Read Online A Daring Sacrifice by Jody Hedlund - Free Book Online Page B

realize how nervous I was until halfway through the main course, when my heart finally subsided to its normal rhythm. I wasn’t at all surprised when the servants brought out a peacock that had been cooked and then reassembled with its feathers. Or when they delivered a pastry molded into the shape of a miniature castle.
    All the while I ate of the peacock—along with roasted swans, geese, and heron—my thoughts drifted to Thatch and Bulldog and the others huddled together in the cold fall air, their bellies rumbling from hunger. The ewerer brought us basins of water between courses. As I rinsed, I couldn’t stop looking at my hands, scrubbed free of the dirt that had become a way of life, or thinking of how my friends and I usually devoured every morsel of food and licked our fingers clean afterward.
    The warmth, the laughter, the unending dishes of food surrounded me and made me dizzy with reminders of my former life, which had been so cruelly wrenched away. The ache in my heart swelled painfully. If only my father had been less trusting . . . then perhaps he would still be alive and I would have been sitting in my own Great Hall dining with him.
    Tears burned the back of my eyes. I pushed away from the table and stood.
    Collin stopped in the middle of the conversation he was having with the man next to him and turned to me, his brow creasing.
    â€œI need a breath of air,” I said. “If you’ll excuse me.”
    Without waiting for his permission or his reaction, I made my escape out a side door. A harried scullion boy pointed me in the direction of the kitchen, which I knew would eventually lead me to an exit.
    I ducked into the busy kitchen, ignoring the stares of the servants who stopped stirring and cutting and basting to watch me race to the door. The blood from the butchering slickened the floor, along with feathers, and entrails the dogs hadn’t yet cleaned up. The heat from the two fireplaces dampened my forehead, so that when I finally burst free through the outer door, the cool evening air soothed my face.
    I plunged forward into the darkness of the orchard and gardens that surrounded the kitchen entrance and pushed aside my melancholy and guilt over the fact I’d halfway enjoyed the meal and wished to be eating it in my own Great Hall. Instead I tried to be angry, to return my thoughts to all the injustices I’d witnessed, especially the disparity between the nobility and the poor.
    I’d learned over the years that ’twas always better to be angry than sad.
    Besides, how had I ever lived in such opulence? So calloused, so unconcerned for those people who had nothing? Who went to bed every night cold and hungry?
    Even the lowest kitchen maid here had a better life than I had living in the forest.
    â€œJul—Lady Eleanora, wait,” came Collin’s soft call behind me.
    I didn’t stop but sped deeper into the orchard, the tangy scent of overripe apples filling each labored breath. His footsteps crunched louder behind mine until his hand finally gripped my arm, forcing me to halt. He lifted his torch high, illuminating my face.
    â€œLeave me alone,” I muttered while swiping at the unexpected wetness on my cheeks. Had I been crying? If so, it had been a long time since I’d allowed myself such a luxury. Tears were for weaklings, not for strong women like myself.
    Collin didn’t release my arm, but instead passed the torch to the servant who had followed him, and he then dragged me closer. “Are you running away already?” His voice hinted at humor.
    â€œIf I wanted to run away, I would, and there’s nothing you’d be able to do to stop me.”
    He chuckled, but ceased when he saw my face and the traces of tears lingering in my eyelashes. “You’re upset,” he said, lifting fingers to my cheeks and touching a tear I’d missed.
    I brushed his hand away and wiped at my cheeks again. I glanced at the servant.