Book of Earth (The Bradamante Saga 1) by Robin Brande

Author:Robin Brande [Brande, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Ryer Publishing
Published: 2015-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

~~~

She was so different in the flesh.

Surely, Astolpho thought, after years of watching her—so closely sometimes he thought he might taste the sweat on her skin or feel her hair brush against his face—surely there would be no surprises when they finally met.

But she was so, so different.

First of all, there was the scent of her. She smelled of dry grass and dust and horse and sweat, and when Astolpho passed her in the corridor he nearly lost his mind. He wanted to follow her, close by, breathing in the reality of her. Her voice was deep and musical. He could feel it vibrating over the stones, bouncing off the walls and the timbers in the roof, echoing inside his head like a chant. Her skin was warm and alive, and he nearly reached out to touch her, to feel the substance of her.

He tried to catch her eye, but she was much too interested in her new surroundings to notice one insignificant monk—one who had looked into her eyes so many times over the years, without her ever seeing him.

Now he wanted to be seen. He was ashamed of how much he wanted that.

He knew he should confess to Samual right away. Confess it all: that at some point over the years he had stopped thinking of her as merely a friend or a sister—that his feelings ran swift and deep and filled him past brimming, like a river overrunning its banks. Confess this bottomless need to uncover every mystery of her mind and soul—to know her better than he might ever know himself. Confess that seeing her finally, here in the flesh, had broken his heart open like a thorn festering beneath the skin. Confess this physical longing to be close to her, to breathe her in like smoke, to taste her like ripe fruit, to lay claim to her like the man who discovers new lands.

Shameful. Sinful. Where is your mind? Where is your heart?

Ah, the test of the devoted. Samual had warned the monks of it many times. For some, it was the pull of money or power or possessions. For others it was the lure of women or other temptations of the flesh. For all, it was the seductive call of things worldly, leading the heart and mind and soul away from the purity of true devotion.

But Astolpho was a warrior of the soul, and he had trained for this. He might not be as skilled as some of the other monks in use of his sword, but his mind had always been sharper, tougher, more easily trained on thoughts of his god. He could endure this—would endure it, just as he had promised Samual.

This was a test, nothing more.

It had been too easy all these years, watching her, knowing they were never in danger of meeting. His god knew his heart too well. What better way to test him, Astolpho knew, than to bring her here, dangle her in front of him like raw lamb before a hungry wolf?

He escaped to his chamber to pray until it was time for dinner.

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