Touchstone by Letitia Coyne

Author:Letitia Coyne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Published: 2013-02-27T05:00:00+00:00

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The citadel was three easy days’ ride and Dragan had done it in less than two. That had required no great effort, except he had also detoured north a short way to the small market village of Bralz, built where the open farmlands bordered the forests.

His mother’s views were not entirely new to him and her judgments not unconsidered. The people he had grown up among lived a different life to any Freya had ever known. In the midst of wide pasturelands and fields of crops, a code of tradition had held its sway for generations. Since ancient times, the men and women of the land had known their rights and their responsibilities. They knew what was decent and what was not, they knew how to judge and who to ostracize, even where the classes rarely clashed.

Freya would be met with discrimination wherever she went, except in the safety of his home. There, he would make sure she had a safe and peaceful haven; somewhere to let all the wounds of her past heal. He would insist upon it.

But some chafing could be minimized. A little compromise here and there would make their dealings with neighbors a little less strained. The simple act of wearing skirts would help her blend more peacefully into the community. He had never seen her in full skirts and a bodice, a shawl and apron, or a scarf. He smiled at the thought.

But he had paid the seamstress in Bralz to have her make the most beautiful garments he could afford. It would be his gift to her when they returned this way in a little over a month.

The massive stone walls of Orlik were at once as familiar as home and as despised as a prison. He had hoped to make this journey when the day of her release came, so he would not have to be inside its walls any longer than necessary. But if Freya could work her way through ninety long days here, he could stand a month for her sake. If boredom became too much, he could always take on a troop of recruits and train them with sword or in archery.

As he approached the gate house, there was nothing familiar about the scene he glimpsed inside, and he slipped down from his saddle.

A caravan of spectacular wealth sparkled in the midday sun as it was prepared to move out along the road. Officers and recruits alike were massing in the open parade ground, or hurrying along the terraces.

He was stopped at the gates; not halted briefly with half-assed questions as he would have expected, but halted at spear point. A young man, unshaven fluff all tufting on his chin and cheeks, held the spear at Dragan’s chest, shaking as if he would run it through out of sheer terror. “What is your business here?” he asked, his voice trembling as much as his hands.

Dragan ignored him, searching the guardbooth and peering around the gateposts for a familiar face.

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