Read Online Dragonwitch by Anne Elisabeth Stengl - Free Book Online

anyone else’s. Only yours. This makes them interesting.”
    His words pierced the numbness she had felt since meeting Lady Mintha, since coming to Gaheris, since the moment her father had told her she would wed and did not consult her wishes on the matter. They pierced down to a warm, living part of her spirit that she had scarcely been aware existed.
    Tell him what you think! her rebellious side cried. Tell him!
    He’ll believe you such a fool, her practical side rejoined.
    Tell him anyway! Tell him!
    So she said, “I think you’re wrong.”
    Then she blushed and pressed a hand to her mouth. Never in her life had she dared to cross the will or opinions of anyone! The glory of freedom surged in her heart. Before she could stifle the words, she repeated, “I think you’re wrong!”
    The Chronicler laughed a genuine laugh, and the great stones of the Wall crumbled away in that sound. “Do you, now?” he said, his eyes sparkling with mirth and, wonderfully, interest. “Why is that?”
    â€œI think . . .” Blood pounded so hard in Leta’s head, she could scarcely get the words out. “I think the House of Lights is real. I think it stands somewhere in our own country, hidden until the time is ripe. I think the Smallman is a real person, and he will find Etanun’s sword, and he will find the hidden door. He will open up the House of Lights so that we will hear the Sphere Songs again!”
    â€œSilly superstition?” the Chronicler said, but it was less a rebuke than a suggestion for her to consider.
    â€œMaybe,” she replied. “Maybe not. But I believe it.”
    â€œWhat you believe cannot affect the truth of the matter.”
    â€œCannot the same be said for unbelief?”
    Their eyes met. She saw appreciation written across his face. More than that, she saw what she thought might be pride. Gazing upon her, the Chronicler saw only something that pleased, that inspired.
    â€œA good point, m’lady, and a fair one,” said he. “I will think on it.”
    Her heart beat faster still, and Leta thought she might explode with the sudden power she felt tingling through her body. Let Lady Mintha say what she will! Let Alistair ignore her existence! Let her father force her into a marriage and treat her like bargaining baggage! She knew now what none of them knew.
    She was Leta. And she had a mind all her own.
    â€œI disagree with you, you know,” said the Chronicler, still smiling.
    â€œAnd I disagree with you,” Leta replied, full of the joy of contradiction.

4
    T HE T WELVE ARRIVED SOON AFTER . They are Cren Cru’s servants, his slaves, perhaps his worshippers. They passed through our gates uninvited, breaking barriers that should have been impassable. But once the Mound appears, who can stop him or his work? His Twelve marched into our land, the tramping feet echoing on our unwalked streets, and the Sky People flew into their towers and hid from those blood-cold gazes. Each warrior carried with him—or her, for I saw females in their number—a sharp, bronze stone. They arranged these in a circle around the Mound. The stones glittered in the daylight until the sun himself must have shuddered at the sight.
    Cren Cru was come indeed. And when he made his demands, Etalpalli trembled.

    Through the Wood Between walked a Faerie who wore the form of a cat and who didn’t give a whisker’s twitch whether anyone believed in his existence or not.
    This was the prevailing attitude among fey folk, truth be known. Amid all their philosophical contemplations, many mortals overlooked the fact that Faeries, on the whole, were just as happy to be disbelieved in as believed in.
    An attitude of disbelief was easy enough to encourage in this age, when men of letters were few and libraries sparse. Faeries were by and large dismissed as imaginative fancies brought on by deeply instilled superstition and possibly a