Harvest of Dreams (The Gods' Dream Trilogy) by Debra Holland Read Free Book Online Page A

of Seagem, and wondered if she should cull them, sending some to Penutar to fuel Ontarem.
    Then because Pasinae still felt miffed with the God, she decided not to. The slaves brought here lacked the strong power Ontarem needed anyway.
    Daria. Her mind ground on the name. She still seethed that the princess had escaped her net because of Withea. If only I’d known… The refrain, thought so often it must have worn grooves in her brain, circled through her mind. Pasinae shrugged, casting off recriminations.
    Focus on future plans , she told herself, starting with capturing Indaran and Daria. The problem was she didn’t have any idea how to do that. But hopefully she and Nabric could devise something. He’d always been the best of the three of them when it came to strategizing and solving problems.
    From this angle, Pasinae couldn’t see the other two islands, nor the lights from the crystals set near the peaks of each volcano, which beamed into the ocean between the three, forming a cage for Yadarius, SeaGod. But she could feel their power pulsing in the air, a ragged beat not unlike Ontarem’s. Of course the rhythm would be similar given that the God still controlled the energy connecting the crystals. The pearl resting between her breasts hummed to the crystals’ vibrations.
    Captain Smartic approached. He was a tall, bulky man with a hooked nose and teeth sharpened to points. He’d removed the fur vest and armor worn by the crew in colder waters, and the sunlight shone on his bare chest, glistening on the dark skin, and glittering over the pile of gold necklaces around his neck and the hoops in his ears.
    He sketched her a bow. “Trine Priest Nabric’s barge approaches, Trine Priestess.” He waved to the other side of the ship. “If you will prepare to disembark, I’ll have a man see to your luggage.”
    Pasinae gave him a regal nod, not making eye contact or speaking. She never spoke to one of the seadogs unless she had to. The honor of conversing with one of the Trine did not, in her opinion, belong to the seascum.
    She left the captain’s presence to cross the deck, concentrating on moving with the gliding stride all Ontarem’s priests and priestesses used. She leaned against the rail, disguising her eagerness to catch a glimpse of the brother she hadn’t seen for fourteen years—not since she’d left Penutar to journey to Ocean’s Glory with Prince Thaddis securely under Ontarem’s control.
    The barge was made of gilded wood with carved side panels. Nabric sat on a throne in the center, while almost naked Stingfish men labored along the sides, leaning on the oars.
    A sailor a few feet away from her tossed a rope ladder overboard. A man on the barge caught the bottom and anchored the end to some hooks.
    Mentally grumbling about the undignified way she had to exit the ship, Pasinae gathered the skirt of her silk dress and accepted Smartic’s hand to climb over the side. She steadied her feet on the rope rung of the ladder, then carefully worked her way down until she reached the barge
    The man at the bottom caught her around the waist and helped her jump down.
    The affront. Pasinae sent him a withering glare.
    He snatched his hands away as if she’d burned them.
    Nabric rose and stepped from the throne. He was dressed in a modified version of their gray robes—the kind she hadn’t worn for years—sleeveless and short like a tunic. A belt of worked silveral circled his waist, his pearl of power set into the middle. He extended his hands to her.
    She caught them and squeezed, a rush of emotion pressing against her chest. Nabric looked almost identical to Kokam, and joy for the reunion and sadness for the loss of their brother warred within her. To distract herself from showing any emotion to the watching men, she studied Nabric, searching for the differences between him and Kokam.
    Nabric still sported the tiny scar on the corner of his forehead from a fall when they were small before they were taken