A Man Rides Through Read Online Free PDF Page A

Eremis was concerned—issues to resolve, explanations to obtain. But this time the Master's sarcasm didn't touch him. His heart was elsewhere, and without it he wasn't able to think clearly.
     
    His heart was in the dungeon, where he had left that woman.
     
    Curse her, anyway, curse her. She was the source of all the trouble, all the harm. He was even starting to think that she was the reason for King Joyse's weakness, even though the King had been walking that path for years before her first appearance. But now Lebbick would get the truth out of her. He would tear her limbs off if necessary to get the truth out of her. He would take the soft flesh of her body in his hands—
     
    He would do anything he wanted to her. He had permission.
     
    Now you've done it, woman. You've done something so heinous that nobody is going to protect you. That was true. The Tor had tried—and failed. You've helped a murderer escape.
     
    Now you are mine.
     
    Even though he had been warned.
     
    Mine.
     
    If only he could control the way he trembled whenever he thought of her.
     
    He answered Master Eremis for no reason at all except to mask what was happening to him, disguise the tremors in his muscles.
     
    But he wasn't thinking about what he said. He couldn't. He was too busy remembering the way her arms felt when he ground his fingers into them.
     
    "No," he heard her whisper. Her protest was like the horror in her soft brown eyes, like the quivering of her delicately cleft chin. She was afraid of him, deeply afraid. His anger touched a sore place in her—he could see that vividly, even though she had stood up to him in the past, had lied to him, forced him to swallow his passion against her time and again. She feared him as if she deserved to be terrified, as if she already knew that anything he might do to her was justified. "No," she whispered, but it wasn't his accusations she denied; it was him, the Castellan himself, his violence and authority.
     
    "Yes," he replied through his teeth, smiling at her fiercely as if she made him happy for the last time in his life.
     
    Holding her as hard as he wished, without regard for her pain— or for the way the Masters and guards looked at him despite the chaos of Nyle's murder and Geraden's disappearance—he escorted her to the dungeon himself.
     
    Along the way, she babbled.
     
    "No, you don't understand, it's a trick, Geraden didn't kill Nyle, please listen to me, listen to me, Eremis did this somehow, it's a trick."
     
    He liked that. He liked her fear. He wanted her prostrate in front of him. At the same time, however, her reaction disturbed him. For some reason, it reminded him of his wife.
     
    For no good reason, obviously, since his wife hadn't been a babbler. In fact, she hadn't been afraid of anything, not since King Joyse had rescued them from the Alend garrison commander who was having her raped so imaginatively. Not since he, Lebbick, had ripped that dogshit Alend apart with his teeth.
     
    But before that she had been afraid. Yes, he remembered her fear as well. She babbled. Yes. He heard her—watched her—was forced to watch her—and couldn't do anything about it, anything at all. He heard and saw her do every desperate and terrible thing she could think of to try to make those men stop.
     
    Castellan Lebbick wasn't going to stop. Never. Let her babble to her heart's content, cry out, scream if she wanted to. She was his.
     
    Yet it disturbed him.
     
    When he thrust her into her cell so that she nearly sprawled on the cot against the far wall, he had no intention of stopping. But he didn't start right away. Instead, he closed the iron door behind him without bothering to lock it, folded his arms across his chest to keep them from shaking, and faced her past the light of the single lamp. Its wick needed trimming; the flame guttered wildly, making shadows dance fright over her pale features.
     
    Still smiling through his teeth, he demanded, "How?"
     
    "I