Quick, Amanda by The Captive Read Free Book Online Page B

she had a deep-seated fear of horses. Marcus had bought
    her a gentle gelding, but Jadeleine refused to ride, declaring she much preferred her small shuttle cart,
    which had no mind of its own, didn't buck and didn't smell. But Ashlynne and Marcus went riding every
    chance they got. "How's the new mare working out?" Marcus asked. "Wonderful, Father. I love her.
    Thank you." The chestnut mare had been her father's gift to her on her seventeenth birthday six months
    before. Ashlynne ran her hand over the mare's sleek coat. Before her birthday, she'd had to ride one of
    the native karu-atar, which, though pleasant to ride, had none of Artemis's speed or beauty. The
    karu-atar roamed wild up in the north. They were horselike in appearance, with long coarse hair, clawed
    feet, and a whiplike tail. "You should start making plans for the wedding," Marcus remarked. "It will be
    year's end before you know it. Perhaps you should redecorate the two corner suites upstairs for our
    guests. I've asked his parents to stay on after the ceremony. It's been a long time since I've seen Rugen
    and Zahara." Ashlynne nodded. "I'll talk to Mother about it." "I know you don't want this marriage,
    Ashlynne, but Rugen is my closest friend." "I know." Rugen and her father had fought together in the last
    Tierdian war years ago, and had pledged their children to each other when Ashlynne was born. "Niklaus
    is a fine young man, with a brilliant career ahead of him." Ashlynne nodded again. Few girls of her class
    were permitted to choose their own husbands. Women were pawns, traded for land, offered in marriage
    to secure peace between feuding families or forge alliances between worlds; or, in her case, to fulfill her
    father's pledge to his best friend. "I want you to keep silent while I examine the slaves. Most of them
    haven't seen a woman in quite some time." "Yes, Father." Parah had been advised of their imminent
    arrival and he hurried forward to greet them. Marcus dismounted near the bridge and handed the reins of
    his horse to Ashlynne. From her vantage point on her horse s back, she watched her father and Parah
    cross the narrow wooden bridge to the compound that housed the prisoners. The small stone cells
    looked like blocks set in a row. It was Sunday, and the prisoners were all locked inside their cells. On
    any other Sunday, they would have been toiling in the bowels of the mine, but not today. Today her
    father was going to look them over. Parah started at the far end. Unlocking each door, he ordered the
    occupant to step outside. As soon as the prisoners emerged from their cells, the shackles on their hands
    and feet were activated, rendering them immobile. They were a motley crew, she thought sadly. Eyes
    empty of life, of hope, they stood like so many sheep waiting for the slaughter. Dressed in coarse leather
    breeches and sleeveless vests, their hair long and unkempt, they all looked alike. Except for Number
    Four. Ashlynne leaned forward in the saddle as the tall, dusky-skinned slave emerged from the darkness
    of his cell to blink against the early morning sunlight. She saw the way his jaw clenched as the bands
    encircling his hands and feet snapped together. They had not yet broken his spirit, she mused. Even after
    months of captivity and four weeks in solitary confinement, his eyes still blazed with anger and defiance.
    She wished she could hear what was being said, what questions her father asked as he walked up and
    down the row of prisoners, what answers they gave. None of the prisoners dared to meet her fathers
    eyes. Even Number Four looked properly subdued when her father stopped in front of him. She watched
    Number Four nod curtly, once, twice. Saw her father take Parah aside for a moment, and then her father
    was walking back toward her, his military upbringing obvious in the square set of his shoulders, the length
    of his stride, the self-confidence that was so much a part of him. She had always been proud of her
    father,