Blood and Memory Read Online Free PDF Page A

thanks all the same and was glad when the man had stepped away.
    The soldiers, all known to him, murmured their sympathies. One even apologized for not keeping Romen safe. Fynch wanted to cry out that Koreldy could take care of himself and so he had obviously been duped, then murdered—not that he knew the circumstances yet. Instead he accepted their commiserations silently and was relieved when they gradually departed.
    He and Knave were alone at last with their friend and he felt it would be all right now if he cried. He reached out and smoothed back a few stray hairs from Romen’s face; Wyl had adopted Koreldy’s fastidiousness and would not like his hair so scruffy.
    Those who had dealt with the body in Crowyll had done their best—mercifully wiping away most traces of blood and putting him in a fresh shirt. Still, he was hardly tidy and Fynch knew he would hate to be seen so disheveled. He leaned down and kissed his friend’s forehead before laying his own head on Romen’s cool chest and allowing his sorrow to echo through the chapel.
    The dog sniffed the body long and carefully. Presumably satisfied that his master no longer breathed, he joined Fynch. Knave was patient. It was as though he understood that it was Fynch’s turn now—the boy needed to grieve.
    That was how Valentyna found Fynch.
    She felt her composure slip as she stepped quietly into the chapel flanked by Krell and Liryk, who had insisted on accompanying her. On seeing the child draped over the corpse, she felt the sickening lurch of a cry rushing toward her throat. It was real. Death was here. It was Krell’s guiding hand, a gentle, well-timed touch, steering her down the short aisle, that rescued her. She fought the grief back down and was able once again to look at the poignant scene before her. Fynch looked so small, so vulnerable. She desperately wanted to hold him; cling to the living—not allow him to hate her so.
    Instead, as she silently drew up beside him, she risked taking his hand. She knew it was leaving herself open to his rebuke, for who could blame a youngster for not keeping his emotions in check? She was relieved when he did not pull away from her touch but straightened and stepped back from the corpse to stand next to her. Valentyna looked down into the tear-stained face and felt herself rewarded with a vague, watery smile. It was enough.
    “We lost him,” he whispered, his voice leaden with sorrow.
    “Yes,” she replied, now finally finding the courage to look fully upon the body of the man she had loved.
    Neither Krell nor Liryk stirred and both Fynch and Knave stood like statues while she stepped around Romen, seeing nothing for the moment other than how handsome he was in such stillness. Even through her concentration, however, she was aware that one set of eyes moved with her and regarded her intently.
    Knave watched.
What is he thinking
? she wondered, glad of the distraction for her mind while she absorbed this final vision of her love.
    “May I?” she asked, tentatively pointing toward his shirt.
    Liryk’s sad eyes blinked. He nodded gently, knowing what she wished to see.
    “He’s so pale,” she whispered.
    “There was a lot of blood lost,” Fynch replied, his voice coming as though from far away.
    She felt herself lurch again inwardly as a picture of Romen’s body spewing forth his lifeblood swam into her mind. Undoing the buttons, she revealed his chest, no longer warm and filled with love for her. Valentyna needed to see the ugly wound where the blade had been expertly driven and Romen’s heart had been punctured, all of its love drained out on the floor of a brothel while a whore called Hildyth shrieked as she watched him die.
    Or had she killed him? The nagging thought would not leave her.
    Knowing looks passed between the two men as the Queen lingered over the corpse, an awkward silence stretching.
    “Your highness,” Krell uttered after clearing his throat lightly. “Don’t torture yourself any