Read Online The Dragons' Chosen by Gwen Dandridge - Free Book Online
Authors: Gwen Dandridge
Ads: Link
using a stick to balance. I firmly pointed back to the log and shook my head.
No longer was I the fragile princess who required everyone to wait on her. She was gone and would never return.
Winter whickered as I brought his morning bran. He plunged his head deep in the bucket once I placed it down. Dumpling stamped his feathered hooves and nudged me with his huge head, encouraging me to hurry with his food.
It was a good thing that Dumpling was steady. He snorted once as the air before him spun when Chris materialized almost under his nose. I stood still, holding Dumpling’s feed, not sure what to say or do, though the relief and distress on my face must have shown. She rushed to my side, wearing a sleeveless chemise that declared, “Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition.” A shawl of some kind wrapped around her arms. Her legs were bare from knee to thigh with a short strip of clothing above that one couldn’t call a skirt, and boots that laced up the front to her knees.
She looked at my face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was so caught up with exams and papers, then I couldn’t find the card and….”
I couldn’t stop a tear from trickling down. Here was the only person who had given me reason to hope.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw my men gather about us but my attention remained with Chris.
Her voice lowered to a whisper, a plea. “I couldn’t accept that you were real. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed my hand and I let her, her hand so tight on mine she almost snapped in half the golden card she cradled within her fingers. It seemed silly to stand on formality under the circumstances.
“Step away, Your Highness.” The captain’s voice interrupted our reunion. I could see him evaluating her, an unknown, dangerous element compounding the complexity of his task. He glared at her and flicked his fingers to ward off evil. “Begone, witch.”
Chris held on to my hand. My fingers ached from the strength of her grip. I waved the men back. “A friend, not a witch.” I smiled, pleased with that sudden awareness. I did have a friend. I looked at the men around me; perhaps more than one.
The captain’s hand now on his sword, he moved closer, no more than a foot away. George and Samuel were a half step behind him with grins on their faces as they watched the stand-off. Ethan, Laurence and the younger men looked at Chris with a mixture of embarrassment, terror and interest.
“Captain,” I repeated. “She’s a friend from the land of Berkeley, but nonetheless a friend. She is not a witch. Not a danger to me or to you.” He fondled his sword handle, his fingers easing it out of the scabbard. “Captain,” I insisted yet again. I moved in front of Chris, still holding her hand. “In this you will heed me.”
Captain Markus finally nodded, not convinced, but unwilling to gainsay me. He moved his hand off the sword. “Well, whatever she is, witch, demon or friend, if she is a comfort to you she can come. But get some clothes on her before we have a riot.”
“Perhaps ‘uprising’ would be the better word,” Jeremy muttered and the other men chuckled.
Chris grinned, blowing a kiss to the men before dismissing the captain with an under-her-breath “fascist pig.” I was too relieved and distracted to decipher yet another of her odd expressions, but it didn’t sound complimentary. As he left, she turned to me. “Who died and made him God?”
I attempted an explanation. “Markus is an honorable and capable warrior; a fine commander, but he has been a soldier all his life. He’s neither accustomed to women or to magic. It can’t be easy for him.”
“That is such a cop-out.” She frowned, following him with her eyes. “But speaking of pigs,” Chris looked about her, “you did at least bring one, didn’t you?” she asked. “I don’t see any here.”
I sighed. “Yes, she’s tethered over behind the horses. I don’t think this will work. No one, not even a particularly
No longer was I the fragile princess who required everyone to wait on her. She was gone and would never return.
Winter whickered as I brought his morning bran. He plunged his head deep in the bucket once I placed it down. Dumpling stamped his feathered hooves and nudged me with his huge head, encouraging me to hurry with his food.
It was a good thing that Dumpling was steady. He snorted once as the air before him spun when Chris materialized almost under his nose. I stood still, holding Dumpling’s feed, not sure what to say or do, though the relief and distress on my face must have shown. She rushed to my side, wearing a sleeveless chemise that declared, “Women who seek to be equal with men lack ambition.” A shawl of some kind wrapped around her arms. Her legs were bare from knee to thigh with a short strip of clothing above that one couldn’t call a skirt, and boots that laced up the front to her knees.
She looked at my face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was so caught up with exams and papers, then I couldn’t find the card and….”
I couldn’t stop a tear from trickling down. Here was the only person who had given me reason to hope.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw my men gather about us but my attention remained with Chris.
Her voice lowered to a whisper, a plea. “I couldn’t accept that you were real. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed my hand and I let her, her hand so tight on mine she almost snapped in half the golden card she cradled within her fingers. It seemed silly to stand on formality under the circumstances.
“Step away, Your Highness.” The captain’s voice interrupted our reunion. I could see him evaluating her, an unknown, dangerous element compounding the complexity of his task. He glared at her and flicked his fingers to ward off evil. “Begone, witch.”
Chris held on to my hand. My fingers ached from the strength of her grip. I waved the men back. “A friend, not a witch.” I smiled, pleased with that sudden awareness. I did have a friend. I looked at the men around me; perhaps more than one.
The captain’s hand now on his sword, he moved closer, no more than a foot away. George and Samuel were a half step behind him with grins on their faces as they watched the stand-off. Ethan, Laurence and the younger men looked at Chris with a mixture of embarrassment, terror and interest.
“Captain,” I repeated. “She’s a friend from the land of Berkeley, but nonetheless a friend. She is not a witch. Not a danger to me or to you.” He fondled his sword handle, his fingers easing it out of the scabbard. “Captain,” I insisted yet again. I moved in front of Chris, still holding her hand. “In this you will heed me.”
Captain Markus finally nodded, not convinced, but unwilling to gainsay me. He moved his hand off the sword. “Well, whatever she is, witch, demon or friend, if she is a comfort to you she can come. But get some clothes on her before we have a riot.”
“Perhaps ‘uprising’ would be the better word,” Jeremy muttered and the other men chuckled.
Chris grinned, blowing a kiss to the men before dismissing the captain with an under-her-breath “fascist pig.” I was too relieved and distracted to decipher yet another of her odd expressions, but it didn’t sound complimentary. As he left, she turned to me. “Who died and made him God?”
I attempted an explanation. “Markus is an honorable and capable warrior; a fine commander, but he has been a soldier all his life. He’s neither accustomed to women or to magic. It can’t be easy for him.”
“That is such a cop-out.” She frowned, following him with her eyes. “But speaking of pigs,” Chris looked about her, “you did at least bring one, didn’t you?” she asked. “I don’t see any here.”
I sighed. “Yes, she’s tethered over behind the horses. I don’t think this will work. No one, not even a particularly
Similar Books
