Shana Abe Read Free Page B

to him, as if he himself were not English at all but rather a reflection of something else.
    Malcolm
, she thought, and felt a chill.
    She walked over to him and saw that he was looking at a broadsword, a ridiculously large one, she thought, lying flat amid the furs. The blade gleamed dully, spots of rust speckling its length.
    Her mind refused to make the connection between the weapon and her brother. What was he doing with it? He shouldn’t be allowed to handle such a thing, he might hurt himself. Without thought she reached out to pick it up.
    Alister stopped her by taking it first. He used both hands to lift it. His face twisted with the effort.
    “What are you doing?” Kyla tried to keep her voice mild, fighting the urge to snatch the sword from him.
    “Didn’t you hear?” he asked, concentrating on balancing the blade, turning it this way and that.
    “Hear what?”
    Outside the room she did hear something now—how could she have missed it before?—an ominous rush of sound, booted footsteps in the hallways, masculine voices, deep and filled with an emotion that brought goosebumps to her arms.Without thought she crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her sleeves to warm herself.
    “Lord Strathmore has ordered Uncle to surrender us. ‘Surrender the Warwicks.’ He said if Uncle didn’t, then Glencarson would suffer the consequences.”
    Alister rested the sword point on the pallet, his head bowed. Kyla noticed that he was dressed in a hauberk, chain mail, all of it much too large on him, a grown man’s battle gear. The blood went rushing from her head.
    “No,” she said, but it was just a whisper.
    “It’s true.” Alister looked up at her for the first time, eyes grave. “I saw the demand myself. It came this afternoon, after the first letter. Uncle showed it to me.”
    “No,” she said again.
    Outside the strange noise was rising, a sinister thing she had never heard before, yet she knew what it portended.
    A cloud passed over the sun, plunging the room into shades of gray.
    “He’s relentless, Kyla. That’s why they call him the Hound of Hell. He’ll never stop, unless we stop him here. Otherwise it will never be over. He’ll take you if he can.” Alister’s small hands clenched the hilt of the broadsword. “I won’t let it happen. He won’t kill you, too.”
    She stared at him speechlessly, the brother she knew hidden behind these words of a stranger. But they were the wrong words, they would get him killed.
    “Listen to me,” she began urgently.
    “Alister,” interrupted a voice by the doorway, and her chills came back. Malcolm was here.
    “It will be all right, Kyla,” said her brother. “I will protect you.”
    “I won’t let you do this.” Her voice was strange even to her, high and brittle.
    Malcolm spoke again, a silhouette with the light of the hall behind him. “You are mistaken if you think you have a choice, Kyla. You will stay here with the rest of the women. This doesn’t concern you.”
    “I won’t let you!” she cried, running to him, trying to get past him, trying to get through the door.
    Malcolm blocked her easily, much larger than she was, holding her at bay with both arms. “Alister,” he said again, a low-pitched command that pierced her to the bone. Behind her moved her brother, edging around them both, leaving the room.
    “No!” Kyla called, reaching for him. “Come back!”
    Alister looked over his shoulder at her again, a still look that spoke volumes, then moved off down the hall. She turned on Malcolm furiously.
    “It’s only me they want,” she said. “Let me go, I will bargain with Strathmore. It doesn’t have to be like this.”
    “Never,” Malcolm replied, and meant it.
    “He is only twelve!” she cried. “God have mercy, he is but a child! Do not misuse him so!”
    He brushed her protests aside with disgust. “He is a man, or he would be if you would not coddle him so. It is his God-given right to fight those who killed his