A Brother's Price Read Online Free PDF

trouble, just dangerous to corner,’’ Bounder said. ‘‘At the local fairs, the Whistlers don’t start the trouble, but they always end it. No nonsense, just pow, and lay the other girls out flat. You’d think the farmers around here would learn, but every year it seems one of them has to be taught what it’s like to cross someone trained to fight.’’
    ‘‘I didn’t know farmers were so quarrelsome,’’ Raven murmured.
    ‘‘It’s all on account of the men,’’ Bounder said.
    ‘‘Pardon?’’ Ren was sure she misheard. Men fighting?
    ‘‘The Whistlers’ menfolk.’’ Bounder grinned and clucked her tongue suggestively. ‘‘The Whistlers trot them out at social events and women fall over themselves to get near them. But the Whistlers don’t share them out, and sooner or later, someone won’t take no as an answer.’’
    Raven glanced uphill, eyes narrowed in speculation.
    ‘‘Their mothers are away and they’ve got men to protect.’’
    Bounder nodded. ‘‘Like I said, I’m glad you waited.’’
    With Queens Justice on hand, the rifles were put up, the windows unshuttered, the doors unlocked, and the visitors invited in to check on the sleeping princess. Inside, the house had the same military stamp: clean, neat, uncluttered, and orderly. The smell of roasting goose filled the house. There were only four teenage sisters; the rest were tiny, giggling girls that ducked shyly out of rooms and behind cover whenever looked at di- A BROTHER’S PRICE
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    rectly. Over the mantel, though, was an impressive array of medals. Death for Country. Queens Medal of Honor. Queen Elder Cross of Victory. Queens Order of Knights!
    Raven had paused with Ren to look at the medals, and aahed at the Order of Knights. ‘‘ Those Whistlers.’’
    ‘‘You know of them?’’
    ‘‘Aye. Famous, infamous Whistlers,’’ Raven murmured quietly, then glanced at a doorway, sending a giggling host of girls into hiding. The sister called Corelle reappeared to lead them upstairs. ‘‘I’ll explain later.’’
    Ren sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly frightened for her sister over again. Odelia lay so still and pale on the farmer’s narrow bed, oblivious to Ren’s presence. When a hand on Odelia’s shoulder failed to wake her, fear and despair mounted in Ren’s chest. ‘‘Odelia?’’
    Odelia sighed deeply. ‘‘Rats.’’
    ‘‘Rats?’’ Ren blinked in surprise and relief.
    ‘‘I’ve been playing sick for hours hoping they’ll let him come back.’’ Odelia opened her eyes and sighed again. ‘‘And now you’re here.’’
    ‘‘Him? I’m frightened for your life, and you’re ogling farmers’ husbands?’’
    ‘‘Oh, he was too young to be a husband.’’ Odelia sat up in bed—then looked concerned. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she fought a battle to keep from vomiting, then—carefully—lay back on the pillows Ren propped up behind her. ‘‘Okay, I wasn’t totally playing,’’
    Odelia admitted quietly. ‘‘But he was very, very handsome.’’
    ‘‘Lieutenant Bounder said the Whistlers had handsome menfolk, but I assumed that was compared to the farming standard.’’
    ‘‘Look at the sisters, Ren. Then think of a man along those lines with hair all down his back instead of a military crop.’’
    Ren recalled the oldest sister. The girl had been strik- 26
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    ing enough to remember despite the day’s flood of stressful events: clear pale skin, black hair, large blue eyes, and a full mouth. Ren snorted at the woolgathering, dismayed that Odelia managed to lead her so astray from important issues. For the sake of the country, it was good that Odelia was not the oldest. Her charmed life left her seeing things slightly skewed.
    ‘‘Odelia, I can’t believe you were beaten half to death, left to drown, and all you’re concerned about is the handsome son of poor landed gentry.’’
    ‘‘I’m still alive. The bruises will heal. Why dwell on the past?