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

child hissed.
    Chloë wasn’t sure what she meant,
nor even who the child was. All she knew was that this pasty, ill-looking child
had somehow found her way into the chamber.  She reached out to gently take the
child’s arm but her fingers passed through nothingness. In the next instant,
the child vanished. 
    Chloë fled the chamber in terror.
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    It was late in the night and the
keep of Pendragon was finally settled in to sleep for the evening.  A bright
full moon hung over the landscape, bathing the dark stoned castle in silver
light.  Upon the wooden parapets at the top of the walls, Keir stood with
Michael and Lucan, watching the landscape that was so brightly lit.   They had
been walking the walls for a couple of hours, watching, making sure Ingilby
hadn’t somehow followed them. 
    Keir had put Chloë in the chamber
that had once belonged to his children. It hadn’t been used since.  He’d shut
the door after that fateful day and didn’t open it again until just a few weeks
ago when a nest of bees had built a hive in the ceiling. It had been a strange
experience for him to enter the chamber where Frances and Merritt had played;
toys had still been scattered on the floor and one of the little beds had been
partially burned by the siege. He had steeled himself to toss the scattered
clothes and toys into the big wardrobe shared by the children, weeping silent
tears when he had held the dress of his daughter that still had food stains on
it. When he smelled it, he could still smell her. It broke his heart.
    But he tossed everything into the
wardrobe and slammed the door as his men smoked the bees out of the chamber. 
He had only returned to the chamber this night to admit Chloë, who looked
around the chamber with one half-burned bed with big, apprehensive eyes. But
she did nothing more than thank him, even though the linens were dusty and the
room hadn’t been cleaned out since the day of that fateful siege three years
ago.  Keir suddenly felt very bad for subjecting her to such filth and
discomfort, and had two of his soldiers carry out the burned bed as Chloë and
Keir stood there and watched. He promised her that the chamber would be
thoroughly cleaned in the morning but she had smiled bravely and insisted it
was fine as it was. 
    He knew it was a gracious lie,
which made him feel worse.  He’d had his men bring up the big copper tub and
fill it with hot water, providing Chloë with the only soap he had, a lumpy bar
that smelled of pine.  All the while, he remembered the big wardrobe in his
chamber that still contained his wife’s possessions but he couldn’t bring
himself to open the doors and go through it, not even to provide Chloë with
something of comfort.  That big, oak wardrobe with the carved doors remained
closed, a silent testimony to Keir’s agony that he was unwilling to explore. 
Madeleine’s possessions were to remain untouched, like a frozen tribute to her
memory. It was all better left untouched.
    So Keir had left Chloë with a
steaming tub, a lump of smelly soap, and naught much else.  The invasion into
his children’s chamber had him reeling again, grief clawing at him as he lost
himself in his duties upon the battlements. He thought he was doing quite well
at fighting off the memories until he heard a scream emitting from the keep.
Startled, he looked at Michael as if to confirm the man had heard it also when
the scream came again, louder.  The two of them bolted for the parapet stairs.
    Lucan, on the opposite wall, had
heard the screaming also. He and several soldiers were flying off of the walls,
heading for the keep just as Keir and Michael were. Just as they reached the
stairs, Chloë came shooting out of the keep as if the Devil himself was chasing
her. 
    She flew down the old wooden
stairs, screaming at the top of her lungs.  Michael was the closest one to her;
he reached out to grab her but she swung her little fists