Read Online The Lord-Protector's Daughter by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online Page A

invaders and brigands alike.
    What intrigued and annoyed Mykella was that there was nothing about how Mykel the Great had accomplished anything. There was but a single paragraph dismissing the legend that he had been a Dagger of the Ancients, and that didn’t even explain what a Dagger of the Ancients was supposed to have been. Mykella suspected that dismissal was proof that he had been just that, but what a Dagger of the Ancients was remained undescribed. Kiedryn’s explanation had conveyed nothing, and her own brief searches of the archives had revealed nothing she did not already know, except that mention of the proclamation that Mykel had signed making Rachyla his immediate heir, which had come to nothing since she had died first.
    Mykella tightened her lips as she looked around the parlor with its green upholstered armchairs and settees, the dark oak side tables, and the green and blue heavy, if slightly worn, carpet with the Lord-Protector’s crest in the middle. Rachylana had not joined her sisters after dinner. She had eaten little at table, claiming she felt unwell. Mykella had sensed her physical discomfort. Jeraxylt and her father rarely joined them in the evenings, not with their other evening interests. So the youngest and eldest daughters had the parlor to themselves.
    The book still in her lap, Mykella stared at the darkness beyond the window, a darkness broken only by the scattered lights of Tempre, those that could be seen from the second level of the palace. She knew that unseen danger surrounded them all, especially her father and brother, not only from the warning of the Ancient, but from what she had begun to sense. Yet no one else seemed to feel the slightest sense of danger or unease. Was she imagining it all? But if she weren’t, why didn’t her father or her sisters see anything at all, especially her father?
    After each of the times she had visited the Table, Mykella had felt that she had gained something in what she could feel or sense. Yet…how could merely sensing or feeling more than others save her land? She thought about Berenyt’s momentary reaction once more.
    Finally, she spoke. “Salyna…I need your help.”
    â€œI’d be happy to, but…” Her younger sister’s forehead wrinkled up into a puzzled expression. “…just what do you want me to do?”
    â€œI just want you to look out the window for a little while, and then look back at me. Take your time looking out the window.”
    â€œLook out the window and back at you? That’s all?”
    â€œPlease…just do it.”
    â€œI can do that.” Salyna’s tone expressed puzzlement, but she stared out the window.
    Mykella concentrated on trying to create an image of the armchair in which she sat—vacant, without her in it, the lace doily just slightly disarrayed…
    â€œDon’t do that!” Salyna’s words were low, but intense.
    â€œWhat did I do?” asked Mykella, releasing the image of the empty chair.
    â€œIt…it was awful. You weren’t there. I knew you had to be…but you weren’t.”
    Mykella almost wished she hadn’t tried the shield. “I hid. I did it to see if I could move so quietly that you couldn’t see me. What else could I have done?” She could sense Salyna’s confusion, as well as her sister’s feeling that Mykella couldn’t have gone anywhere else.
    For a time, Salyna looked at Mykella. Finally, she asked, “What’s happened to you?”
    â€œNothing,” Mykella replied.
    â€œDon’t tell me that. You haven’t been the same for the last week. You look at Jeraxylt—when he’s not looking—as if he were roasting baby hares alive. You aren’t pleased with Rachylana, and you’ve asked Father more questions this week than in the last year. Now, you’re practicing hiding, and hiding from me.”
    â€œI’m worried,”