A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,77

Drem is leaving me gifts, to make up for all of the difficulties he is causing me. First the draig egg, and now you.”

Fritha smiled.

She reached to her belt and drew her knife. She opened her palm, saw the scabbing cut from the hold, when she had communicated with Gulla. Gritting her teeth, she drew her knife across the half-healed wound, fresh blood welling, and she squeezed a fist, let her blood drip into the wyrm’s wounds, across its body, finally onto its fangs and into its mouth.

“Fola agus focail chumhachta,” Fritha whispered, “ceangail an fheoil seo, leigheas an cnámh seo.” She smiled as she did it. “I will save you, my beauty,” she whispered, and intoned her spell of power again, and again, until the wyrm shuddered and lay its head down, sleeping.

“Gunil, build me a cage,” she called over her shoulder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

BLEDA

Bleda’s heart was pounding. He was riding through the wide streets of Drassil, his horse’s hooves sparking on the flagstones of the road, dimly aware of Ellac and his guard urging their mounts after him. People were jumping out of his way, and a shadow flitted across the road, a glimpse showing the silhouette of Riv above him.

So much had happened in the weapons-field, a brawl turning into a riot. Bleda had thought for a few heart-wrenching moments when he saw Riv fall beneath an abundance of foes that she was going to be beaten to death. He hardly remembered galloping across the field, people leaping out of his way as he leaned out of his saddle, grabbing Riv and hauling her onto his horse.

And then, when he thought the worst was over and all was returning to calm, Riv had flown down and said those six words that had set him to riding through the streets.

Your mother has come to Drassil.

He felt excited, scared, thrilled, worried.

And then he was bursting into the great courtyard of Drassil, its huge gates and tower rising like a small keep ahead of him. The courtyard itself was large enough to hold a small host, a thousand warriors on horseback could probably fit into it.

Bleda touched his reins and gave a quick squeeze with his knees, his mount responding beautifully, slowing to a trot, to a walk and then to a standstill. Ellac and his guards, a dozen men and women, formed up perfectly to either side of him. Tuld, Ruga and Mirim were closest. They seemed to have been permanently at his side since their return to Drassil and had taken great pride in telling Bleda’s guard that had remained in the fortress of their Prince’s exploits against the Ben-Elim. Bleda had been relieved to discover that his honour guard who had remained in Drassil when he’d fled with Riv had not been harmed, merely detained and watched closely. They had shown unusual joy when he had returned to them, and upon hearing of his actions, seemed to hold Bleda in higher esteem than before.

“What did she say to you?” Ellac asked him.

“Huh?” Bleda grunted, then realized Ellac was referring to Riv.

“My Queen and mother is here.” Bleda kept his face emotionless. “She is riding towards Drassil’s gates,” he said, and saw a brief lapse of Ellac’s cold-face, a ripple of surprise and pleasure before the control came back.

Bleda’s other guards heard, and instantly all were checking their deels and weapons, straightening arrows in their belt quivers, sitting taller in their saddles.

The gates of Drassil were open. Horn blasts rang out and, through the gateway, Bleda glimpsed movement on the plain.

Others started arriving in the courtyard—Jin and a score of her honour guard. She looked at Bleda with a quizzical expression, but Bleda avoided her gaze.

Bleda had felt awkward with Jin since his return to Drassil. He was betrothed to her, knew that their marriage had been arranged to secure the bonds between the Sirak and Cheren Clans and to put their old grievances into the past. And Bleda liked Jin. She had been his closest companion for the last five years, his only friend in the fortress.

Until Riv.

He knew that it was his duty to wed Jin, that he was honour-bound for the sake of his Clan, and it was not the worst thing he could imagine. She was intelligent, strong and skilled, and not unpleasant to look at. With her sharp features, quick reactions and wit she reminded Bleda of the hawk that was the Cheren sigil.

But then why is it that every time I close my eyes,