By Tonke Dragt
The exciting tale of 1 boy's conflict opposed to evil set in an enchanted global of chivalry, braveness, and real friendship
Sixteen-year-old Tiuri needs to spend hours locked in a chapel in silent contemplation if he's to be knighted the following day. yet as he waits by means of the sunshine of a flickering candle, he hears a knock on the door and a voice desperately requesting help.
A mystery letter has to be brought to King Unauwen around the nice Mountains--a letter upon which the destiny of the complete country relies. Tiuri has an important function to play, one who may cost a little him his knighthood. He needs to belief nobody. He needs to maintain his real id mystery. notably, he must not ever show what's within the letter . . .
Tiuri's trip will take him via darkish, menacing forests, throughout treacherous rivers, to sinister castles and unusual towns. he'll come across evil enemies who could kill to get the letter, but additionally the simplest of acquaintances within the such a lot unforeseen areas.
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Additional info for The Letter for the King
It had taken her years to worm her way into Little Hyssop’s good graces, and she didn’t have the patience now for the subterfuge. But the most troublesome aspect was if Deb contacted her—or even, miracle of miracles, returned the bloody necklace—she wouldn’t know it. She might be on the run for the next six months. The candle wavered as she heaved a sigh. She would think better on a full stomach. But when she reached the top of the steps that led down to the kitchen, she nearly tumbled straight down when she heard the laughter.
He bent over and began to lick the raspberries and whipped cream from her belly. She tried to lie still—she did, really, but when the tip of his tongue circled her navel, then dipped in, she jumped. Apparently finished with her stomach, he scooped more from the bowl and rubbed a dollop of pink on one nipple, then stood back to admire his handiwork. “This is outrageous! ” “I quite agree. ” He decorated the other breast as well, heaping a mound of raspberry-streaked cream on her aureole. Charlotte knew her nipples were stiff with cold and decadence.
That’s the hole in their grand security scheme. As if men can control themselves and their tallywags until dark. Of course, most of the Janes respect the gentlemen who’ve set them up here and don’t dally unless that’s what their gentlemen want them to do so they can watch. ” Mrs. Kelly put the tart down on a linen napkin. “I suppose I can’t really blame her. She saw her chance to catch a husband. Lord knows, Sir Michael might never marry again, and he’s sure not to marry a whore. ” Bread stuck in Charlotte’s throat.