Nor Iron Bars A Cage Read Online Free PDF Page A

But his own hand dropped to hover near his belt knife. “Show me.”
    “Go to Na’s own hell.”
    He shook off my best glare like he didn’t even see it. “Show me what you have, or I’ll force you. Is it a weapon? Or some mark of damnation?”
    I laughed, and the sound hurt my own ears. He winced, but didn’t take his fingers from the hilt.
    “Oh, I’ve done damnation,” I said gaily. “And believe me, this isn’t it.” But I could tell he’d follow through with his threat, so I pulled my hand out from under my elbow and waved it at him. “Lovely, right?”
    It actually wasn’t that bad. The fingers were untouched, although a little thin from disuse. It was the way they curled in to my palm, and the hand in turn curled toward my wrist, that looked horrible. Like a claw, frozen in a coil of unnatural tension. Living hands were not made to look like that. But since the moment I’d set a flame to the tendons of my wrist, to wrest myself free of the wraith, I hadn’t had a living hand.
    He grunted like he’d taken a blow, and dropped his fingers away from his knife. “The fire.”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m so sorry.”
    “Nothing to do with you.” I couldn’t drop the light, happy voice, although he winced again when I used it. “It’s been a long time. I hardly even notice now.”
    “Stop!” He went to his knees in front of me, reaching for my hand, but when I drew back out of reach he didn’t pursue me. “Don’t pretend.”
    “I’m not pretending.” I smiled to show him I meant it. “I’ve learned to do everything left-handed. My penmanship is better than it ever was. I’m fine.”
    “Lyon.” It came out a groan.
    I kicked at him, one foot catching his hip and spilling him on the floor. “And you wondered why I never wrote you.” Here was a lie that would serve me, twisted up in truth. “I can’t stand that look. Don’t you dare pity me. I’d like to see you have the guts to burn…” I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.
    He rolled to his feet and asked slowly, “Burn what?”
    “Nothing. Go away and leave me alone. Tell your king you couldn’t find me. Tell him I died. Or tell him to have some scribe trace the document and bring it and I’ll translate it. For free, even, since he’s a friend of yours. Just go.”
    “I can’t. He’s my liege and has my oath. And he’s your king too.”
    “I really don’t care.”
    “But I care for you. I don’t want to see you get in trouble or hurt. More hurt. There is no spell holding you here, is there?”
    I glared at him.
    “Be reasonable, lion-boy. He commands you.”
    “Don’t call me that!” I surged to my feet, facing him, furious. He was ripping open all the old wounds today. “Just get the hells out of here!” I set my hand on the back of the chair, swaying and hearing the rush of blood in my ears.
    “All right.” I must have looked bad, because he backed away from me, hands held out at his sides. “Listen, I’ll go away for a bit. But you know he is king. If he wants you in court, sooner or later you’ll have to go.”
    “The hells I will.”
    He backed toward the door. “I’ll come back later. You should maybe eat something. Think about it a bit. How bad would it be, really, to come with me? It would be like the old days, but with horses. You and me on an adventure. Five days ride, a little job for your king, and I promise I’d escort you all the way back. You’d not be gone more than three weeks, maybe less. And well paid for it. And we could catch each other up on old times. How bad could it be?”
    “Worse than the fire,” I said, and meant it.
    When he was gone, I had barely enough strength to shut and bolt the door before dropping back into my chair. I pulled my feet up on the seat, heedless of my shoes on the fine leather, and wrapped my arms around my knees. How bad could it be?
    Part of me wanted to go. Oh Mother Bian, the picture he painted. Tobin and me riding side by side, comrades again. And not