i be90349f18331670 by Unknown Read Free Book Online

murder you in your sleep,” he said evenly. He shot a pointed glance at the rifle, propped against a tree, Brayden between it and Wil.
    And he hadn’t missed the way Brayden had practically slept atop his weapons last night. “I don’t intend to steal one of your guns and shoot you in the back. I choose to trust you because I believe that perhaps Siofra did lie and you’re not what I’ve always thought you. I believe you want to help, and I think any danger from you will be unintentional. But I won’t trust you blindly. If it comes to a choice between you or me…” He shrugged, waggled the knife a little. “I’ll still choose me.”
    Brayden nodded slowly, eyes on the blade. “Fair enough,” he finally answered. He nodded at the knife.
    “Keep it.”
    Wil frowned, let his hand fall open, the knife balanced across his palm. “It’s a nice knife.”
    “It is,” Brayden agreed. “My foster parents gave it to me when I was inducted into the army. It’s served me well.”
    “You were in the army?” Wil didn’t know why he was so surprised. Brayden was exactly the type: honor, duty, rectitude. All of those things necessary to men who fancied themselves guardians of anything, and liked to play with guns. It was amazing, upon reflection, that it had taken Brayden so long to admit what he was, regardless of what he was meant to guard. Wil’s frown deepened, the knife a growing weight in his hand. “Were you an officer?”
    Of course he was an officer—he had an air about him as one who’d been giving orders all his life, and was used to having them followed.
    But Brayden just waved a hand at the knife. “It’s a good blade,” was all he said.
    Wil didn’t miss the deliberate change of subject, but he didn’t pursue it just now. He shook his head. “Why 40

    Carole Cummings
    would you give it to me?” he wanted to know, trying for suspicion, but only achieving consternation.
    Brayden didn’t answer, just leaned toward the fire, poked at the coals with a long stick, then stood. He shouldered the rifle and turned his back to the fire and to Wil. “Get some sleep,” he said. “If the weather lets up tomorrow, I’ll teach you to shoot, so you—” He turned with a frown, waved a hand at the sky. “D’you, um…
    d’you make it stop, too?”
    Wil blinked. “I haven’t before. Should I try?”
    Brayden thought about it for a moment then shook his head. “I can’t think why. Anyway, if the weather lets up, I’ll teach you to shoot so you can take a watch. In the meantime, at least one of us should get some rest.”
    Wil looked from Brayden to the knife in his hand, and let his arm drop. He refused to let himself ponder it, at least not tonight; instead, he turned the knife over in his hands, watching the firelight glance and shiver over its etched surface, its sharp edge. He peered up at Brayden’s broad back, smiled a little, then slipped the dagger beneath the saddle.

    The clearing was silent, the air still heavy and rimy with yesterday’s rain. They’d struck out south when they broke camp that morning, the forest petering out along the way, from dense and thick to sparser growth that grudgingly let through moody, erratic sunlight. There were fewer evergreens here—more oaks and elms—
    and the leaves and deadfall on the forest floor slipped and slid in the muck beneath their feet and the horses’
    hoofs. Dead vines wound thick and treacherous, so the speed they should have gained through clearer paths was cancelled out by another day of cautious stepping. Still, 41

    The Aisling Book Two Dream
    they were covering a lot more ground than Wil had ever done walking.
    Wil stood unmoving, concentrating, his back straight, head slightly bent to the left, one eye closed as he took careful aim at the target, licked his lips. He vibrated just a little, anticipation leaking through as though the cool metal against his skin was resonating eagerly beneath his touch. A long, calm breath drew itself