The Gauntlet by Karen Chance Read Free Book Online Page A

an
ancient, graceful design etched onto her inner wrist.
    Her fingers traced the pattern slowly,
reverently. It wasn’t finished, with only two of the three spirals
showing dark blue against her skin. But there was no doubt what it
was. “The triskelion,” she whispered.
    “The what?” the vampire asked.
    She looked down, in the direction of his
voice, and found him sprawled on the floor for some reason. Her
head was spinning too much to even wonder why. “It’s the sigil used
by the leaders of our covens.”
    His eyes narrowed. “A moment ago, you claimed
to be of no importance, and now you tell me you’re a coven
leader?”
    “But that’s just it, I’m not! At least…”
Gillian had a sudden flash of memory, of the Great Mother’s hand
gripping her arm, of how she had refused to let go even in
death--and of the ease with which the elements had come to her aid
thereafter. She had put it down to the staff magnifying her magic.
But no amount of power should have allowed her to call an element
that was not hers.
    “At least what?” he asked, getting up with a
frustrated look on his face.
    “I think there’s a chance that the Great
Mother…that she may have—” she stopped, because it sounded absurd
to say it out loud—to even think it. But what other explanation was
there? “I think she may have passed her position on to me.”
    She expected shock, awe, disbelief, all the
things she was feeling. But the vampire’s expression didn’t change,
except to look slightly confused. And then his head tilted at the
sound of some muttering outside. It was too low for her ears to
make out, but he didn’t appear to have that problem.
    “They’ve sent for a wardsmith,” he said
grimly. “Before he arrives and they rush the room and kill us both,
would you kindly explain what that means?”
    “They offered you safe passage,” Gillian
reminded him.
    “And I know exactly how much faith to put in
that,” he said mockingly, hopping up onto the table. “Now tell
me .”
    She took a deep breath. “Every coven has a
leader, called the Great Mother or the Eldest. In time of peace,
she judges disputes, allocates resources and participates in the
assembly of elders at yearly meetings. In time of war, she leads
the coven in battle.”
    He’d been trying to press an ear against the
ceiling, but at that he looked down. “And you agreed?” he asked
incredulously.
    “She asked if I was willing to fight for my
own,” Gillian said defensively. “I thought she meant Elinor, to get
her out of this…”
    “So of course you said yes!”
    “I didn’t know she was putting me in
charge!”
    “That is why the mages marked us,” he said,
as if something had finally made sense. “I wondered why they were
focused on you when there were dozens of prisoners closer to the
gates.”
    Gillian shook her head. “They don’t want me,
they want this.” She held out the arm with the ward.
    “For what purpose?”
    “The triskelion gives the Great Mother the
ability, in times of danger, to…to borrow… part of the magic of
everyone under her control,” she said, struggling for words he
would understand. “It’s meant to unite the coven in a time of
crisis, allowing its leader to wield an awesome amount of power,
all directed toward a single purpose. It’s why the Circle fears
them so much, why they’ve hunted them so--”
    She broke off as her voice suddenly gave out.
The vampire frowned and pulled a flask from under his doublet,
bending down to hand it to her. She eyed it warily, thinking of
Winnie and her brew, but it turned out to be ale. It was body-warm
and completely flat, and easily the best thing she’d ever
tasted.
    He balanced on the edge of the table in a
perilous-looking crouch, regarding her narrowly. “If the ward is
that powerful, why did the jailers not take it off the witch once
they had her in their grasp?”
    “They didn’t know who she was,” Gillian
gasped, forcing herself to slow down before she