King's Shield Read Online Free PDF Page A

no sound of the sea. The room smelled of wood, and faintly of mildew, and herb-laced leddas-wax candles; it had only a tiny table next to a bed. There were hooks on the wall for clothes. The air was sharply cold after the warmth of the inn’s main room.
    Tau set the candle on the table and moved to the window to look out. While his back was turned she flung off her tunic, kicked off her trousers, stockings, and shoes, then climbed hastily under the quilt and lay straight, and as close to the edge of the bed as possible. Tau sighed, “Ooh, I’m sore,” as he yanked the laces free on his shirt and pulled it up over his head.
    Jeje had conquered her old girlhood passion, thoroughly and competently. Yes, she had. What she struggled against now was a young woman’s awareness of candlelit golden hair; a long, lean form with hard muscle moving under smooth, golden-brown skin; the smell of male—a compound with sea brine and sweat and a faint whiff of horse. Unexciting smells when considered separately, but combined, emanating from Tau’s flesh, they evoked all the old passion and desire. And so she pulled the quilt to her nose, sniffing in its faint aroma of mildew, and resolutely shut her eyes. Though she was acutely aware of the soft sounds of shifting cloth as Tau finished undressing and neatly hung up his clothes.
    Then he puffed, and the red light on her lids went out. The bed shifted, and she fell inward as Tau’s weight settled beside her. The aged mattress—stuffed with old horse blankets—promptly slid her toward the middle. She arched away, hoping he wouldn’t think she was encroaching.
    The bed shifted, and Tau said, “My ass aches.”
    She dared the smallest peek. In the cool blue moonlight from the tiny window he was barely visible lying back, arms crossed behind his head. She caught herself wanting to sniff more deeply of his scent, and pressed the quilt firmly over her nose. “Ump.”
    Tau exhaled softly. “All right. Let’s sleep.”
    And—she almost could have counted his breaths—he soon was. His breathing slowed to a light snore that she found amazingly endearing, until he turned to the side and his breathing quieted.
    She lay there staring upward, her emotions midway between laughter and exasperation. Much deeper, her young self wailed over what might have been, and she wondered how many years this night would last. But tiredness conquered awareness at last, and she dropped gradually into a jumble of restless dreams.
    When she woke, the blue light of impending dawn diffused the shadows in the dingy little room. The air on her face was chilly.
    She was at once aware of a warm back pressed against her side. Tau! She eased away, her inner thighs sending white-hot lightning bolts of pain to prickle tears in her eyes.
    “You awake?” came a drowsy, husky voice. “How do you feel?”
    “Sore.” She was not going to say where.
    “Me, too. How can these people do that every day, all day? Though I guess they could say the same about us. I remember when I first came aboard the Ryala, and Fassun set me to the hardest ropes until my hands bled. Kodl thrashed him for it. Remember Fassun? How long ago that seems!”
    Jeje said in a gruff voice, “I hope Testhy is all right.”
    “He would be. He’s like me, always seeks comfort first.”
    Jeje snorted.
    “You don’t believe me?” Tau shifted to face her, raising himself up on an elbow, hand supporting his head. His eyes were clear and smiling, his hair loose and spilling across the pillow; the end of a lock almost touched her.
    Once—after they’d been captured by the pirate Gaffer Walic—he’d cut his hair off with a sword and thrown it into the sea, just because the pirate’s woman Coco had loved playing with it. It had nearly grown out to its old length again.
    Jeje gritted her teeth, her arms crossed across her middle, her hands balled into fists.
    Tau’s brows came together. “Are you in that much pain?”
    A way out of this impossible