Read Online Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) by Kathryn Le Veque - Free Book Online Page A

sword.”
    Chloë giggled and returned to her
food, a faint blush to her cheeks that Keir found enchanting.
    He let the subject die and the
conversation along with it.  He continued to cut meat and hand it to her,
watching her slender white fingers accept the morsels, his gaze moving over her
face and hair as if he could not take his eyes off of her. The truth was that
he couldn’t.  Chloë seemed to captivate him like no one ever had and much to
his chagrin, he realized he wasn’t resisting as he had been. His sense of self-preservation
was fading fast and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
    He tried not to hate himself for
it.
     
    ***
     
    It wasn’t much by way of comfort
but it was all she was offered.  Keir had taken Chloë to a rather large chamber
that was a dusty, disheveled mess, with two small beds in it, one of them
half-burned and crumpled against the wall.  Keir had ordered a couple of men to
remove the burnt bed but had said little else about the room or its state as he
had his men bring in a big, dented copper tub.   
    A bucket brigade filled the tub
with steaming water and Keir provided Chloë with a lumpy, misshapen bar of
white soap that smelled heavily of pine.   When the tub was full, he left her
without a word, shutting the door softly behind him while she stood in the
center of the room, wondering why he seemed to cold and withdrawn again. He had
been charming and warm in the hall, feeding her until she was full, before
escorting her to this room that seemed dark and shadowy, even with a fire
blazing brightly in the hearth.
    Thoughts lingering on Keir, Chloë
had taken her bath and scrubbed herself from the top of her red head to the
bottom of her little feet.  She didn’t have anything to dry off with and she
noticed the big wardrobe against the wall, shielded by the shadows of the room,
but she didn’t feel comfortable opening it, so she used her surcoat to dry her
hair and body before the fire. Then she laid the surcoat carefully in front of
the dusty hearth to dry it out.
    Slipping back into her soft
shift, Chloë wrapped up in her cloak and called for the soldiers to remove the
tub for her sister, which they silently and efficiently accomplished.  When
they were gone, she bolted the door and lay down on the small, lumpy bed.
    Exhausted, she fell into a heavy
sleep, only to awaken when the hearth was burning low and great streams of
white moonlight were pouring in through the lancet window.   As she rolled
over, she caught a glimpse of something at the foot of the bed and in the
darkness, her eyes adjusted to the sight of a small girl.
    Startled, Chloë sat up and stared
at the child. She was no more than four or five years of age, with long pale
hair and a very pale face. It took Chloë a moment to realize that she was the
same color of the moonlight, standing in the darkness at the end of the bed and
staring at Chloë with big, bottomless black eyes.  Chloë was positive she was
dreaming and she closed her eyes tightly, opening them again to find that the
little girl had moved to stand directly next to the bed.  Her eyes were big
black voids in her pasty face and Chloë pulled the cloak more tightly around
her body, feeling an icy chill envelope her.
    “G-greetings,” she whispered
timidly. “Who are you?”
    The little girl just stared at
her.  Then she lifted a wispy arm and pointed towards the door.  Apprehensive
and confused, Chloë looked to where the little girl was pointing and shook her
head. She had no idea what the child meant.
    “Do you live here?” she asked
softly. “Does your father work here?”
    The little girl lowered her bony
arm and looked at her again.  The chill around Chloë grew colder and she could
see her breath fogging in the air.  Her skin began to bump up as icy fingers
grasped at her.  She could feel horror and had no idea why. The little girl
looked up at her with her big black eyes, dark circled and grim.
    “Me-Me,” the