Lords Of The Dark Fall - Fabian Read Online Free PDF Page A

to compromise their honour and submit to him. Honoured, then executed them.
    “And you are what? The reed that bends in the wind?”
    “Damned right I am,” Tig ground out. “I did what they wouldn’t to save the rest of my family. When Carson made a successful challenge, I offered myself, and luckily he took me as his tenth wife. I gave myself to him and did everything he desired because it was the only way to survive.”
    “You gave in. In my world we would call that a weakness.”
    “I gave what was mine to give. Big difference. I…”
    Fabian smelled the salt of her tears but already knew she was far too proud to let them fall. She had no-one to wipe them away for her so she would sniff them back, straighten her spine and continue to move forward and live her life.
    “In my world, it is customary to give a gift when entering the house of a friend,” he said by way of distraction. “May I assume friendship with you?”
    He heard Tig sniff. Again, she gave an indifferent shrug. “You can assume what you like.”
    “Good. Then I wish to offer you a gift.”
    “A gift?”
    Fabian caught the glint of hope in her voice. The way she leaned forward in anticipation. Had he been home, he would have showered her with gold for saving his life. Now, all he had to offer was this.
    “I will admit that my arm pains me. You may set it and splint it for me, at your leisure.”
    Again, another bark of disbelieving laughter. Wisely, Tig clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the sound. She took a deep breath and composed herself before speaking.
    “Thank you, my lord. You do me a great honour.”
    He inclined his head in acknowledgement, hearing the mockery, but showing that he too could bend with the wind. Adapting to this temporary new home would be difficult, but he would do whatever it took to get him back to Anxur. If that meant letting this woman know he felt pain, then so be it.
    The old leather chair embraced him. He was drifting when Tig placed a mug of something hot and savoury into his hand. A blanket, softer than Cafino’s, settled over his legs.
    “Don’t spill it,” she whispered. “Or drink too quickly.” Her hand wrapped around his to steady the cup and help lift it carefully to his mouth. “Something ate the goat. Desert wolf probably. Storm blew the store-room door wide open. This will dull the pain and help you sleep. I’ll set your arm while you’re out.”
    Drugged?
The room tipped and started a slow spin. Fabian struggled against the effect of the sleeping draught, to no avail. Time, the room, Tig, slid away to be replaced by the sensation of waves lapping gently at the shore. Feeling safer than he had in a thousand years, he spread himself out and let them take him.
    * * * *
    With him here, neither of them was safe.
    Send for a runner
, her better judgement nagged.
Have him collected and pocket the fee. What good will come of this?
    A find like Fabian belonged to the local warlord.
    Damn them. Damn them all
. She found him. His fate was hers to decide.
    “You’re going home,” she told the sleeping figure. “Wherever that is. And if it involves a big reward for me, then so much the better.”
    Fabian tolerated the setting and splinting with barely a whimper. Stoical, even in sleep. “Where else are you hurting?” she murmured. A man this proud would rather die than admit a weakness. If he had internal injuries, she could only wait for him to die and then bury him deep, where no wild beast or man could find him. She didn’t want him to die.
    She found a pot of antiseptic salve to rub into the cuts littering his skin. Too many scars, old and new, for him to be anything but a warrior or a member of one of the war-gangs. Carefully, Tig eased down the blanket to smooth the soothing lotion into the diagonal cut that ran from his waist to his belly-button and then she bound the hole made by the crossbow bolt. She worked diligently, trying in vain to detach from the memory of the crisp dark hair