Sacred Knight of the Veil by T C Southwell Read Free Book Online Page A

stark against his pale skin.
    When she met his icy, silver-grey eyes, she received a familiar jolt that sent thrills down her spine. Strange, beautiful eyes, as frigid and pale as a midwinter sky, the irises ringed with dark grey. He remained immobile, watching her as a cat might observe a fat mouse straying into his reach, his face expressionless, his arms folded. Becoming aware that her mouth was open, she closed it, but could not tear her eyes from his face. He broke his motionless stance and glanced away into the darkness.
    "Blade..." Her voice shook as disbelief, shock and intense joy warred within her.
    "Hello, Chiana."
    His soft voice seemed to caress her name in the seductive way that was so unaffected, and totally at odds with his menacing demeanour. She crossed the space that separated them in three light strides and flung her arms around his neck. He stiffened in surprise, then his hands flashed up to grip her wrists and try to tug her arms free. She clung to him with all her strength, the candle almost singeing her eyebrows. With her face pressed to the warm skin of his neck, she could smell the faint scent of wood smoke that clung to his hair, a legacy of taprooms.
    A wave of intense sadness and joy engulfed her together, making her smile while her eyes burnt with tears. The bittersweet joy of his presence was almost too much to bear. A great weight lifted off her, and warm strength rushed into her, as if he was the font from which her life force sprang. He gave up trying to free himself, although he could easily have done so had he chosen to bruise her. She clung to him for as long as she dared, until his impatient sigh forced her to release him and step back.
    "My Lord."
    Chiana lowered her eyes and sank down in a far deeper curtsy than she had ever accorded Kerrion. As she rose on trembling legs, she noted the stiff bow he granted her, then put the candle on a table when her hand shook. The rush of adrenalin and emotions his presence brought made her weak and giddy. She had almost forgotten the affect he had on her. Dozens of questions clamoured to be asked, and she fought the need to burble.
    "How did you get in here? How long have you been here?"
    He shrugged. "Does it matter?"
    "No, I suppose not."
    Chiana turned to light another lamp, longing to study him. The extra light made him squint and frown, but revealed more familiar particulars. He seemed to be wearing the same tight black leather outfit she had first seen him in, with its fine chain mail that protected his torso and the high collar that guarded his neck. He did not look like a forty-five-year-old man, but one of no more than thirty. Nothing about him had changed. He might have stepped straight out of her memories. She moved closer, hardly able to believe her eyes. He still possessed a boy's smooth pale skin, unblemished by adolescent pimples or the sprouting of a beard.
    The Cotti had denied him that when they had stripped him of his manhood at twelve. Yet he was still a man, even though he lacked most of the masculine traits that coarsened the average male visage. In fact, it only heightened his strange allure, and had made him the deadliest assassin to ever walk the streets of Jashimari. Only she, Queen Minna-Satu, Kerrion and his former mentor, Talon, knew that the secret of Blade's success was that he had lured many of his victims to their death disguised as a woman. She had often tried to imagine what he would look like in his disguise, and found the image disconcerting.
    Blade sighed and walked over to a table to pour himself a cup of wine from the bottle placed there for her nightcap. Realising that she had been staring at him for some time, lost in thought, she pulled herself together.
    "You have not changed."
    "Shamsara's curse."
    The speech she had prepared for their first meeting had deserted her, leaving her floundering for something intelligent to say. She longed to embrace him again, if only to reassure herself that he was real, but