Reluctant Concubine by Dana Marton

Author:Dana Marton [Marton, Dana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Fantasy
Amazon: B00U6PJ14K
Publisher: Dana Marton
Published: 2015-03-02T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

(Into the Mist)

The last day of waiting I spent in nervous agony. I gathered food first thing in the morning—cheese, cured meat, flatbread, and apples. I hid them under my bed, along with a rolled-up blanket. My knees trembled by the time I finished.

My anxieties only increased as the morning progressed, and I suddenly thought of a great many things that could go wrong with my escape. Better to spend the rest of the day in my chamber, lest I gave myself away.

By the time an unfamiliar servant woman asked to see me after the noon meal, I was grateful for the distraction, guessing she had come for healing.

Leena followed on the woman’s heels, her face in a displeased frown. She reached out to tug the stranger back. “I told you, my lady is not accepting visitors.”

But the portly woman fell to her knees and bowed until her forehead touched the pelt-covered stones.

“Lady Tera, I beg your forgiveness for disturbing you. I plead for a mother’s life.” Her voice shook, as did her hands that clutched her worn shawl.

“I will gladly help if I can. Tell your master to bring her to the kitchen. I shall wait for her there.”

Her master was probably one of the merchants who regularly visited the palace and had heard of my healings. He must have sent the servant because he had a sick concubine.

“My lady cannot be moved. She is near death in childbirth.” The woman sobbed with the last couple of words. “She lost two babes in these past years, and now the third might take her. A boy this time, the soothsayer is sure.”

Leena tugged her up, appearing not the least touched by the sad tale, despite the soft heart I knew she possessed. “I am sorry for your troubles, but my lady cannot leave the palace. The High Lord is away. We cannot ask him to give her leave.”

I stared at the pair, dismay flooding me.

Something deep inside me railed against Leena’s words. She had called me her lady, but for all my beautiful clothes and my spacious chamber, I had little more freedom than a slave.

“I beg you to send your powers to my lord’s house.” The woman tore away from Leena to fall at my feet. She looked at me with a tear-streaked face, brackets of despair around her mouth.

“I wish I had powers as such.” Tales of my healings had grown so exaggerated, people were willing to believe anything. “But I cannot tell what ails her until I see her, and I cannot heal her unless I know what ails her.”

She sobbed then in earnest, still prostrate before me, her body racked with grief.

Never had I hated not having my own free will more. And from that frustration, resolve was born the next moment.

I was a healer.

No High Lord and no threat of punishment could ever change that. I lifted my veil from the end of the bed and wrapped it around my head, even as Leena’s eyes widened with alarm.

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