Knight's Blood Read Online Free PDF Page B

polished root at his elbow, hauled in deep breaths, then the sensation passed as quickly as it had come. A moment later it was as if he’d never felt sick, and the sense of well-being returned. Increased, perhaps. He smiled at Brochan as the faerie continued the conversation as if he’d not just watched Alex nearly vomit.
     
    “I suppose it’s to your unending credit that nobody has attempted to attack you by searching out a flaw in your claim. Even the most entrenched laird might find himself subject to such trouble, were he a stranger.”
     
    Alex shook his head and grinned. “Nah, you see, I’ve got the laird of the MacNeils backing me up. Good old Hector, of Barra.”
     
    “Do ye indeed? And how did you manage that wondrous coup?”
     
    Alex chuckled, amused by the memory of how that had worked out. “I didn’t even have to make up the story; it just sort of all fell into place because everyone assumed I was his father’s illegitimate son. Apparently the old man was a horndog of some sort and littered the landscape with kids. All Robert needed was to hear my name, and he assumed I was one of those sons.”
     
    Brochan erupted with uproarious laughter, and Alex wondered what was so funny about that, but continued. “Eventually I was forced to tell Hector the truth. That I’m from the future.”
     
    “Or the past.”
     
    Alex frowned, but went on. “He found out Lindsay was a woman—”
     
    “He learnt you were banging your squire, and ye did not want him thinking she was a man.”
     
    Alex shrugged. “In short. So I ended up telling him the whole truth. He came to know that I’m descended from his own people and has kept my secret. He’s my friend and still thinks of me as his brother. He’ll back me up if anyone tries to give me guff.”
     
    Brochan adjusted his seat and leaned forward again with great interest. “So tell me, Sir Alasdair an Dubhar MacNeil of Eilean Aonarach, if ’twas yourself who ruined Nemed’s spell, why is it you’re the one wanting to kill him and not the other way around?”
     
    Alex’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t told that part yet. “How did you know I ruined the spell?”
     
    “By flying through it, ye sumph. It couldn’t have been good, and such a spell must have taken a great deal of power to knock out your engines.”
     
    This faerie was finally making sense, but he did seem to be entirely too cognizant of specifics Alex hadn’t mentioned. “Yeah. The engines.” He fell silent and let a long pause string out. Glancing around, he noticed the crowd in the room had dwindled. Many who remained were fast asleep, snoring little faerie snores in the dimness of fires reduced to coals. How long had he been there? It seemed only moments, but at the same time it felt like forever. Days, maybe. How many times had he eaten since sitting down? Had he needed to pee? He couldn’t remember. Surely he must have.
     
    An overwhelming sleepiness descended on him as quickly as had the urge to vomit. Alex leaned back against the cushions behind him, just to rest for a moment.
     
    But when he opened his eyes again the room was lively with people. Instead of feeling refreshed by his sleep, he was groggy as hell. He blinked through a haze thick enough to have been smoke from the fires, but it was only in his head. A cuach was thrust into his hands, and he drank deeply, thirsty and hungry. He ate from a plate of food someone gave him, and looked around for Brochan. The faerie with the gold belt appeared immediately, in a hurry from another part of the complex of burrows.
     
    “So! Continue!”
     
    Alex plundered his brain to remember where he’d left off in his story, but everything in his head was as fuzzy as the air seemed to be. He’d slept, he was certain, but had no idea for how long, and he didn’t feel rested at all. He felt as if he could go unconscious again at any moment. He leaned heavily on the polished tree root beside him and struggled to stay