foot—does it pain you?”
She summoned a smile. “It feels better, thank you.” She tried again to pull away, but his fingers on her arm tightened again, biting into her muscle. Unwilling to create a scene, she went still. “I really should join my brother.”
“You look beautiful by torchlight.”
She said nothing, but at the beauty of his slow smile could not slow the rapid rise and fall of her chest. His gaze traveled over her and then onward to Kai, who laughed with Craelin, oblivious of her plight.
The pressure on her arm eased. “Go to your brother if you must, but mark you, our conversation has just begun.”
She fled from him, her face warm. Kai hailed her, drew her to his side, and presented her to the five guardians at the table. Breathless and grateful that speech was not necessary, she smiled and inclined her head to each in turn.
Kai seated Shae beside him, but ignored her as he entered into a discussion of marksmanship. Servants brought platters of venison with roasted onion, winterberry sauce, creamed yellowroot, an unfamiliar green vegetable and dainty blue crobok eggs. Kai tackled his food with appetite, but Shae picked at hers. After the encounter with Freaer, her stomach churned.
The cup of cider warmed her hand as she sipped from it, and she let the babble lull her, content to watch Kai consume the last of the honey cakes.
The torches flared with sudden zeal to brighten all but the upper reaches of the cavernous hall. They wavered and dimmed to bring an uncertain half-light. A storm built outside, it seemed. Kai’s discussion progressed from hunting to the taming and handling of wingabeasts.
Shae hid a smile and gazed at the animated faces about her, careful to keep her gaze averted from Freaer. She couldn’t shut out the sound of his voice, though, and it threaded through many voices to find her. His laugh rang out, and without thought, she turned her head toward him. She recognized her mistake too late, for his gaze waited to capture hers.
She pressed a hand to her brow, surprised she had no fever. What madness assailed her? The harder she tried to ignore Freaer, the more she noticed him. When he reached for his cup, she caught the movement. When he laughed, she heard it. The gleam of torchlight gilding his hair did not escape her. Worse, he seemed to sense—even revel in—her attention.
“What’s wrong?” Kai asked at her sigh. “You seem flushed.”
She avoided his light, probing gaze. How could she explain what she did not understand? “It’s nothing.”
He touched her forehead. “Are you fevered?”
She shook her head.
He looked her full in the face. “What then?”
“Please, it’s nothing.” But she couldn’t keep from glancing past him to Freaer
“ I see. ” With a nod to Freaer, who raised his cup in mock salute, Kai turned back to her. “Does he trouble you?”
She looked at her hands, which clasped one another in her lap. “What do you mean?”
“Only that you’re—unsettled. Is your discomfort about Lof Raelein Maeven’s death song or something more?”
“The death song?” In truth, she’d all but forgotten it. “Freaer wants me to sing it.”
His brows lifted. “You’ve spoken to him? What did he say?”
“Little.” She remembered the way Freaer had studied the flames in the fireplace while she questioned him. He looked anything but pensive now. Laughing as he jumped to his feet and took up his lute, he bounded to the minstrel’s gallery and joined in a rousing chorus of “Lof Shraen Timraen’s Glory.”
“ Risen son of Rivenn’s sons,
Lof Shraen while still a youth,
Timraen spent his time in prayer—
Seeking wisdom, guidance, and truth.
“He shared his bread, gave his gold,
Listened to the downtrodden,
Comforted the overcome,
Called every Elder friend.
“None could find a mark so true,
Nor wield a sword as well,
Yet the strength he found in mercy,
No other shraen can tell.”
“When garns
She summoned a smile. “It feels better, thank you.” She tried again to pull away, but his fingers on her arm tightened again, biting into her muscle. Unwilling to create a scene, she went still. “I really should join my brother.”
“You look beautiful by torchlight.”
She said nothing, but at the beauty of his slow smile could not slow the rapid rise and fall of her chest. His gaze traveled over her and then onward to Kai, who laughed with Craelin, oblivious of her plight.
The pressure on her arm eased. “Go to your brother if you must, but mark you, our conversation has just begun.”
She fled from him, her face warm. Kai hailed her, drew her to his side, and presented her to the five guardians at the table. Breathless and grateful that speech was not necessary, she smiled and inclined her head to each in turn.
Kai seated Shae beside him, but ignored her as he entered into a discussion of marksmanship. Servants brought platters of venison with roasted onion, winterberry sauce, creamed yellowroot, an unfamiliar green vegetable and dainty blue crobok eggs. Kai tackled his food with appetite, but Shae picked at hers. After the encounter with Freaer, her stomach churned.
The cup of cider warmed her hand as she sipped from it, and she let the babble lull her, content to watch Kai consume the last of the honey cakes.
The torches flared with sudden zeal to brighten all but the upper reaches of the cavernous hall. They wavered and dimmed to bring an uncertain half-light. A storm built outside, it seemed. Kai’s discussion progressed from hunting to the taming and handling of wingabeasts.
Shae hid a smile and gazed at the animated faces about her, careful to keep her gaze averted from Freaer. She couldn’t shut out the sound of his voice, though, and it threaded through many voices to find her. His laugh rang out, and without thought, she turned her head toward him. She recognized her mistake too late, for his gaze waited to capture hers.
She pressed a hand to her brow, surprised she had no fever. What madness assailed her? The harder she tried to ignore Freaer, the more she noticed him. When he reached for his cup, she caught the movement. When he laughed, she heard it. The gleam of torchlight gilding his hair did not escape her. Worse, he seemed to sense—even revel in—her attention.
“What’s wrong?” Kai asked at her sigh. “You seem flushed.”
She avoided his light, probing gaze. How could she explain what she did not understand? “It’s nothing.”
He touched her forehead. “Are you fevered?”
She shook her head.
He looked her full in the face. “What then?”
“Please, it’s nothing.” But she couldn’t keep from glancing past him to Freaer
“ I see. ” With a nod to Freaer, who raised his cup in mock salute, Kai turned back to her. “Does he trouble you?”
She looked at her hands, which clasped one another in her lap. “What do you mean?”
“Only that you’re—unsettled. Is your discomfort about Lof Raelein Maeven’s death song or something more?”
“The death song?” In truth, she’d all but forgotten it. “Freaer wants me to sing it.”
His brows lifted. “You’ve spoken to him? What did he say?”
“Little.” She remembered the way Freaer had studied the flames in the fireplace while she questioned him. He looked anything but pensive now. Laughing as he jumped to his feet and took up his lute, he bounded to the minstrel’s gallery and joined in a rousing chorus of “Lof Shraen Timraen’s Glory.”
“ Risen son of Rivenn’s sons,
Lof Shraen while still a youth,
Timraen spent his time in prayer—
Seeking wisdom, guidance, and truth.
“He shared his bread, gave his gold,
Listened to the downtrodden,
Comforted the overcome,
Called every Elder friend.
“None could find a mark so true,
Nor wield a sword as well,
Yet the strength he found in mercy,
No other shraen can tell.”
“When garns
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