Read Online Timeless by Shelly Thacker - Free Book Online

richly embroidered, silk-lined mantles fastened by huge gold brooches. Oddly enough, none looked particularly old.
    In fact, most appeared to be as young as Valbrand, whom she guessed was no more than thirty.
    When the last of the fourteen took his place, every man present bowed to them, almost as one. Silence reigned, broken only by the splashing of the waterfall a few yards away.
    Then one of the elders stepped forward and addressed the gathering. From his tone, it sounded like a most serious, solemn speech. Avril’s pulse slowed a bit. She even managed to take a deep breath.
    All of this formality and ceremony seemed a bit excessive—not to mention unnecessary—if it was truly rape they intended. And none of the elders carried weapons of any kind.
    She struggled to make sense of his words, frustrated that she could not understand what was being said and what it had to do with her and the other captives. This language was so foreign to her ear, she could not begin to even guess its roots. It was rough, guttural, yet it had a regular, almost musical cadence. Was it Germanic? Slavic?
    The first man finished his address and stepped back, and another came forward, this one holding a sparkling silver chalice. Lifting his arms, he spoke in an impassioned tone, his voice booming up to the night sky. He used the cup to gesture to the waterfall, to the moon, then to each woman in turn. Reaching into his cloak with his free hand, he withdrew a handful of grain that he sprinkled across the ground.
    Avril’s heart kept skipping beats. “What is—”
    “ Silence ,” Valbrand whispered harshly.
    The man with the chalice returned to his place and a third elder came forward, from the center of the fourteen. This one had cropped blond hair and a full beard, and carried himself with the assured, dignified air of a lord, mayhap even a king. A chain of gold encircled his neck, its massive links supporting a huge jewel of midnight blue.
    Not saying a word, he strode to the far end of the line of captors and women, studying each pair in turn, his face set in harsh lines. The men in the clearing fell so silent that Avril could hear the beating wings of a bird taking flight in the forest.
    He paused only briefly, before the English girl, then continued down the row—until he reached her and Valbrand. His gaze fastened on her for a moment, his eyes a clear, pale blue that made Avril gasp. With his sky-colored eyes, chiseled features, and golden hair, this man bore a striking resemblance to her captor.
    She returned his probing stare in full measure, not glancing away or even blinking. She did not care who he was; she would not bow down to him or any man here. Lifting her chin, she steeled herself to face whatever might come.
    But to her surprise, one corner of his mouth curved upward—so slightly that if she had not been standing only inches away, she would not have noticed—and the look in his eyes softened almost imperceptibly.
    For an instant, his mien could only be described as... approving.
    Almost kindly.
    The impression lasted but a heartbeat, for he glanced at Hauk and the two regarded each other with cool expressions, the air between them all but freezing with iciness. Then Hauk lowered his gaze and bowed his head. A muscle flexed in his tanned cheek. His entire body seemed rigid, with some emotion Avril could not puzzle out.
    If the two men were indeed related, she thought, it seemed there was little love lost between them.
    Turning on his heel, the blue-eyed elder motioned for one of the other fourteen to join him. The man he had summoned came forth carrying a small, ancient-looking chest, and the two walked to the far end of the line of couples.
    Standing before the first pair—a flaxen-haired young warrior and the frightened Moorish girl, who was still crying—the leader intoned what sounded like yet another serious, solemn speech. Someone from the crowd stepped up behind the pair, bending to speak to the girl in low