Heartsong Read Online Free PDF Page A

leaving her confused and disliking herself for that confusion.
    She stared after him but refused to admit to the dryness of her throat, to the frantic rhythm of her heart, to the difficulty she had in taking a satisfying amount of air.
    “It is naught but hate and fear,” she mumbled watching him ride toward the front of the column. She swallowed the lump in her throat while she wrestled with more strange emotions. Anger, fear of the unknown, concern for those at home, she decided before she snuggled into the furs to sleep. She must not think on the horror deShay and his ilk had wrought. Nay, she had to sleep, regain her strength. Then plan an escape.
    The slowing of her cart prodded Rhianna out of her restless dreams. It stopped and despite the dull ache in her shoulder, she pulled herself into a sitting position then stared at a sky, now a sunset rose. The gray sky of that day had become a gold and rose-striped twilight.
    She’d slept away the afternoon. Disgust rolled through her.
    Seeking her brother, she turned her head left then right. Neither Arthur nor the soldier with whom he’d ridden were behind her. Nor did he ride in front of her. Frantic now, she scooted off the furs and eased to the ground beside the halted cart.
    Before she could find her brother, another soldier stepped forward, a stranger, someone she had never seen before. She took a step back, but she was too slow. He swung her into his arms before she could protest starting for a tent just being raised.
    In short order, everything was in place and he dropped her to her feet. The jarring pain lanced her shoulder and she groaned in agony. He stepped away from her, brushed his tunic and arms then crossed himself.
    “My Lord will see to you soon,” he snarled, obviously unhappy with the task he’d been given.
    “Thank you,” she murmured then asked, “My companion?”
    “Ask Lord Garrett,” he muttered.
    Rhianna closed her lips over a string of curses. Until
    they escaped, she’d have to endure these barbarians with their pathetic English manners.
    Once inside, Rhianna sank onto a pallet piled with furs. Nay, sitting would never do. She jumped to her feet, but a stab of searing fire in her shoulder nearly sent her to her knees. Nay, she could not give in to the agony. She started to pace.
    Again she had to discover Arthur’s whereabouts. They had to make plans, escape while they were still in Wales. There were peasants willing to aid them even here. But first she and Arthur had to get away from deShay.
    Thoughts of her adversary must have summoned him, for he threw open the flap of the tent and strode toward her. She cringed, flinging herself back toward the furs.
    “Good eventide, wench.”
    “Also to you,” she murmured.
    What an untruth she had mouthed. She wished him anything but a good eventide.
    Before she opened her mouth to rephrase her greeting, a page appeared at the entrance to the tent and asked permission to enter.
    “Come,” deShay responded.
    The young man slipped through the opening carrying a full wine skin and two goblets. He placed them on a small table she’d failed to notice, bowed to Garrett, also crossed himself and backed out of the tent.
    Rhianna stared at the rug on the grass. Her throat closed with anxiety. Why were these English servants crossing themselves? Now she had to worry about what deShay planned. Despite her apprehension, her heart beat faster and her stomach fluttered.
    “Join me in a cup of wine.”
    It was a command. She had no choice but to accept when he handed her a cup.
    “You and your companion are my captives. I would not have you worry about what will happen to you when we reach Knockin.”
    She stared at him.
    “Your companion will serve in my stables,” he announced as he poured himself a bit. “I understand from one of my men he has a great knowledge of horses and worked in the stables at Brynn Ffrydd. He will do the same for me.”
    She bit her lip. deShay knew they were of Brynn