Wind Over Bone: The Estralony Cycle #2 (Young Adult Fantasy Romance) by E. D. Ebeling Page B
Authors: E. D. Ebeling
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rang out like a gong on the floor.
Leva stood up. “You can’t kill us both,” she said. “Look odd, wouldn’t it?” Leva turned to Sarid. “Sisters?”
Two male medics ran through the open door. One pulled Savvel’s arms behind his back and forced him to his knees. The other stopped and stared at the blood soaking through Yelse’s nightshirt. He shut the window and called out of the room for soap and water. Leva backed away, letting it pass without a word. Sarid could see her thinking through the list of who would believe her and who wouldn’t. The latter must’ve been longer: though her jaw worked and her eyes fairly flamed, Leva drew into a corner and kept silent. Other people filled the doorway, woken by the noise, and Sarid heard Rischa’s name whispered among them.
Pash and his wife were there. “Let him go somewhere else. Take him away somewhere,” the countess cried, wiping her eyes with her shirtfront. “No one is safe.”
“ Let me see my brother,” came Rischa’s voice. “Where is he?” He was pushed by the crowd to where Savvel knelt on the ground, sedate, hands bound together with a strip of cloth.
“ Yelse is my sister,” Sarid said over and over again. “Yelse is my sister. Savvel will tell you. She’s my sister.” Yelse was lying on the bed, being attended to by medics, ignoring Sarid. Just like everyone else.
Sarid pushed through the crowd, grabbed Rischa’s shirtsleeve. “If you’ll let me explain––”
“Did he force you up here?”
“ She’s my sister .”
“ Sisters?” He rubbed his eyes. “Gods I’m stupid.”
“ You remember my sister? I told you about her, right after I met Savvel––”
“ She’s not your sister.” He looked her in the eye, grabbed her shoulders, gently shook her. “You’re still in his head. It’s happened before. With your hound.”
“ This is real.” Why hadn’t she told him about Yelse immediately?
“ You’ll come out of it. You came out of it before.”
“ There’s nothing to come out of .”
“ I’ll look after you, until you come out of it.” He held onto her arm.
“ If you would listen––”
But he didn’t. “Are you all done looking on?” he said coldly to everyone, and they began to filter through the door. He and Count Pash spoke together and decided to set a guard on Savvel’s door, and Savvel was led away by two big men.
“I’m going to bed,” said Sarid. She tried to shake off Rischa’s hand, but he only held her tighter.
“ I’d feel better if you slept in my rooms.”
***
“Peitr,” Rischa called to his manservant, who rose from his pallet and blinked blearily. “Turn out the bed in the small room, will you? I’ll find you a nightshirt,” he said to Sarid, and walked into his own chamber.
Peitr lit a lamp. “Here.” He beckoned her towards a room. The door had a lock on the outside––she shuddered to think why. She was irritated enough to blow Peitr out the window. But Rischa hadn’t done anything and she didn’t want him to think her any madder, so in she went.
The bed was small and well appointed. Peitr put the lamp on the dresser and began thumping dust off the counterpane. He looked at her and stopped thumping. “Rischa,” he called out the door. “Come here.”
Rischa came through the door, a long shirt in his hands. Peitr took the lamp and held it next to Sarid’s face. “She’s covered in them.” Sarid looked in the mirror over the dresser. She’d a black eye, swollen nose, and other welts and bruises just starting to darken. Behind her Rischa’s face was stark like a mountainside. Peitr pulled out the collar of her dress and peered down her back.
“I did it,” she said. “I did it. To myself.” She pulled away and took the shirt from Rischa.
“ You can’t very well hit yourself between the shoulders,” said Peitr.
Rischa left the room and Sarid heard him say, “I must make a visit.”
She said, “If you go to your
Leva stood up. “You can’t kill us both,” she said. “Look odd, wouldn’t it?” Leva turned to Sarid. “Sisters?”
Two male medics ran through the open door. One pulled Savvel’s arms behind his back and forced him to his knees. The other stopped and stared at the blood soaking through Yelse’s nightshirt. He shut the window and called out of the room for soap and water. Leva backed away, letting it pass without a word. Sarid could see her thinking through the list of who would believe her and who wouldn’t. The latter must’ve been longer: though her jaw worked and her eyes fairly flamed, Leva drew into a corner and kept silent. Other people filled the doorway, woken by the noise, and Sarid heard Rischa’s name whispered among them.
Pash and his wife were there. “Let him go somewhere else. Take him away somewhere,” the countess cried, wiping her eyes with her shirtfront. “No one is safe.”
“ Let me see my brother,” came Rischa’s voice. “Where is he?” He was pushed by the crowd to where Savvel knelt on the ground, sedate, hands bound together with a strip of cloth.
“ Yelse is my sister,” Sarid said over and over again. “Yelse is my sister. Savvel will tell you. She’s my sister.” Yelse was lying on the bed, being attended to by medics, ignoring Sarid. Just like everyone else.
Sarid pushed through the crowd, grabbed Rischa’s shirtsleeve. “If you’ll let me explain––”
“Did he force you up here?”
“ She’s my sister .”
“ Sisters?” He rubbed his eyes. “Gods I’m stupid.”
“ You remember my sister? I told you about her, right after I met Savvel––”
“ She’s not your sister.” He looked her in the eye, grabbed her shoulders, gently shook her. “You’re still in his head. It’s happened before. With your hound.”
“ This is real.” Why hadn’t she told him about Yelse immediately?
“ You’ll come out of it. You came out of it before.”
“ There’s nothing to come out of .”
“ I’ll look after you, until you come out of it.” He held onto her arm.
“ If you would listen––”
But he didn’t. “Are you all done looking on?” he said coldly to everyone, and they began to filter through the door. He and Count Pash spoke together and decided to set a guard on Savvel’s door, and Savvel was led away by two big men.
“I’m going to bed,” said Sarid. She tried to shake off Rischa’s hand, but he only held her tighter.
“ I’d feel better if you slept in my rooms.”
***
“Peitr,” Rischa called to his manservant, who rose from his pallet and blinked blearily. “Turn out the bed in the small room, will you? I’ll find you a nightshirt,” he said to Sarid, and walked into his own chamber.
Peitr lit a lamp. “Here.” He beckoned her towards a room. The door had a lock on the outside––she shuddered to think why. She was irritated enough to blow Peitr out the window. But Rischa hadn’t done anything and she didn’t want him to think her any madder, so in she went.
The bed was small and well appointed. Peitr put the lamp on the dresser and began thumping dust off the counterpane. He looked at her and stopped thumping. “Rischa,” he called out the door. “Come here.”
Rischa came through the door, a long shirt in his hands. Peitr took the lamp and held it next to Sarid’s face. “She’s covered in them.” Sarid looked in the mirror over the dresser. She’d a black eye, swollen nose, and other welts and bruises just starting to darken. Behind her Rischa’s face was stark like a mountainside. Peitr pulled out the collar of her dress and peered down her back.
“I did it,” she said. “I did it. To myself.” She pulled away and took the shirt from Rischa.
“ You can’t very well hit yourself between the shoulders,” said Peitr.
Rischa left the room and Sarid heard him say, “I must make a visit.”
She said, “If you go to your
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