Joining by Johanna Lindsey Read Free Book Online Page B

Rhiska off.
    The bird died almost instantly. Milisant did not need to examine it to know it was dead, she had felt the life spirit flow out of it, and she went a little mad in that moment of loss, launching herself at the boy as Rhiska had done, wanting to kill him as he had killed her bird.
    She had no awareness, really, of what she was doing, she was so mad with grief, no awareness until she flew back from his push and crashed into one of the bird perches. She collapsed on her foot, heard the snap of her ankle, felt the pain wash over her. But the horror of a broken foot was worse than any pain, for she knew such breaks did not mend, that anyone who suffered such would be lame for life. And lame folk were not pitied, they were ignored, considered so inferior they became less than villeins—they became beggars.
    She did not scream, made no sound, mayhap because of the shock. And to this day, she never knew how she had withstood the pain to push that bone back where it ought to be, never knew why she had done it, except for that terrifying thought of being lame the rest of her life.
    Her two friends had run quickly for help so she could be carried inside the keep. The stranger had gone as soon as he had done his damage. She had not seen him again. But ironically, because she still had not made a sound, her injury had not been thought serious, had been thought no more than a twisting that would mend right quickly.
    Only Jhone had known otherwise and had shared her horror of the expected lameness. Even the castle leech had known no different, for his answer had been to break out his leeches for a bloodletting. He had not even glanced once toward her injury. But then that was his answer for any malady. His bloody leeches were kept well fed.
    For three months Milisant would not walk on her foot. For three months she would not remove the boot she had laced rightly to her ankle either, for fear of what it would look like underneath. She had only tied the boot on because it had seemed to relieve the pain somewhat, and so she had left it on.
    But even after the pain had gone away completely, she had been too afeared to take a single step on her foot, or examine it closely. ’Twas only because Jhone had finally complained of being kicked too often by that boot whilst they slept that Milisant had at last removed it, leadingto the discovery that she was not going to be a cripple after all.
    To this day, Milisant said a daily prayer of thanks that her foot had somehow mended itself correctly, without leaving her lame. ’Twas not until two years later that she’d finally learned who that stranger had been, and that she really was promised to wed him. He had not lied, but he had not endeared himself to her in killing her Rhiska and nigh crippling her, far from it. She despised him and despised the very thought of being forced to marry him.
    For six years after she’d learned the truth, she had worried about it, then for another year, then another. But when she’d been ten and four she’d stopped worrying about it. Wulfric had not come to Dunburh again and it had begun to look like he never would. So she had determined to wed her friend Roland instead as soon as he was old enough.
    Her father would just have to be reasonable about this. With Roland she could be happy, she was sure of it, for she admired him greatly and they were already close friends. With Wulfric—she did not care to think how miserable her life would be with a brute such as he.
    He was handsome enough, had been so as a boy, was more so as a man. He still could not compare to Roland, who had the face of an angel and the body of a giant—like his father, whom Milisant had met one time when he’d come to visit Roland at Fulbray.
    She and Roland had both been fostered at Fulbray. Most all boys were fostered for their knight’s training, since it was assumed that athome their retainers and parents might go easy on them. ’Twas hardening future knights needed. Many