The Last Strange Kings
book 2
This was the precise moment The Powers chose to forever alter King’s Son, for in his mind he heard a girl’s voice, clear as though she sat by his elbow. “Who are you?”
Dalich stopped midbite and hastily glanced about. “What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of lunch. His mother shifted in her seat but did not glance in his direction.
“I don’t know who you are or why I can hear you,” said the voice.
Swallowing, the lad cautiously peeked under the table, discovering nothing but a fork embedded in the wood, which normally would have been quite a discovery but did nothing to aid his search for the source of the voice. “Who are you? Where are you hiding?” he ventured, quietly as he could.
“I’m not hiding, I’m just lying here in the grass looking at the sky, and then I could taste that wonderful chicken, and—oh!”
“What?” King’s Son whispered, raising his head to scan his father’s Great Hall, certain she hid behind a stout column or thick tapestry.
“Your house is so big!” The surprise in her voice sounded genuine.
“You can see what I see?”
“I . . . I just closed my eyes, and I see long tables and a big woman. Who are you?”
“King’s Son.”
“Kingson! Your name is strange. My sisters are calling me, I must go.”
“Go where? Wait! Who are you?” He did not care that he spoke in a normal tone of voice. But she did not reply.
