Read Online The Young Dread by Arwen Elys Dayton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Arwen Elys Dayton
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he seemed almost shy of speaking aloud. She pressed her ear more firmly to the pantry door.
Briac held up a hand. “Wait, if you would,” he said. “I’d prefer if we continued this discussion outside.”
The young man nodded, and the two of them rose to leave. When the visitor’s back was turned, Briac took three steps across the room and gave the pantry door a hard shove, driving it into the side of Quin’s head. She was sent sprawling to the floor.
She got slowly to her feet and staggered out of the pantry and into the kitchen, rubbing her head. In the other room, the cottage’s front door opened and shut, and through a window, she saw Briac and the visitor walking together into the meadow. Apparently, Briac wanted privacy.
“Quin. What were you doing in there?”
Fiona Kincaid, Quin’s mother, was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of something in front of her. Quin caught a whiff of alcohol and knew her mother was drinking the strong cider of which she’d become so fond in recent years. On the stove, a stew was cooking for dinner, and there was bread in the oven, filling the cottage with delicious smells. These kitchen aromas were the background of her childhood, along with the scent of the tall grass that covered the commons and the rich earth beneath the trees of the forest. Only the faint trace of alcohol in the air took away from the sudden surge of happiness Quin felt. John would be successful. She and Shinobu would be successful. It was meant to be, and her life with John would be as she had always imagined.
“Were you eavesdropping?” her mother asked.
“I thought maybe it had something to do with tonight,” Quin explained, dropping into a seat across from Fiona and drawing her knees up against her chest. Her mother’s dark red hair was back in a tidy braid, and her face was blank.
Even without a smile, her mother had a beautiful face. Everyone said so. She was looking out the window now, at Briac and the visitor as they walked away. Then she turned back to her mug of cider, her expression growing serious.
“What did you hear?” her mother asked.
“Nothing,” Quin answered. Then an unpleasant thought came. “You’re not trying to marry me off, are you?”
This caught Fiona by surprise, and the hint of a smile formed on her lips. “Marry you off ? Why, did you find the young man good-looking?”
“I—I don’t know. I’m not really used to…” Her sentence died in embarrassment.
“Of course we’re not marrying you off,” her mother said with a gentle smile.
“Don’t say ‘of course,’ ” Quin responded. “That’s what happened to you, isn’t it?” In fact, her mother had never said that exactly, but this was the impression Quin had gathered from Fiona’s description of her courtship and marriage to Briac Kincaid. She never spoke of falling in love so much as she spoke of her parents “making a match.”
“Well, we’re not marrying you to
him,
” Fiona said, teasing her.
“I know how it used to be done,” Quin went on. “Protect the bloodlines. Keep control.”
In truth, she understood the value in being matched by her parents. Marrying someone her father trusted would help keep their knowledge and weapons under Briac’s direct control. Briac and Alistair were, she had always been told, the last of the Seekers, and she and Shinobu must carry on this tradition in an unbroken line—and John, of course, but his line had already been broken, because his family had almost died out. In theory, she would be happy to marry someone who pleased her parents—but in reality she very much hoped that their choice agreed with her own.
Her mother took a long sip from her mug and shook her head. “We’re not marrying you to someone, Quin. Even if your father might like the idea. Enough of your life has been planned out for you already, I think. You should choose your own mate.”
Quin looked out across the meadow to where she and John had just been
Briac held up a hand. “Wait, if you would,” he said. “I’d prefer if we continued this discussion outside.”
The young man nodded, and the two of them rose to leave. When the visitor’s back was turned, Briac took three steps across the room and gave the pantry door a hard shove, driving it into the side of Quin’s head. She was sent sprawling to the floor.
She got slowly to her feet and staggered out of the pantry and into the kitchen, rubbing her head. In the other room, the cottage’s front door opened and shut, and through a window, she saw Briac and the visitor walking together into the meadow. Apparently, Briac wanted privacy.
“Quin. What were you doing in there?”
Fiona Kincaid, Quin’s mother, was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of something in front of her. Quin caught a whiff of alcohol and knew her mother was drinking the strong cider of which she’d become so fond in recent years. On the stove, a stew was cooking for dinner, and there was bread in the oven, filling the cottage with delicious smells. These kitchen aromas were the background of her childhood, along with the scent of the tall grass that covered the commons and the rich earth beneath the trees of the forest. Only the faint trace of alcohol in the air took away from the sudden surge of happiness Quin felt. John would be successful. She and Shinobu would be successful. It was meant to be, and her life with John would be as she had always imagined.
“Were you eavesdropping?” her mother asked.
“I thought maybe it had something to do with tonight,” Quin explained, dropping into a seat across from Fiona and drawing her knees up against her chest. Her mother’s dark red hair was back in a tidy braid, and her face was blank.
Even without a smile, her mother had a beautiful face. Everyone said so. She was looking out the window now, at Briac and the visitor as they walked away. Then she turned back to her mug of cider, her expression growing serious.
“What did you hear?” her mother asked.
“Nothing,” Quin answered. Then an unpleasant thought came. “You’re not trying to marry me off, are you?”
This caught Fiona by surprise, and the hint of a smile formed on her lips. “Marry you off ? Why, did you find the young man good-looking?”
“I—I don’t know. I’m not really used to…” Her sentence died in embarrassment.
“Of course we’re not marrying you off,” her mother said with a gentle smile.
“Don’t say ‘of course,’ ” Quin responded. “That’s what happened to you, isn’t it?” In fact, her mother had never said that exactly, but this was the impression Quin had gathered from Fiona’s description of her courtship and marriage to Briac Kincaid. She never spoke of falling in love so much as she spoke of her parents “making a match.”
“Well, we’re not marrying you to
him,
” Fiona said, teasing her.
“I know how it used to be done,” Quin went on. “Protect the bloodlines. Keep control.”
In truth, she understood the value in being matched by her parents. Marrying someone her father trusted would help keep their knowledge and weapons under Briac’s direct control. Briac and Alistair were, she had always been told, the last of the Seekers, and she and Shinobu must carry on this tradition in an unbroken line—and John, of course, but his line had already been broken, because his family had almost died out. In theory, she would be happy to marry someone who pleased her parents—but in reality she very much hoped that their choice agreed with her own.
Her mother took a long sip from her mug and shook her head. “We’re not marrying you to someone, Quin. Even if your father might like the idea. Enough of your life has been planned out for you already, I think. You should choose your own mate.”
Quin looked out across the meadow to where she and John had just been
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