Read Online The Night Dance by Suzanne Weyn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Weyn
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released the lovely, young, green-eyed woman he held.
C HAPTER F IFTEEN
Rowena
Was this another vision? The scene Rowena had just witnessed was so unbelievable—what else could it be? Surely her mystery knight was not actually there at that very moment, staring down at her with an expression of complete amazement.
“Are you a witch?” he demanded gruffly, shifting Excalibur back into his good hand.
“I could not say,” Rowena answered truthfully. Up until the other day she would have been sure that she was no such thing; she might even have taken offense at the question. But these visions of him combined with her ability to see into the strange bowl had made her wonder about herself.
“If I am a witch,” she added, “I mean you no harm.”
“Then you did not send that soldier made of rocks to attack me?”
“Never!” she cried. “That was truly frightening. This forest is full of strangeness.”
“And you are not a part of the strangeness?” he asked warily.
“The first I knew of any strange power in me was when I saw you in battle.”
He backed up in surprise. She knew from his stunned expression that he understood—even if he could not quite believe it—what she was talking about. He studied her face as if deciding if he trusted her.
“I saw you, as well,” he told her after a moment.
She smiled at him, appreciating his honesty. “Then are you a wizard?” she asked, teasing.
“Can’t you see that I am a beggar?” he countered.
“A wizard might disguise himself as a beggar…or as a knight. It does not answer my question,” she replied.
He relaxed and loosened his grip on the extravagantly jeweled sword that he held. “I am not a wizard. I have no explanation for why we seem so connected in this strange way.”
“Neither have I,” she said as she sat on the boulder.
Replacing his sword, he sat beside her.
“What is your name?” she asked him.
“Bedivere,” he answered. “But my sisters called me Bedwyr. It’s the way they say it in the North Country, where I was raised.”
“Were you close to your sisters?” Rowena asked, sensing that he wanted to tell her about them.
“We used to play for hours in the hills by our home.”
“What was your favorite game?” she asked.
He smiled as he recalled his boyhood. “What I loved to do with them more than anything else was dance. They taught me their folk dances.” He laughedin a self-deprecating way. “They told me I was the best dancer in all the hill country.”
“Are you?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered lightly. “I have not danced in a long, long time. Of course I’ve partnered ladies at balls and the like, but I haven’t really kicked my heels in the air since those carefree days.”
They sat side by side without speaking for a moment. “Your face is bloodied from your fight,” she observed after a while. She pushed the hair from his forehead. “But I cannot see where you were injured.”
He touched his temple. “It’s true,” he murmured. “The sword I hold is said to heal the wounds of its bearer.”
“It’s healed your wound then,” Rowena surmised.
“It appears so.” His expression darkened as some unhappy thought came upon him. “Though when fighting against enchanted foes it cannot be relied on.”
“What are you saying?”
He revealed to her that he held the great Excalibur and told her the story of how he had been entrusted to return it to the Lady of the Lake. Rowena excitedly told him what Eleanore had said to her just a day earlier—about the lake that had once been there. “It seems to me,” she added, “that if the lake were still here, this is where it would be located.”
“How could a lake disappear?” he asked.
Rowena shook her head, having no idea.
A sudden neighing of horses made them bothwhirl toward the sound. “My father!” Rowena said, gasping. “Hide!”
Bedivere resisted her command, seeming to feel hiding was unmanly. “No. I’ll
C HAPTER F IFTEEN
Rowena
Was this another vision? The scene Rowena had just witnessed was so unbelievable—what else could it be? Surely her mystery knight was not actually there at that very moment, staring down at her with an expression of complete amazement.
“Are you a witch?” he demanded gruffly, shifting Excalibur back into his good hand.
“I could not say,” Rowena answered truthfully. Up until the other day she would have been sure that she was no such thing; she might even have taken offense at the question. But these visions of him combined with her ability to see into the strange bowl had made her wonder about herself.
“If I am a witch,” she added, “I mean you no harm.”
“Then you did not send that soldier made of rocks to attack me?”
“Never!” she cried. “That was truly frightening. This forest is full of strangeness.”
“And you are not a part of the strangeness?” he asked warily.
“The first I knew of any strange power in me was when I saw you in battle.”
He backed up in surprise. She knew from his stunned expression that he understood—even if he could not quite believe it—what she was talking about. He studied her face as if deciding if he trusted her.
“I saw you, as well,” he told her after a moment.
She smiled at him, appreciating his honesty. “Then are you a wizard?” she asked, teasing.
“Can’t you see that I am a beggar?” he countered.
“A wizard might disguise himself as a beggar…or as a knight. It does not answer my question,” she replied.
He relaxed and loosened his grip on the extravagantly jeweled sword that he held. “I am not a wizard. I have no explanation for why we seem so connected in this strange way.”
“Neither have I,” she said as she sat on the boulder.
Replacing his sword, he sat beside her.
“What is your name?” she asked him.
“Bedivere,” he answered. “But my sisters called me Bedwyr. It’s the way they say it in the North Country, where I was raised.”
“Were you close to your sisters?” Rowena asked, sensing that he wanted to tell her about them.
“We used to play for hours in the hills by our home.”
“What was your favorite game?” she asked.
He smiled as he recalled his boyhood. “What I loved to do with them more than anything else was dance. They taught me their folk dances.” He laughedin a self-deprecating way. “They told me I was the best dancer in all the hill country.”
“Are you?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered lightly. “I have not danced in a long, long time. Of course I’ve partnered ladies at balls and the like, but I haven’t really kicked my heels in the air since those carefree days.”
They sat side by side without speaking for a moment. “Your face is bloodied from your fight,” she observed after a while. She pushed the hair from his forehead. “But I cannot see where you were injured.”
He touched his temple. “It’s true,” he murmured. “The sword I hold is said to heal the wounds of its bearer.”
“It’s healed your wound then,” Rowena surmised.
“It appears so.” His expression darkened as some unhappy thought came upon him. “Though when fighting against enchanted foes it cannot be relied on.”
“What are you saying?”
He revealed to her that he held the great Excalibur and told her the story of how he had been entrusted to return it to the Lady of the Lake. Rowena excitedly told him what Eleanore had said to her just a day earlier—about the lake that had once been there. “It seems to me,” she added, “that if the lake were still here, this is where it would be located.”
“How could a lake disappear?” he asked.
Rowena shook her head, having no idea.
A sudden neighing of horses made them bothwhirl toward the sound. “My father!” Rowena said, gasping. “Hide!”
Bedivere resisted her command, seeming to feel hiding was unmanly. “No. I’ll
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