Legacy of the Sword by Jennifer Roberson Read Free Book Online Page A

shoulders, in glorious disarray. Her lustrous white skin and long gray eyes were her mother’s; her pride was Carillon’s.
    “Aislinn!” It was the only word he could muster. For two years he had not seen her, knowing her only through her letters to Carillon. And in those two years she had crossed the threshold between girlhood and womanhood. She was still young—too young, he thought, for marriage—but all her awkward days were over.
    He smiled at her, prepared to tell her how much she had changed—and for the better. But his smile slowly began to fade as she moved into the hall.
    Aislinn let the tapestry curtain fall from a long-fingered hand. The gems in the girdle flashed in the candlelight. Gold gleamed. A fortune clasped her slender waist and dangled against her skirts. And Donal, knowing that Carillon’s taste in gifts to his daughter ran to merlins, puppies and kittens, realized the girdle was undoubtedly a present from Electra.
    He looked at Aislinn’s face. It was taut and forbidding, set in lines too harsh for a young woman of sixteen years, but if she had heard his final words to Electra he was not at all surprised she should view him with some hostility.
    The girdle chimed as Aislinn moved. And Donal wondereduneasily if Electra had somehow purchased her daughter’s loyalty.
    Carillon should never have sent her…not for so long. Not for two years. The gods know he meant well by it, realizing the girl needed to see her jehana…but he should have had her brought back much sooner, regardless of all those letters begging to remain a little longer. Two years is too long. The gods know what the witch has done to Aislinn’s loyalties.
    The girl halted before him, glancing briefly at the wolf. Donal thought she might greet her old friend, but she made no move to kneel down and scratch Lorn’s ears as she had in earlier days.
    Aislinn’s pride was manifest. “Well? What say you, Donal?” Her tone was a reflection of her mother’s, cool and supremely controlled. “What of
me
?”
    “By the gods, Aislinn!” he said in surprise. “I have no quarrel with
you.
It is your
jehana
who lacks manners!”
    It was obviously not what she expected him to say. She lost all of her cool demeanor and stared at him in astonishment. “How
dare
you attack my mother!”
    “Donal.” Electra’s voice sounded dangerously amused, and he looked at her warily. “Are you certain you
wish
to wed my daughter?”
    He wanted to swear. He did not, but only because he shut his mouth on the beginning of the word. He glared at Electra. “Play no games with me, lady. Aislinn and I have been betrothed for fifteen years. We have been friends as long as that.”
    Electra smiled: a cat before a mousehole. “Friends, aye—at one time. But are you so certain she is the woman you would wish to keep as your wife the rest of your life?”
    No
, he said inwardly.
Not Aislinn…but what choice do I have?
    He gritted his teeth and made up his mind not to lose the battle. Not to Electra. He knew she took no prisoners. “I imagine you have done what you could to turn Aislinn against this marriage in the two years you have hosted her.” He glanced at the girl and saw contempt for him in her eyes. Electra’s eyes, so cool and shrewd. Contempt, where once there had been childlike adoration. “Aye,” he said grimly, “I see you have. But I have more faith in Aislinn’s integrity.”
    “Integrity has nothing to do with it,” Electra said gently. “Ask Aislinn what she thinks of bearing unnatural children.”
    Shock riveted him. He stared at the woman in horror. “
Unnatural children—
”
    “Ask Aislinn what she thinks of babies born with fangs and claws and tails, and the beast-mark on their faces,” Electra suggested softly. “Ask Aislinn what she thinks of playing mother—no,
jehana
—” she twisted the Old Tongue cruelly “—to a
thing
not wholly human nor wholly animal—but bestial instead.” The perfect mouth smiled.