Sorceress Read Free Page B

had journeyed there to be with her older sister, a headstrong woman with ebony hair, so different from Bryanna. Through a recent spate of murders at Calon, Morwenna had proven to be a brave, insightful lady of the keep. That came as no surprise to Bryanna. However, no one had anticipated that Morwenna would find true love at Calon and marry. Now she and her husband shared the rule.
    And now Isa was dead, one of the victims of the terror that had besieged Calon. Her violent end was the point when the madness had really begun. When she’d visited the nurse-maid—poor Isa, dead and cold, her eyes staring sightlessly toward the dark rafters—Bryanna had heard her nursemaid’s voice. As clear as rainwater rushing through the gutters, the old woman’s voice had flowed, instructing Bryanna, and she had listened.
    I will be with you always , Isa’s spirit had insisted. You alone, of all your siblings, have the sight. Trust me and I will teach you. You, Bryanna of Penbrooke, will be called Sorceress.
    Now, nary a fortnight later, Bryanna, upon her fleet mare, thought there was a good chance she was making the biggest mistake of her life. And that was not an idle musing. In her sixteen years she’d erred often and had just as often been caught up in her foolishness. But this—riding away from the warmth and safety of Castle Calon—seemed suddenly rash and foolish, and she had to wonder if she were truly going mad.
    If the vision had not been so real, the images so strong, the voice inside her head so loud, she might have pushed thoughts of this journey aside, but she could not. And then there were the dreams that had been with her since childhood, dreams of gems raining from a night sky, dreams laced with that hauntingly familiar chant:
    An opal for the northern point,
An emerald for the east,
A topaz for the southern tip,
A ruby for the west.
     
She’d never understood the words until now. . . .
    “God help me,” she whispered under her breath as a cold winter wind bit at her nose and earlobes. Alabaster’s hooves dug into the hard-packed road, carrying her off on this truly mad journey.
    Her sister’s voice caught up with her, chillingly echoing her own desperate prayer. “Bryanna, God be with you,” Morwenna called, her voice floating high on the brisk winter wind.
    From astride her horse Bryanna forced a smile upon her cold lips and glanced over her shoulder to wave at Morwenna with one gloved hand, all the while holding the reins in a death grip. She spied her tall, dark-haired sister and the man she’d married. Bryanna’s heart tore a little at the sight of him, taller than his wife, his shoulders strong and wide, his near-black hair falling over a strong forehead and eyes as blue as a summer sky. Dear God, do not let me want him. Please. Do not. But it was already too late for prayer. She was half in love with him already.
    Foolish, foolish girl.
    After a quick look ahead, she glanced back again to spy the thick stone walls of Castle Calon rising behind Morwenna and her new husband. Although the heavy gates were clogged with the traffic of peasants, servants, and peddlers leaving and entering, Bryanna’s gaze was held by the sight of this man at her sister’s side.
    So strong.
    So masculine.
    So disturbing.
    He stood at his wife’s side, one strong arm wrapped protectively around Morwenna’s waist.
    How had she let herself grow so close to him when he was so obviously in love with Morwenna? Why did she ache just at the thought of him, long for the feel of his hand in her hair, his lips brushing her cheek? Sweet Mother Mary, how could she be so vile, so despicable as to actually lust after her sister’s husband? Bryanna’s stomach turned at the thought and she silently vowed that no one would ever know her secret. She would take it with her to her grave.
    “Godspeed, sister!” As he stood at the castle gates, his voice rose over the hills and sliced straight through Bryanna’s black heart.
    Sister.