Rebel's Cage (Book 4) Read Online Free

well over the years.
    As Proctor of the Guilde, Osbert’s place at such events as this was unarguable. Godfrey, however, had won his by sheer determination. With Bishop Brome in frequent ill health, Godfrey was more and more often requested to stand in his place. Without doubt, Godfrey lent any occasion far more dignity than his superior ever could.
    Lean and strong, Godfrey’s long face was framed with dark hair which showed little of the passing years, his tonsure still proudly shaved. He, unlike everyone else here, wore only the simplest of habits, black robes lightened by the silver stole draped around his neck, urged upon him by the Bishop himself.
    On his better days, Osbert allowed that he and Godfrey had become friends through trials shared and survived. On his worst, he could only admit that they had formed the oddest of alliances, the rules of which had never been spoken aloud.
    The only thing he could say for certain was that he trusted this man more than any other at court, even though he suspected the friends Godfrey had would not bear too much scrutiny.
    On the other hand, with a King who openly practised sorcery, who was to say Godfrey’s friends were so bad?
    ‘How long do you think they will bargain?’ Godfrey stepped closer, keeping his voice low.
    Osbert paused before replying, listening in to the exchanges between Kenrick and Ogiers, words about grain shipments, imports of cloth and wool. Even to his ears, the demands appeared hopelessly high, which, of course, would go some way to explaining the darkening expression on the young King’s face.
    ‘I don’t know,’ he replied softly, ‘I understand Ogiers himself is not agreeable to the match. Kenrick will have to convince him before he can convince the girl’s father.’
    ‘Tirone is afraid of Kenrick.’
    Osbert paused, glanced at Godfrey and let out a long breath. ‘Yes, he is. Along with just about everybody else in this country. But Tirone is King of Mayenne and he’s lost two of his three sons over the last few years. If he should lose the third, then he will need a strong alliance with Kenrick or Mayenne will be overrun, and alliance means marriage between Kenrick and Olivia.’
    ‘She is a child of twelve! They are cousins,’ Godfrey hissed with thinly veiled contempt. ‘It is not right that Brome should consent …’
    As Godfrey pulled up, Osbert had to suppress a smile. Godfrey had worked his way up to the highest echelons of the Church by virtue of his honesty, integrity and obvious intelligence. He had survived this long because he had an uncanny ability to keep his often outspoken opinions largely to himself. But every now and then, one would slip out.
    ‘If you were in Brome’s place,’ Osbert replied, not ungently, ‘would you have refused Kenrick his request for a dispensation?’
    Godfrey didn’t reply, leaving Osbert to return his attention to the long table set out before him, sitting on a thick woollen rug from Alusia. Ogiers sat at the opposite end, his secretary and lieutenants a step behind him. Ogiers was certainly a man equal to the task at hand. Lusara and Mayenne had been at odds for twenty-five years. It took a great deal of courage to travel across a land so openly hostile to meet a King whosefather had once tried to kill you. But Ogiers was Tirone’s man, loyal to the end. His skills at negotiating were renowned throughout the northern continent; Kenrick was not finding it so easy going.
    At twenty-two, Kenrick was every inch his father’s son. Tall, fair-haired, broad-shouldered, with a nasty scar on the left side of his face that had never been explained. Clever in a devious way, determined and wholly self-absorbed. He ruled Lusara with an almost vengeful hatred, giving nothing and taking everything. In so many ways, he made his father, the conqueror, appear soft and benign in comparison – a bizarre concept to any who had known Selar. Kenrick pursued his ambitions without appearing to have any idea