Valiant by Sarah McGuire Read Free Book Online

bowl of milk-soaked bread beneath his chinwhile he gripped a spoon in his fist and brought it, shaking, to his mouth.
    The Tailor’s hands had always been strong, his long fingers nimble. He’d been able to guide a needle through any sort of fabric with stitches so fine you could hardly see them. Now he could hardly move the spoon.
    The Tailor would never hold a needle again—I knew it.
    And I would never be free. I’d have to play his apprentice until he died. He’d dragged me to Reggen, and his illness had trapped me here, pinned to this garret room.
    I’d been a fool to think I could get away.
    I stood slowly, still holding the Tailor’s breakfast, the milk dancing against the lip of the bowl.
    I didn’t turn when the door slammed, and Will thundered up the stairs.
    I heard Will slide to a stop. “Sir?” he whispered.
    I stared at the Tailor as the shaking spread through me.
    “Sir?” said Will, louder this time.
    I dropped the bowl and turned on my heel, dashing toward the stairs.
    “Wait!” Will stepped in front of me. “Where are you going, Sir?”
    I took him by the shoulders and shook him—shook him because I had to leave. If I talked, I’d fall to pieces and never be able to gather them up again. But I released Will just as quickly, horrified at what I’d done.
    “Stay with the Tailor,” I croaked.
    I ran down the stairs and into the street. I’d go to the willows and sit in the shade where I’d buried Mama’s music box. I’d pretend I could hear her voice and her songs.
    I darted through the crowded streets, desperate to be outside Reggen’s walls.
    Yet I slid to a stop when I reached the gate. A single rider, dressed in black with a horse-skull helmet, galloped over the bridge. He held a staff decorated with bones, which made a hollow, clattering sound, like teeth chattering.
    They aren’t human bones
, I thought.
They can’t be
. But the skull on the top of the staff? That was human.
    The black rider’s horse reared as it approached the crowds, but he urged it forward. As he plunged into the midst of the people near the gate, the rider scattered pale leaves over the crowd. I looked down the road, anxious to see if other riders followed. No one.
    He was only one rider, but I couldn’t control the dread rising inside me.
    I’d visit the willows another day. I needed to know what the rider had scattered.
    As I pushed into the crowd, I saw that some people held pieces of parchment. Snatches of conversations boiled up around me.
    “Who’s this duke? Was he the one with the skull helmet?”
    “Says he has a giant army.”
    “Who’s foolish enough to admit he has a
small
army?”
    “Princess Lissa would never have him—”
    I plucked a sheet out of someone’s hands and read, all thought of the willows gone.
    The Duke of the Western Steeps, Heir to the Ancient Emperor’s Crown, Holder of the Eternal Heart greets the city of Reggen:
    As Heir to the Ancient Emperor, I am the true king of your city, and I have come to claim it. I wish you no harm and would secure my throne through the most peaceable way possible: marriage. I will rule Reggen with Princess Lissa by my side
.
    If you deny my rightful place in your city, I will claim it through other means. I march before an army of giants, descendants of the giants that laid Reggen’s foundation stones. At my command, they will be the army that dismantles your walls
.
    I will greet you as either your King or your Enemy in three days’ time
.
    Choose wisely
.
    I reread the parchment, trying to make sense of it. I knew the Western Steeps—we’d skirted them on our long journey to Reggen. They were a stretch of desolate land far to the north, next to the Belmor Mountains: grim, gray peaks thatrose straight out of the sea. Few explorers traveled their barren passes to reach the ocean … and the ancient emperor had ruled Reggen and the River Cities centuries ago.
    But I’d never heard of the Eternal Heart in history or legend or