Mist-Torn Witches 02:Witches in Red by Barb Hendee Read Free Book Online Page B

and the more narrow and potholed the road became. It must turn to mud in the autumn.
    The weather in Droevinka leaned toward cold and gray—sometimes even in summer. Amelie was accustomed to this.
    But toward the end of this second day of the journey, she was beginning to find their surroundings downright oppressive. Daylight was fading, and old trees along the side of the narrow road were dotted with moss that dangled in scant beards from a few branches. Beneath the aroma of loam and wild foliage was an ever-present thin scent of decay. By the way several of the soldiers glanced around at the trees, she could see she wasn’t alone in noting the eerie quality of the forest.
    “Small clearing ahead,” Jaromir called. “We’ll make camp for the night.”
    “Oh, thank the gods,” Céline said quietly. “I can’t wait to get off this horse.”
    Within moments, they were off the road and dismounted, and a now somewhat familiar routine began. Several soldiers saw to the horses while others found branches for a fire and still others unpacked provisions. Whenever possible, Amelie and Céline tried to help, but Jaromir’s men were well trained, and Amelie felt more in the way than anything else.
    “Voulter and Rimoux,” Jaromir said to a pair of men as he pointed west. “There’s a stream just below that drop-off. Go and fetch some water.”
    Had he already known about the stream before stopping? Jaromir seemed to have planned for everything, and he knew how to give orders. Thankfully, he’d packed a small tent, and each night, one of the soldiers had set it up for Amelie and Céline so they wouldn’t have to sleep in the open.
    By the fall of full darkness, camp had been set, water was boiling for tea, and several men were passing out rations of jerked beef, apples, and biscuits. Amelie moved to sit by the fire with her supper balanced in one arm. She had to keep her other hand free to lift the more than annoying hem of her skirt. She still hated wearing this dress and didn’t think she’d get used to it. The red cloak didn’t bother her so much. At least it was warm.
    A few of the soldiers sat down beside her. The routine for setting camp and eating had been exactly the same last night, but tonight . . . something felt different. The men kept glancing into the thick, dark forest, and the long, dangling beards of moss from the nearest trees looked like black ropes, waiting to tangle whoever was foolish enough to go near.
    Even Guardsman Rurik, who was known for his cheerful nature, sat down silently and kept his eyes lowered as he bit into an apple.
    “Shall we have some entertainment?” Céline asked, smiling as she walked through the seated soldiers and stood near the fire. “You all look a glum lot to me.”
    She wasn’t carrying any food, and her cloak was thrown back over her shoulders so that her arms were free. Amelie couldn’t help but feel a stab of admirationfor her sister. Céline had a few faults, being overly sensitive for one, but at times that sensitivity could be useful. She’d probably felt the men’s trepidation over the past few hours even more keenly than had Amelie.
    The difference was that Céline could do something about it.
    “Guardsman Voulter,” Céline said, turning toward a young man with carrot red hair. “I saw you in the market last week, trying to win over Esmeralda, the butcher’s pretty daughter, and I could see she left you in some doubt.”
    A few of the soldiers stopped eating and grinned as Guardsman Voulter’s face turned as red as his hair.
    “Would you like to know how she will receive your attentions next time?” Céline asked.
    “I’d like to know,” Rurik called out through a mouthful of apple.
    Several of the others laughed.
    Standing there with the darkness behind her, light from the flames glinting off her hair, and her red cloak thrown back, Céline looked every inch the beautiful gypsy fortune-teller.
    “Would you like to know?” she asked