The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) by Trish Mercer Read Free Book Online

moons, and was so
focused she hadn’t got Shem’s ranking wrong in weeks.
    “ Thanks,” he said simply
and took the plate she offered him, with four rolls still
steaming.
    He was grateful the eating room was mostly
empty, and that the sun’s light hadn’t reached it yet. The muted
silence was restful as he bit into warm roll, honey glaze sliding
down his fingers—
    “ Well, hello my old
friend!”
    Shem stopped chewing and looked up at the
creature that emitted the crooning noise which destroyed his
peace.
    “ Sareen. What a surprise.”
He tried to sound pleasant, but it was as useless as being happy
about discovering a hole in your tooth. “So you made it back to
Edge after all, I see.”
    Again he knew what society expected, but he
was depleted of energy and even good manners. The best he could
manage was to gesture to the chair across from him at the
table.
    Sareen either wasn’t too discerning, or she
was simply that desperate that she cheerfully accepted his
halfhearted invitation and sat down with a variety of tinkling
noises. The multiple chains on her arm clanked together like an
accident at the blacksmith’s. She leaned forward adoringly, chin
resting on her hands in an odd manner which she likely thought was
alluring, and fluttered her eyelashes as if something was stuck on
them.
    Shem struggled with a yawn. It was too early
in the morning.
    Sareen sat up, insulted. “I was going to say
you’re looking quite well, but you’re a bit baggy under the eyes.
Maybe even have a black eye forming . . . have an eventful night?”
Something crisp in her tone confused Shem. There were likely a
multitude of meanings to her question, but he didn’t bother to work
them out.
    “ A bit,” he said as he
shoved the last of his roll into his mouth. “Always something going
on around here,” he garbled.
    “ Well, you still look quite
. . .” she tilted her head in evaluation, “extraordinary. Always
were a fine example of manhood and soldiering.” She raised her
eyebrows suggestively, but Shem didn’t know what she was
suggesting, especially at this hour.
    Sareen hadn’t changed much over the years.
She was the first and only girl he’d ever kissed—not by his choice,
but as a requirement of the first Strongest Soldier Race. Yet he
was fairly confident he wasn’t the only male she’d ever kissed.
Women like her didn’t realize that stories got around about women like her . Sareen was as attractive to Shem now
as she had been a dozen years ago, which meant a mud puddle was
more enticing, and likely cleaner.
    She was waiting for his compliment, but all
he noticed was that she’d put on some weight over the years, making
her rounder and softer, but he didn’t know how to politely say,
“And you’ve become fat, but it works for you.” Then again, it did
make her abundant cleavage rather unappetizing. Her dark hair was a
mass of something on her head, probably intended to look sultry,
but was sloppy, and her eyes were clouded.
    All he could come up with was, “And you look
well too.”
    Realizing that was all she was going to get,
she said, “I’m surprised the village looks so good. I wasn’t going
to come back until I heard the reports that Edge was rebuilding
quite nicely.”
    “ Soldiers are doing most of
the work,” Shem said dismissively. He picked up his second
roll.
    “ They’re also rebuilding
some of the shops,” Sareen mentioned. “I was thinking of buying a
small one to sell books in.”
    Shem shrugged and chewed. “Already have a
bookseller. One of the few shops that survived.”
    Sareen rolled her eyes dramatically as if she
were seventeen again. “But what he sells is so dull. There are new
books, you know. Exciting ones. All about women and men and . . .
relationships.”
    Shem noticed something happening around his
leg, as if a cat was marking him on the outside of his boot.
    He glanced down to notice Sareen’s bare foot
rubbing his leg. Since that was the oddest thing he’d