Entreat Me by Grace Draven Read Free Book Online Page B

cloaked and hooded, raced toward her.  A lifetime of habit ruled Louvaen, and she held up a staying hand.  “Cinnia!  Stop running before you fall and break your neck!”
    Her command went unheeded.  Cinnia launched herself into her sister’s arms with a sob, knocking them both against an affronted Plowfoot.  “Lou!  Oh, thank gods, you made it safely!”
    Despite the fact she wanted to wring Cinnia’s neck for scaring the life out of her and their father, she hugged her back hard enough to make her squeak.  A gloved finger caressed the line of Cinnia’s nose.  “Are you well?”
    The girl grinned, her eyes bright in the shadow of her hood.  “Yes, very well!”  She kissed Louvaen’s hand.  “But you’re an icicle!  Let’s get you inside and by the fire.  Someone will see to Plowfoot.”  She peered past Louvaen’s shoulder, and dread replaced her smile.  “Where’s Papa?”
    Louvaen gave her arm a reassuring pat.  “Not in a cell.  He came down with a cold.  I left him in Dame Niamh’s care.”
    “She’s always liked Papa.  She’ll treat him well.”
    “Oh, I’m sure she will.” Their attractive widowed neighbor had been casting lascivious smiles at Mercer Hallis for years, ever since Cinnia’s mother died.  Louvaen didn’t doubt the woman would coddle her father and try to seduce him into her bed.  She kept that bit of conjecture to herself.
    She let Cinnia lead her by the hand up the castle steps.  Behind her, a cloaked figure led Plowfoot toward the stable.  The mysterious watcher on the battlements had disappeared.
    “What’s wrong?”  Cinnia tugged on her arm.  “He’ll be fine.  The stable is warm, and he’ll have a stall with oats and fresh water.”
    “There was someone on the battlements when the drawbridge lowered.  Was that de Sauveterre?”
    “No.  The family’s sorcerer, Ambrose.”
    Louvaen halted in the snowfall and dropped Cinnia’s arm.  “They keep a magician in their household?”  That explained why the property stank of magic.
    Cinnia rolled her eyes and clutched her elbow.  “He’s a decent sort.  Reserved but kind to me since I’ve been here.  You’ll meet him tonight.”  She shook Louvaen’s arm in warning.  “Be civil, Lou.  If you’ll remember, it was magic that led you to Ketach Tor.”
    “Aye and I’d not have to resort to the stuff if you’d just stayed home!”  She yelped and slapped Cinnia’s hand when the girl pinched her.
    “I’m not discussing this in a snow storm while there’s shelter and a fire waiting for us.  We can fight this out over a cup of ale.  Now come with me.”  She all but dragged Louvaen through the doors.
    They entered a large hall brightened by a mix of torches, candles and a lit hearth opposite the entry.  Shadows cast by the dancing flames cavorted across lime-plastered walls and fled toward a ceiling supported by a ribcage of age-blackened timbers that reminded Louvaen of a ship’s hull flipped upside down.  The twinkle of steel caught her eye, and she half turned to view one wall covered in an array of weapons—swords, axes, glaives and spears.  Shields lined an adjacent wall, interspersed by tapestries depicting both hunting and battle scenes from an age long passed.  Rushes crackled underfoot as she followed Cinnia to the fire, and Louvaen caught a whiff of dust and rosemary.
    Waves of welcoming heat billowed toward her.  The hall was antiquated but not neglected.  The hearth was modern and sent smoke up an unseen flue instead of directly into the chamber.  The snow on Louvaen’s cloak melted, turning it and her into a sodden mess.  She shrugged it off her shoulders and held the dripping garment in an outstretched arm with a grimace.  “Where can I put this?”
    “I’ll take it, mistress.”
    Louvaen whirled.  The woman holding out her hand for the cloak was a small creature, no taller than Cinnia, but wiry with sharp features and brown hair streaked gray.  She