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The WeatherMaker - Prince of Light By Lady Lilium Characters: 5176

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:02


Chapter Ten

Cam woke on his front, and in agony.

He heaved himself up off the floor with a groan, crying, body beginning to tremble as he realised what had been done to him.

He buckled up his belt again, crawling towards the wall and sitting there, curled up in a ball for many minutes.

He touched the spot on his head where he had been struck, feeling a lump there, before withdrawing his hand.

Brioke was long gone, and Cam left the room sometime later, when he felt ready, when he felt safe.

He went back to his own room to tend to his injuries, applying a paste onto his forehead to reduce the swelling, before washing himself and changing into fresh clothes.

It was only midday, but he was just thinking about going to bed to sleep, when there came a knock at his door.

He whipped around, heart hammering in his chest. Cam took a slow and steady breath before speaking.

'Who's there?!'

'I'm just a servant' came a muffled voice through the door.

Cam hesitated, realising the servant was waiting for permission to be allowed to enter.

'Come in' Cam said at last, and the door opened.

'I'm sorry my lord' the timid young lady said, 'but I've been ordered to find you. You are being summoned by the council.'

Cam's heart sunk in his chest.

He waved the servant away, who bowed submissively and scurried off.

The council… Cam thought in his mind. …oh god…

From time to time Cam had been expected to take part in the council meetings, more often now as he matured, as the time grew closer when he was to be crowned king at age nineteen, just two years from now.

Cam felt sick.

He made his way to the council chamber as quickly as he could, not daring to make them wait.

He paused only for a moment, feeling fatigued, his chest hurting as his heart skipped many beats, and feeling a sudden headache coming on.

Cam straightened again, trying his best to ignore these discomforts, he continued on.

The council chamber was many flights down, the meetings always taking place in the same empty hall. And this is was this hall where Cam found himself.

He paused before the doors, taking a deep breath before stepping forwards, opening one of the doors and entering the council chamber, where the others waited for him.

The left and the right hands of the king, once there had been many, now there were just twelve. Seven on the right hand, and five on the left.

The rest had been killed. It was no longer a secret that they had died. Originally, when the king was alive, there had been forty, but only the wisest and mo

st cunning had survived these long years while the rest had perished.

But Brioke had survived. Brioke had lived.

He sat there beside the only empty seat at the table, the seat the prince was to sit; the one just for Cam.

Cam swallowed the lump in his throat, allowing the door to swing shut behind him, and making his way reluctantly over to the chair.

He sat without a word, staring down at his lap.

'You took your time getting here' Castello said to him, leaning forwards on his elbow, addressing the prince. 'Next time I advise you not to keep us all waiting.'

'I'm sorry' Cam replied. 'I came as soon as I could.'

'In any case' Lamont spoke up, 'let's get back to the subject at hand.'

Cam bowed his head further, averting his gaze from all others, as Lamont began to speak.

'We must address the problem of the gypsies.'

'What about them?' Heremon asked.

'They do not follow our religions' Lamont shot back. 'They are wanderers, tricksters, thieves and fortune tellers, the lowest form of vermin. We cannot allow them to pollute our kingdom with their sorcery.'

'But they do follow our religions' Heremon reasoned.

'They follow the religion of whichever area they happen to be passing through at that time' Lamont answered shortly. 'We cannot have people constantly on the move like that, who knows what secrets they are telling our enemy.'

'And which enemy is that?' Rhona smirked in amusement, resting his elbows on the table with his chin in his hands.

'We do not control the kingdom beyond our borders' Tarrant said to him. 'It's not right to allow such treacherous people to come and go as they please, they could be putting our own people in danger. I do not trust those beyond our own lands. Who knows what they might be plotting against us.'

'My dear Tarrant' Agnus chuckled, 'you are too suspicious of people. You don't trust anyone.'

'And that's why I'm still alive when all your friends have died' Tarrant shot back.

'Gentleman!' Storin hollered, before an argument could break out. 'Let's keep our minds focused shall we? Whichever side we sit on we must agree at least that the gypsies are a problem.'

'Why?' Denzil asked. 'They are self sufficient, they stay out of the way when they need to, and many people enjoy their music and dancing, and their women are quite beautiful.'

'They spread false words from false gods because they travel to other lands' Eden said. 'Then they come here and spread their poison.'

'But think of how they might spread word of our religion to other lands' Desmond spoke up.

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