The King's Sword Read Free Page A

yet.”
    “I like the gray one.” Ronan nodded toward the mare of the three.
    “But does she like you?” Keegan’s smiled dipped to a grin. “A Dulcet Horse chooses its own rider.”
    “How can a horse make a choice like that?” Arien asked.
    “Animals sense things about us,” Keegan explained as he ran a large hand over the gray mare. “They know things about us and choose a rider that best matches them.”
    “Sounds like a little horse manure to me,” Ula said as she stepped from the house to Ronan’s side.
    “You could always shake your foot at them to be certain you are chosen first.” Ronan grinned when Arien snickered but didn’t look at the witch.
    “Sorcha comes from two Dulcets that are strong and mild tempered. She is fast but not reckless.” Keegan patted the gray mare again before moving to the black and white horses. “Ahearn is stronger than Sorcha and acts as protector to the others. He is very intelligent. And Dermot is the gentlest horse I have. He’ll probably choose the most inexperienced rider.”
    “Fascinating. I’m curious now,” Ronan admitted staring at the dark eyes of each of the animals when Keegan moved away from them. Ahearn stepped forward almost immediately and nudged at Arien. The boy’s eyes widened.
    “Why did he choose me?” Arien asked lifting a hand to rub between the black horse’s ears.
    “Only Ahearn knows why,” Keegan answered. The other two horses stood for a moment looking at Ronan and Ula. Then they moved forward in unison and Ronan watched as the gray mare chose him. He’d liked her best anyway.
    “Well, hello, Sorcha.” Ronan smiled when she nuzzled against his beard.
    “Now, don’t get too attached to them unless you are willing to pay the price to own this kind of animal,” Keegan warned. But Ronan was already deciding what he was going to sell to raise the funds to pay for this horse that looked him right in the eyes.
    “So where is your dead guard?” Keegan asked after a moment.
    Ronan nodded toward stable. “In the mule stable. I didn’t bury him in the event someone wanted to make sure the story I told was truth.” He slanted a gaze at Keegan. “Would you like to see him for yourself?”
    “No.” Keegan scowled. “Is that his robe?” His attention dropped to the bright blue material draped over Ronan’s shoulder.
    “I thought if I wore royal colors that it would ease worries of getting people to feed and shelter us at night,” Ronan told the man.
    “Just don’t ride next to me. I don’t want anyone to think I am a guard if those that ambushed the first batch are still around.” Keegan leaned down to adjust the saddle strap. “No doubt they’ll know that the one wearing the colors is the one carrying the sword.”
    Ronan considered the horseman’s words, then removed the material and folded it. He stuffed it down from sight in his pack. He hadn’t considered that he would be in danger by delivering the sword. He’d only thought of the burden of having to leave his home and make arrangements for a neighboring farmer to look after his mule.
    “Have you eaten?” Ronan asked.
    “I have not. I assumed my meals would be provided since I was doing this service for you,” Keegan answered so Ronan motioned him inside. Ula Baen might be a crazy old witch but she was one who could cook. And she’d prepared enough food for a dozen people.
    When Ronan had found her that morning placing the food on the table he’d felt a bit guilty for laughing at her. She’d gone out that night and managed to bring in a boar to fry up at breakfast, along with Slog eggs and corncakes. Arien had nearly made himself ill eating so much.
    It had been a long time since Ronan had eaten such a meal. The aroma of fried meat had roused him from bed and brought a rumble from his stomach that clearly spoke that it had been neglected such luxury. Breakfast usually consisted of cold bread and lukewarm milk. He’d made sure to tell her twice what good