The King's Executioner Read Free Page B

“I always mean what I say.”
    Anin persisted. “I can climb down.”
    “You will drop down.”
    “You might not catch me.”
    “Stop talking nonsense and drop down out of there right now,” he ordered sharply.
    “And if you fail to catch me what then will you tell the King?” she argued.
    “How did you get up there?” he asked annoyed at being questioned. No one ever questioned him. They simply obeyed or suffered for it.
    Anin was quick to get the curled vine and show it to him.
    “And how would that help you to get down?”
    “I will show you,” she said, not wanting to drop down into his arms. She wrapped the vine around a branch and let the rest fall to the ground. Before she could take firm hold of the vine and lower herself, he scaled the tree with the help of the vine, slipped his arm around her waist, yanked her against his hard chest and lowered them both down.
    “Listen well, Anin,” he said, not letting her go once their feet touched the ground. “You will do what I say when I say it and without question. Do you understand?” She stared at him as if from a distance, her hand resting against his chest. Even through his tunic, he could feel her warmth and gentleness. The top of her head had barely reached his chin when he had taken hold of her and his arm had gone a good ways around her waist, she was so slim. And her breasts felt ample crushed against his chest. He grew annoyed at his thoughts and gave her a shake when he should have given himself one. “Do you hear me?”
    She jumped as if startled and quickly nodded.
    “You will follow my every command?”
    She nodded again.
    He let her go, grabbed his battle axe, and said, “Stay close.”
    She obeyed without question and fell in step behind him while her thoughts drifted back to when she was young. One day her oldest brother Forgan had suffered a bad wound to his leg while practicing with a spear. One of the wise women had been tending him when Anin entered the room. She walked over to him and with concern placed her small hand on his arm to comfort him and tell him all would be well. As soon as she touched him, she started crying and telling him how sorry she was that he was in such terrible pain and how he should not worry that da would not be angry with him if he shed tears. She had felt his awful pain and his worries and had spoken them aloud.
    Her mum had grabbed her arm, squeezing it hard, and rushed her out of the room and told her never to do that again. She had not even known what she had done, but her mum had been so angry with her that she had given her word on it. It was years before another such incident happened again, but that time she wisely remained silent. It took a few more such incidents for her to realize that there were times when she touched people she could feel their pain, worry, or joy. She dared not speak a word about it. She was much too fearful of what people would think.
    Meeca, the wise woman, had tried, through the years, to speak to her about the incident with her brother, but Anin would say nothing. She had wished that whatever it was it would go away, until finally she realized it was part of her and she would never be rid of it. So, she found a way to cope with it and discovered that at times it not only benefited her, but others as well.
    Never, though, had she felt what she did when her hand came to rest on the executioner.
    The memory of it had her steps faltering. She did not want to think on it and never did she want to feel it again.
    Emptiness. Nothingness. Hollow.
    It was as if he was dead and still walked amongst the living. What caused a man to feel nothing, care for nothing? Had he made so many suffer and taken so many lives that life meant nothing to him anymore? She would be wise to remember that such a man was dangerous and she would be wise to never touch him again.

Chapter Three
    After feeling as if she was running and could not take another step, Anin stopped and called out, “You need to