Rising Fire Read Free Page B

old, giving you into our care. He gave no explanation, no instructions other than to care for you, and he has not interfered since that day,” he said. Staring off into the corner, Brienne knew he was thinking on that long-ago day. Turning back to her, he shrugged. “We never had the courage to ask his reasons or why he gave you to us for fear he would take you away.”
    Brienne smiled at his admission. She knew of no one in Yester Village or in the area who would question Lord Hugh—or anyone who had survived questioning him. A shiver traced a path of icy sparks along her spine. She’d never even had the courage to approach him before, but now, now that she was discovering these powers and understanding he was the only person who could answer her questions, she might.
    â€œDo not!” her father warned, taking hold of her arm and drawing her close. “Do not even think about speaking to him on such”—he glanced at the fires now banked low in his hearth—“such matters as these.”
    The fear gazing back at her from his eyes should have been enough to steer her from such a path. The whispered warning should have been sufficient to caution anyone not a bairn or a fool. The need that grew ever deeper and stronger within her pushed her in that dangerous direction. The desire to know her origins and the extent of these strange powers that inhabited her never diminished.
    Words drifted to her in that silent moment, and she shivered. The power in them tempted her and called to her deepest longings.
    Mine. Come to me.
    Daughter of my blood.
    Brienne, who had belonged to no one, who could call none family or kin, longed to be part of something. And this whispered invitation called to that deep need within her. She tried to shake off the fear and the temptation, but it all settled within her, keeping her blood heated and that unspoken need stoked. Gavin’s sad expression called her back to this cottage and this moment.
    â€œNay, you are right, Father. ’Twould be foolish to speak to him,” Brienne assured him, nodding her head.
    Gavin kissed her on the top of her head, just as he always had when reassuring her, and released her from his arms.
    â€œYou should be thinking about that offer from Dougal’s son James rather than . . .” He nodded his head, lifting his chin in the direction of the hearth. “Marriage and bairns should be your concern now, lass. Surely your mother has spoken of such matters to you?”
    Brienne smiled, trying to convince him that such matters did interest her, while her heart broke over her deception.
    â€œAye. She has spoken of little other than Jamie’s offer.” That much was true. “I have taken her counsel on it seriously.” A truth, but getting closer to the lying. “It is appealing to me.” There was the lie. Would he believe it?
    â€œAny man would be proud to have you to wife,” he said. “Your weaving skills do you much credit.”
    No matter that the skills she wanted to practice and develop did not involve a loom and threads. Brienne let this lie stand between them as well.
    Noises began to leach into the cocoon of silence that surrounded them, warning them of the approach of others and the return of their everyday tasks and chores. Gavin walked to the window, unlatched and opened the shutters, throwing them wide to allow the cooler breezes in. Though the cold air of winter had barely warmed these last weeks, Gavin could not work the smithy without a flow to feed the flames.
    Strange. The flames needed no such flow when she called them forth. Even with the shutters and door closely firmly against intrusion, they grew stronger and higher at her command. Her fingers tingled, reminding her of the power that had directed the heat from within her. Shaking them for a moment, more to erase the memory than to ease any tightness, Brienne reached for the two buckets by the door.
    â€œI