A Song for Orphans. Морган Райс
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along in their wake. “You mustn’t disturb your father.”
But I want Daddy, Kate sent over to Sophia. I want to play soldiers.
We could find Mother, Sophia sent back. She could tell us a story.
Sophia loved listening to old stories told in that beautiful, peaceful-sounding voice: Bren and the Giant, The Seven Sisters of the Island; it seemed that their mother knew more stories than there were stars in the sky, telling them about all the old creatures of magic that were now so rare they barely touched the world.
They laughed again and ran on, a conversation only they could hear whispering between them. They ran and hid, playing hide and seek while men and women brought in barrels and boxes and chests and sacks. They didn’t talk about the possibility of a siege, but Sophia knew anyway. She and Kate always knew.
In spite of Anora’s words, she found Kate heading toward her father’s study. Sophia followed, and now she could hear her father arguing with a man who looked too much like Sebastian for it to be a coincidence. She frowned, wondering who Sebastian was, and why it should matter.
“I told you, Henry, I have no interest in your throne, whatever your spies say.”
“But you still side with the rebels.”
“Agreeing that there should be some kind of assembly is not the same thing as fighting against you.”
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