Crimson Bound by Rosamund Hodge

Crimson Bound by Rosamund Hodge

Author:Rosamund Hodge [Hodge, Rosamund]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Balzer + Bray
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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When Rachelle was seven years old, she slipped into Aunt Léonie’s house while she was out. She put on her aunt’s spare cloak, got into her yarn, and pretended to weave charms. When Aunt Léonie came back early and raised her eyebrows, the shame had felt like scalding-hot water poured over every bit of her body.

She felt that way now: like an idiotic child caught playing pretend. For one moment, all she wanted to do was drop her sword, strip off her coat, and slink back into her family’s house and scrub the floor until she was forgiven.

Then she heard the crackle of the burning house. She remembered what people in the countryside did to bloodbound.

She was not a child anymore. There was not going to be any forgiveness.

And right now, she couldn’t accept judgment.

Her head still ached. Her arm burned with pain. But the icy calm of a fight was seeping over her skin. She tightened her grip on her sword.

“Everybody stay back,” she said. “Armand, get over here.”

Instantly she realized that she had just told them whom to take hostage, but since none of them were Erec, maybe it wouldn’t occur to them at once.

Armand started to step forward; she saw the people noticing him for the first time, wondering who the other stranger was.

“Here’s what will happen,” she snapped, because she couldn’t let them pay enough attention to realize Armand was defenseless. “My friend and I will leave. You stay here. Nobody gets hurt.”

“Who are you?” called out Claude, and for a moment Rachelle couldn’t breathe. Of course they didn’t know her, she was just another faceless bloodbound now, and if only she’d had the wit to pretend—

“Rachelle Brinon?” said André. He was a big, bluff man and confusion looked utterly strange on his face.

She saw the recognition ripple across the faces in the crowd, saw the shift in their stances as they realized she was dangerous. An enemy.

She didn’t see her father; he must have fled as soon as he recognized her.

She raised her sword. “I will kill you all if you give me any trouble,” she declared, but inside she was shaking with terror. She couldn’t hurt these people she’d known all her life.

She couldn’t die here. She still had to find Joyeuse.

Then suddenly Armand was between her and the crowd. “Nobody’s fighting,” he said, pressing his back against her and grabbing her arm. “Nobody is fighting anyone without going through me.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rachelle demanded.

She felt his back stiffen. “If they want to punish you for shedding innocent blood, they can hardly cut through me to do it.”

“Did nobody teach you how vengeance works?”

“Besides, I doubt I’d survive walking back through the woods on my own, so if they want you dead, then this will save time, really.”

“Stand back!” a woman called out. A moment later, the crowd parted.

Aunt Léonie stepped out.

For one sick, horrifying moment, that was whom she saw. Then she realized that the woman clad in white and red was too tall to be Aunt Léonie; her hair was too light, her face too pointy.



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