the light, and there was even a circle of coloured glass in the wall above the altar. Lord Elot stood in the middle of the aisle, hands on hips, and gazed up at that window. It showed the Verenthane gods and angels, in remarkable detail.
    “What craftsmanship,” Sofy said admiringly, coming to Lord Elot's side in the gentle hush of the temple. “For such a little village.”
    “Serrin made,” said Lord Elot, in a low voice. They were alone in the temple,