Inheritance by Simon Brown Page A

you?” Usharna asked solicitously.
    “How old, your Majesty? Let me see. I would be over forty. Yes, I would own to that.” He smiled at the queen.
    “Shall we say forty-five?”
    Protas considered the number for a moment and nodded. “Close enough.”
    “Then you would have been thirty when the Slaver War ended.”
    Everyone watched Protas do the math in his head. After a long pause he nodded again. “Yes, your Majesty, that’s about right.”
    “With what regiment did you fight?”
    Where there was silence before, there was now a dread and expectant hush.
    “Umm, no regiment, your Majesty. I had onerous duties to perform under my father, the late duke.”
    “Tending the vineyards in your estates in Chandra?”
    “My father’s estates, your Majesty. Well, mine now, of course—”
    “So while men of Kendra such as Captain Parmer over there risked their lives in ridding Grenda Lear of the vile curse of slavery, you watched grapes grow?”
    Protas blinked and the color drained from his face. Even he realized his patriotism and manliness had just been brought publicly into question by his queen. He felt the mixed emotions of shame and rage. He opened his mouth to curse the woman, but something in the look of the crookback Captain Parmer—who now stared at him directly—and the restraining hand of Duke Amptra on his arm, told him to leave well enough alone. He had been ambushed. In shock, he settled back in his seat and bowed his head.
    Usharna turned again to Prince Sendarus and, as if on cue, everyone else resumed their conversations as well.
    Ager, staring straight ahead again, could not help swelling his chest just that extra bit further, filling up his blue guard’s uniform, and almost forgetting he was a crookback at all.
    Sendarus had watched the public humiliation of one of the kingdom’s premier nobles with amazement. His own father, the first among equals among the Amanite aristocracy, would never have dared even to attempt such a thing. In Aman, kings could still be challenged to combat for a personal slight. Apparently, things were different here in Kendra. He wondered whether or not that was a good thing.
    When it was all over, Usharna had turned to him and asked if he enjoyed hunting. For an instant, Sendarus thought she was alluding to her humiliation of the duke, but he gathered his senses in time to reply: “In the mountains around Pila, your Majesty, I often hunt the great bear. I have two heads hanging from the walls of my father’s meeting hall.”
    Usharna was impressed. She realized she had underestimated the strength and skill of this young man. In many ways, in his build, in his manner of speech, and in his readiness to smile, he reminded her of Olio. She decided she liked him. “Did you know that many years ago, in the time of your grandfather, Aman sent several great bear to Kendra. We released them in the woods of the Ebrius Ridge just north of here, and now hunt them ourselves. They provide a greater challenge than the boar and wild dog my ancestors used to hunt.”
    “We could go on a hunt tomorrow!” Areava said excitedly, her brown eyes sparkling.
    Sendarus greeted the idea enthusiastically. The queen agreed, and promised she would arrange a party to accompany them.
    “Your Majesty, do you think it wise to let them hunt at this time of the year?” Orkid asked, clearly concerned. “The great bear is most dangerous at the end of summer when the males are fighting for a sow.”
    “But it is also the most exciting time to hunt the beast!” Areava countered.
    The queen nodded. “Indeed, and I wish I had the strength to come with you. If you are so concerned, Orkid, you can pull yourself away from your duties for a day and accompany them. I know you used to enjoy the sport as much as me.”
    “I will gladly go with them,” Orkid conceded. “But I should warn the prince that hunting the great bear here is different from hunting it back home. In Aman, the beast has learned to