Conquer the Night by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781497673922
Publisher: Open Road Media

From the parapets, Kyra looked down longingly at the river below. Aye, the water was cold, frigid. But it was summer, and the cold could be borne. If only she could jump … how much more difficult could a jump be than a fall?

Of course, God knew what she would do then, where she would go. If she was going to escape, she must do so carefully, with grave thought given to her every move. She didn’t know where Arryn had gone now. She had awakened late yesterday morning to find him gone, which she hadn’t known at first because he had never sought her company during the day. She had found out only when she had ventured from her door to find Patrick on guard, and inviting her to join the men in the main hall for dinner. Somewhat warily she had done so, afraid that perhaps she had been left to the devices of Arryn’s rabble, but too curious about what was to come to refuse any chance for information.

She’d learned nothing, except that John Graham, Jay, and Ragnor were with Arryn, that they were expected to be gone no more than forty-eight hours. But though he’d been gone the length of the day already, she still had ample time to think, to plot, to plan, to make good an escape. His men were not rabble at all, she discovered that night, but earnest young fellows, dedicated to their cause, and kind to her, despite the many degradations they had suffered. Patrick, who had apparently been assigned her guardian in Arryn’s absence, sat by her side and looked after her needs. A juggler had found his way to the castle, and he entertained. A senachie, or storyteller, traveling with the men, played a pipe, and gave the sad lament of King Alexander III, so fine and robust a man, and so tragic a figure, losing his beloved wife, his sons, aye even his daughter, who died in childbed, then dramatically plunging to his death in the pursuit of his young bride—and an heir for Scotland.

At her side, Patrick sniffed.

She looked at him, arching a brow.

He had dimples, rich brown hair, and bright hazel eyes. He smiled wryly at her. “Ah, there’s no disrespect intended, for Alexander were a fine enough king, and a sorry enough man for all his losses, but he was a fool the night he died!”

She must have gazed at him with some astonishment at his words, for he quickly defended himself. “Ask Arryn, if you would! The night was wretched, and the king were warned! Arryn rode with him, and was among the men who found his battered body below the cliffs. And he said they knew, the lot of them knew, somehow, even then, that we were in for it! The sky burned red, they say, foretelling of the blood that would run.”

She shivered slightly. “Then Arryn knew Alexander well?” she inquired.

“Aye, he was given over to his household as a lad; he was knighted by the king himself.

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