Bound by Blood and Sand Read Online Free PDF Page A

families. Their decisions may have been cruel, but the Highest only ever acted to keep order and protect the Well. Kindness was a gesture they couldn’t often afford.
    “He thought he could find the Well himself,” Shirrad continued. “He took a search party into the desert, but…there was a sandstorm. It was enormous enough that we felt it, even here. Half our crops were buried, unsalvageable. And my father, he…he was lost.”
    “I’m so sorry, Lady,” Elan said. “How old were you?”
    “Thirteen, Highest. I’d only just returned from taking my vows at Danardae.”
    Elan sagged on his cushion. Thirteen was far too young to rule over any town or city, even one as insignificant as Aredann. He gave her a sympathetic look and went back to his meal, but he was already thinking it over. Lady Shirrad’s father had believed he could find the Well from Aredann. He must have had reason to. He must have found something—hopefully something still here, not lost with him in the desert.
    Maybe Lady Shirrad knew what it was. She’d definitely never talk about it, with her situation as precarious as it was. She couldn’t afford to look like she questioned the Highest. But once Elan had a chance to speak with her alone, he’d reassure her, and find out everything she knew. And Desinn would never know what was happening, until Elan was ready.

Lady Shirrad offered to show Elan and Desinn around Aredann after the meal, but Desinn declined, tired from all their traveling. Elan was just as exhausted, but even so, he said, “I’d love to see more of Aredann this evening, at least enough to start to learn my way around.”
    Shirrad gave a shrill, nervous laugh but stood and gestured toward the hall. “I know Aredann is a small estate. It certainly can’t compare to Danardae. But it is beautiful here, Highest.”
    “So I can see already,” Elan agreed, eyeing the designs in the halls. The large, swirling patterns built up to peaks, their shapes echoing the arched hallway itself, dotted with the occasional burst of yellow or red flowers. Legend said Lord Aredann, the guardian the estate had originally been named for, had been an almost obsessive gardener and that under his rule, the estate had been blanketed by blossoms year round.
    “It is remarkable what the mages were able to do, isn’t it?” Shirrad asked, reaching out to drag a hand along the wall.
    “It’s a shame so much magic was lost after the War,” Elan said. And then, carefully, he continued, “One of the final battles was fought here at Aredann, wasn’t it? If I remember my history right…”
    “Yes!” Shirrad chirped.
    “I’m fascinated by your estate’s history. Are there any artifacts left from the battle?” Elan asked.
    “Not many, I’m afraid,” Shirrad said. “It’s hard to tell what was used in a magical battle—I suppose we’re lucky the house was even left standing!”
    “Yes, we are,” Elan agreed.
    They turned down another long hall, one with enormous, empty windows. “But we do have the mosaic in the main hall that was created only a few years after the War, to celebrate Lord Aredann’s victory. And oh!” She stopped short. “Of course he loved his garden. It’s nothing to look at now, but…”
    She gestured to a large, open arch, which led out into a courtyard. Elan squinted in the dark and started forward as his eyes adjusted, peering across the yard at the strange shapes of the bushes—
    And he walked directly into something. It gave, and cool liquid hit his sandals. He jumped back, and Lady Shirrad crashed into him from behind. It took him a second to spot what he’d hit—a large water skin had been propped open on the path. He managed to steady himself and Lady Shirrad, while someone else scurried in the darkness—a barefoot servant girl.
    No—servants would never go around barefoot. That was a sign of the Closest. He frowned in confusion as the girl hurried to save the rest of the water, but it was too late. A