A Castle to Keep (Militess & Mage Book 2) by Monica Enderle Pierce

Author:Monica Enderle Pierce
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780985976163
Publisher: Stalking Fiction
Published: 2017-08-16T06:00:00+00:00

The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as Noni scuttled into the infirmary. “Gods, Master. She dead?”

“Nearly. Put the water on the table then give me the towels and the medical kit.” He cut the straps holding Halina’s bloody, battered armor to her body. She was cold, clammy, pale, her breathing shallow and rapid. He had to get the blade out of her thigh, but she was bleeding like a stuck pig and removing the dagger would hasten her death if he didn’t close the wound quickly.

Noni handed him a damp towel and started working on the pauldrons protecting the militess’s shoulders and upper chest. “Told you that wraith would be trouble.”

The metal and leather were blood-slicked. Gethen finally got the steel tasset protecting her left thigh unbuckled. “I’ll regret that later. Thread a needle.” He glanced up as Magod entered the room. “Grab a towel,” he said to the groundsman. “As soon as I lift this tasset and the dagger away, bear down on the wound or she’ll bleed out.” With the armor loose, Gethen slid his own belt around Halina’s thigh above the wound. Quickly, quickly, they had to work quickly.

Noni offered the threaded needle. Magod stood poised with the folded towel. Gethen pulled the tasset and misericord away from Halina’s flesh. Her blood geysered. Magod covered the wound and Gethen tightened the belt. “Semele’s blood.” Her own blade had nicked her artery. “Skiron, spare her,” he murmured as he worked to close the wound before blood loss took her leg or her life.

The room darkened and Gethen looked up from his stitching. Where were Noni and Magod? He looked back down. Halina was gone, the infirmary, too. He was crouching beneath a table, hidden by a heavy tablecloth. Two voices echoed in a vast room, the sound dissipating into the rafters and behind columns. One of the men was his father. Except that was impossible because Gethen’s father was dead. The other man’s voice was strange, wispy, both familiar and unfamiliar. He, too, was dead—by Gethen’s hand. How could he know that if he didn’t know the man? Gethen shook his head.

His father said, “She was formidable without the sun mage’s power at her beck and call. Now, she’s undefeatable. That makes her our most dangerous enemy.”

“Or our greatest ally.”

“She’ll refuse.”

“How can you be certain?”

“That hatred had deep roots.”

“Fine. Then use her strength to destroy him.” Their voices receded as they moved away.

“Agreed.” A door creaked open. “The deaths begin tonight.” It thudded closed.

He hugged his knees, cold in his nightshirt. He’d be beaten if they caught him out of bed. He crawled out from beneath the table, cautious, all senses alert. He stood and blinked. He was in Kharaton’s great hall.

“I don’t want you here.” Halina was circling him. “I don’t want you here. I don’t want you.” She grabbed his arm.

Gethen awakened, dagger in hand. A pale, young page squawked and jumped back, surprised by the blade and the bite of the ward he’d broken.

“My hand’s dead!” the boy cried, cradling the limb against his chest like a baby.

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