Assassin's Shadow (Veiled Dagger Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

want to see you rested. Go home.”
    With that, King Heldar stood up and walked out of the throne room. No formalities were necessary between old friends.

Chapter 8
    Rothar left Stormbringer at the castle stables. The horse had been through a lifetime of strain over the last few days, and Rothar imagined that his horse deserved a royal rest.
    Walking though Witherington, Rothar nodded to all the people that he knew. Bester, the butcher, was in front of his shop cutting up chickens. Fara, the candlemaker, said hello to Rothar as he strode by. Harwin was beating a chunk of molten iron into submission, and stopped his work as Rothar approached.
    “I must assume that you showed the desert how to bleed,” the blacksmith said as he reached out to grasp his friend by the arm.
    “I only showed it how to smolder, but it will do. Taria is well,” Rothar said.
    “Very well! Very well indeed!” Harwin exclaimed, his eyes bright.
    “And how is Esme faring?” asked Rothar.
    “Well you should see for yourself,” said Harwin, and called for his daughter.
    Esme, dark haired and keen eyed, hurried out from the back of the shop. Rothar noticed that she still carried the old dagger he had given her in a sheath on her hip. Harwin must have retrieved it during the aftermath.
    “How are you feeling, Esme?” asked Rothar. The little girl had been through such a horrifying ordeal.
    “I am so happy to be home, “ she replied. “And how are you feeling?”
    Rothar chuckled. “ I always feel the same way, Esme, just fine.”
    There was a twinkle in Esme’s eye. “No, Rothar, you feel different now. I can see it.”
    With a giggle, Esme ran back into the rear of the shop. Rothar turned to look at Harwin.
    “What have you been telling her?” he asked.
    “Nothing,” Harwin shrugged his shoulders. “I swear!”
    Rothar feigned a scowl.
    “Esme is very good at reading people,” Harwin insisted. “Maybe she is on to you.”
    The blacksmith broke out in laughter as Rothar flushed red. With a fluttering laugh, Esme scampered back into the rooms at the back of the blacksmith shop.
    After she had gone, Rothar asked Harwin, “Has she been recovering well from her captivity?”
    Harwin’s face turned a little more serious. “As well as I could have hoped, I suppose. She does wake in the night, calling out, but she swears she is well.”
    Rothar nodded. “Perhaps you should pay a visit to Ariswold and get something to help her sleep, just for the time being.”
    “That is a good idea, I shall do that.”
    Rothar continued on down the market street, weaving a meandering trail towards his humble home at the edge of Witherington. The people here all knew his face, though very few had knowledge of what he did… what he was. If he chose to take advantage of the King’s good graces and the doors that could be opened to him, Rothar would be welcome in the highest houses of nobility, but he preferred Witherington, where the people were genuine.
    As he passed a row of shops, a huddled mass on the edge of the street suddenly reached out and grabbed his boot. Rothar looked down to see a sweating and dirty face, staring up at him pitifully from the pile of soiled rags. The face was of a young man who could not have been more than twenty years old, though the weariness in his eyes made him look much older.
    The young man seemed to be pleading with Rothar, though no words came from his mouth when he moved his lips, only wheezings and whimperings. Rothar wondered if the poor wretch was hungry, and stepped into one of the shops to buy him something to eat.
    Returning with some fruit, bread and a large hunk of dried meat, Rothar held the food out to the man, who snatched it away greedily. After examining the food, however, the man cast it down onto the street and reached his hand out again, rubbing his fingers together in a gesture that asked for money.
    Rothar walked on. If a starving man did not desire food, he had no desire to pay for what else he