Bonds of Vengeance Read Online Free PDF Page B

those of her father.
    “Are you hungry again, little one?” Cresenne whispered, placing a finger on the child’s lips to see if she wanted to nurse. Immediately, Bryntelle took the finger in her mouth and began sucking on it. Cresenne laughed. “Very well.”
    She sat up straighter, wincing at the dull ache in her back and hips. She pulled off her shift and raised Bryntelle to her breast. The babe began to suckle greedily.
    “You’d think I hadn’t fed you all night.”
    She heard a knock at the door and felt her body tense.
    “Come in.”
    She had expected Grinsa, but instead the herbmaster bustled in, crossing hurriedly to the shelf near her bed where he kept his herbs and stoppered vials of various extracts.
    He glanced at her. “How are you feeling?”
    “I’m sore. But other than that I feel all right, thank you.”
    “Some pain is normal, particularly after a difficult labor. And the child?”
    “I think she’s fine.”
    “Good.” He stepped to the bed and looked at Bryntelle a moment. “She’s nursing quite well, and her color seems right for a Qirsi child.” He turned and started for the door. “I’d stay longer, but one of theguards was wounded in training this morning. I’ll try to return later.” He hesitated at the door, facing her again. “The gleaner is here to see you. Shall I send him in?”
    She didn’t answer. As much as Cresenne wanted to refuse him, to avoid this encounter for as long as possible, she knew that she couldn’t, not after what Grinsa had done for her the night before. “Yes,” she said at last, the word coming out as a sigh. “Thank you.”
    He nodded and let himself out of the room, leaving the door ajar. A moment later Grinsa walked in.
    Cresenne, though very much aware of his presence the night before, hadn’t really looked at him until now. She hadn’t remembered his face being so thin, and though he had always been an imposing man, he appeared taller and broader in the shoulders than he had in Curgh. She silently cursed the racing of her pulse.
    His bright eyes fell on her as soon as he entered the room, but he quickly averted his gaze, his face coloring, as if embarrassed to see her nursing the baby.
    She should have found a way to use this against him, but instead she felt herself growing discomfited as well. With her free arm, she draped her shift over her shoulders and breast so that only Bryntelle’s face could be seen.
    Grinsa paced the room briefly, like a restless dog, finally stopping before the hearth.
    “How do you feel?”
    She shrugged, glancing down at Bryntelle. The baby’s eyes were beginning to droop again. “Not too bad.”
    “And Bryntelle?”
    She smiled in spite of herself. It was the first time someone else had used her—their—daughter’s name.
    “She’s hungry all the time.”
    “Isn’t she supposed to be?”
    “I think so, yes.”
    He nodded, resuming his pacing.
    “I believe she looks a little bit like you.”
    “Don’t!” he said, halting near the door and glaring at her.
    “Don’t what?”
    “Don’t talk to me like we’re husband and wife! Don’t pretend that this child changes who you are and what you’ve done!”
    “What do you know about who I am, Grinsa?”
    “I know you’re a traitor.”
    “A traitor to whom? The kingdom of Eibithar? I was born in Braedon and raised in Wethyrn. How can I betray a kingdom that’s not my own?” She forced a thin smile. “From where I sit, you’re the one who’s guilty of treason. You’ve forsaken your people for the Eandi courts. You, of all people.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”
    “I think you know. We live in a land where you risk your life simply by admitting the extent of your powers, yet you willingly serve those who would be your executioners.”
    She thought he would deny it. Until this moment none in the movement, not even the Weaver himself, knew for certain that Grinsa was a Weaver as well. They suspected, of course, and