Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] Read Free Page B

looked familiar and the stone walls… He was in the chamber in the king’s castle he was sharing with hisbrothers, and it was very dimly lit. His eyelids fluttered closed again.
    “Reece?”
    That was the voice of his brother, Gervais.
    “He’s awake.”
    That was his youngest brother, Trevelyan.
    “No, he’s not,” Gervais said in what was supposed to pass for a whisper. “He just groaned in his sleep.”
    What time of day was it? Reece wondered as he tried to wet his dry lips to speak. He moved in preparation of sitting up, and the pain sliced through him, wrenching another groan from his desert-dry throat.
    “I say he is awake and we should summon the infirmerer,” Trev whispered, his voice strained from more than the effort of keeping his naturally loud voice soft. “He said we should fetch him when Reece awoke.”
    “We should wait until we’re sure,” the ever-cautious Gervais retorted. “I don’t want you to go running all over the castle for no reason.”
    Reece opened his eyes again and put his hand on his side. He was bare chested, with a cloth wrapped about him. A bandage, obviously, and it was damp where the worst pain was. He looked down and saw the blood as he struggled to sit up.
    Gervais gently pushed him down. “Keep still, brother,” he commanded with no attempt at a muted tone, his voice as firm as a general’s but with relief in it, too. “You’ve lost enough blood, and they punched you in the face, too, the louts.”
    Yes, he remembered that, as anger swept through him, albeit accompanied by humiliation. He should have been more careful of Damon Delasaine and able to triumph over both them. Two on one shouldn’t have made a difference.
    “Can you see?” Gervais asked.
    Reece nodded and forced his thoughts away from his own anger and shame. “What happened to Lady Anne after they attacked me?”
    Gervais didn’t answer right away. He came around the bed, leaned forward and lightly covered Reece’s left eye with the palm of his hand. “And now?”
    “Yes. Lady Anne—?”
    “Thank God!” Gervais said with a sigh as he moved back and sat on the cot. “We were afraid he’d blinded you in your right eye. How’s your head?”
    “It hurts.” Reece reached out and grabbed Gervais’s arm. The lunge made him cry out at the sudden jab of pain from his side, but he asked his question with stern authority. “What of Lady Anne?”
    “Taken to her bed, or so her brothers claim,” Trev said from the foot of the cot, reminding Reece he was there.
    He didn’t like the sound of that. Either she was avoiding people because she was embarrassed or ashamed, or she had another reason, such as a bruised body, to stay hidden away.
    If her siblings had harmed her in any way, they would rue the day as soon as the wound in his side had healed enough for him to challenge them to combat, either singly or together. He would be more than prepared for their treachery now.
    “Damn, Reece, let go! You’re going to break my arm.”
    “Sorry,” he muttered as he released Gervais and lay back down, panting as the pain ebbed. “How long?”
    “How long since they attacked you?” Gervais asked.
    He nodded.
    “It’s midmorning after.”
    “Those damn Delasaines stabbed you in the back,” Trev said, his voice very loud in the quiet of the room.
    Not exactly the back, Reece knew, although Damon’s blow had been cowardly just the same.
    “By the time the king’s guards got there, you were out cold,” Trev continued.
    Gervais regarded Reece with woeful sympathy, as if he were a sick baby. “Thank God the dagger ran along a rib, so no serious harm done. All you need is rest and time to heal. Don’t give the tournament another thought. There’ll be others.”
    Reece stifled another groan, this time of disappointment and dismay. He had planned to distinguish himself at the king’s tournament. No chance of that now, thanks to the Delasaines.
    “What about you?” he asked Gervais, who was also