Black Moon Draw Read Online Free PDF Page A

toss that bag to the other side of the wagon. I’m not sure what I’m looking for or even what to do if I find something interesting.
    The third and fourth bags are deep and filled with what look like wooden casino chips, a form of currency maybe, given the markings on them. They’re kind of cool with intricate carvings so fine, I don’t know how they were done by hand. I decide to keep several in case I need money for something here then close the satchel.
    The bird is happily holding a conversation with itself. It’s waddling around the tray and singing cheerfully. It stops to tug at a piece of cloth poking out from beneath the bench I sat on.
    I lean and lift up the top of the seat to reveal storage room underneath it.
    Something moves in the depths, and I gasp, dropping the lid. The bird and I exchange a look. After a quick internal debate, I toss pillows onto the other bench and lift the lid once more to peek inside.
    There’s a man, bound and gagged, inside the bench. His eye is swollen and black, his dark hair mussed. He can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, judging by the knobby arms and legs and the gorgeous tan eyes that go wide with fear when he lifts his head.
    I’m really not certain what to think of my host now. Why does he have some poor teenager tied up in his carriage? “You uh . . . need a hand?” I ask.
    There’s a hesitant nod.
    “You aren’t a serial killer or someone who hurts women, are you?”
    He shakes his head.
    Kneeling on the floor, I reach in and untie the ropes at his feet first and then his hands.
    He moves slowly, as if he’s been tied for a very long time. I pity him, starting to think I shouldn’t trust the Red Knight any more than I might the Shadow Knight. There are darkened circles beneath his eyes. He’s pale, his body shaking out of weakness.
    “You’re in rough shape,” I observe. “Can I ask what you’re doing in there?”
    Shouting grows louder outside. He casts a fearful look towards the door.
    “T. . . taken for ransom,” he answers in a strained whisper. “We must escape.”
    “Agreed.”
    He stands, wobbles, and then clutches at the side of the carriage. I take his arms and steady him.
    “Can you run?” I ask.
    “I will . . . manage. I would rather die fighting than starve in a carriage.”
    “Better yet – let’s not talk about dying at all,” I reply.
    I’m not sure if he hears me. His eyes are on the tray. He gropes for the bread and stuffs half a loaf in his mouth.
    Normally, I’d sit by meekly and wait for the Red Knight to return. I’m usually afraid of upsetting people. Maybe it’s the sense of being out of place, the shouts and screams outside, or finding the teen stuffed in a box, but I sense I need to leave quickly. I lean over to pull on the boots by one of the doors. The medallion around my neck smacks my hands and I sit back to study it briefly.
    The strange, light metal is worn around the edges and the leather necklace frayed in two places. Either it’s an heirloom, which makes little sense since it was given to a stranger, or it’s a cheap souvenir. I’m not sure why I have it or what I’m supposed to do with it – or why for a split second, I thought it was glowing purple.
    “Come,” the teen urges me.
    Tucking the medallion back into my dress, I push my feet into the soft leather boots and stand. It’ll take some work to keep from tripping over my feet. I drop the wooden coins into a deep pocket of the dark purple cloak and pull it off its post to swing around me. It falls to my ankles and has three buttons down the front that run from my neck to just below my breasts.
    “Ohhhhh!” The inside is lined with thick, soft fur I want to melt into. I run my fingers through it, fascinated by the length of the silky fur. I’m not sure I’ve felt anything this luxurious.
    “You are a battle-witch.” The young man is staring at me, eyes wide. “The one foretold an era ago.”
    “I’m not sure about that,” I reply.