The Betrayal Read Online Free PDF

she took pride in it. Those qualities—all of them, particularly cruelty when needed—had preserved her people.
    The supplicant's shoulders sagged in defeat. “I have a child, too young to be left behind.”
    “A child?” Shalár leaned forward. “How young?”
    “Fifteen summers.”
    Shalár glanced at Dareth, whose face remained impassive. She drew herself up in her chair.
    “Fifteen summers. Too young to be left, yes, but not too young to be of use. Pledge your child to my service and I will give you your kobalen.”
    The female looked up sharply, fright widening her eyes. Her lips formed the word “no,” though she did not speak it. Did not dare, Shalár knew.
    “Under my care, your child will live as well as any in Nightsand. Better than most in the Westerlands. And it will have the advantage of being near other children. Thirty years' service.”
    “She would be nearly of age by then!”
    “Yes, and raised in better circumstances than you can give her. Do you not wish this for your child?”
    The supplicant stared at the stone floor, looking thoroughly miserable. Shalár understood the female's reluctance but was not about to encourage others to implore her aid by granting this one her wish for no return. Charity belonged to the ælven. Clan Darkshore, who struggled to survive in the Westerlands—still struggled after centuries—could not afford it.
    “Thirty years, then she is free to return to you. During that time you shall have your kobalen, and if it dies and you can show the death was not malicious or careless, it will be replaced. In addition, I will send a healer at once to attend to your partner. Perhaps he will regain his strength enough for you to conceive another child.”
    Shalár gentled her voice for this last, intending to give the petitioner both hope and praise for having achieved conception. Few could do so. Shalár, to her infinite frustration, had not.
    A female who had conceived and survived childbirth had a fair chance to conceive again, a better chance than the childless. Shalár knew the importance of every birth to her people's survival and honored this female for her accomplishment even while she envied it.
    They had been so few, those who had reached the haven of Nightsand Bay. Eleven hundreds, no more. Their numbers had grown with painful slowness to a mere three thousand souls and of late, to Shalár's great dismay, had begun to diminish again. Hardship, the despair of having lost Fireshore, grief for those who had fallen at Westgard—all had taken their toll on the survivors. And hunger, always hunger—the hunger that had cost them everything.
    Shalár turned away from such useless thoughts. Finding that her gaze had strayed to the tapestry, she looked back at the petitioner. The female was sitting on her heels, staring blankly at the floor.
    “Take a night to consider my offer. You will be received when you return.”
    Shalár signaled to an attendant, who came forward to help the female to her feet and lead her away. Dareth waited until she was gone from the room before calling the next.
    The rest of the petitions were commonplace, and Shalár dealt with them swiftly. She could have entrusted them to Dareth or even to an underling, but she preferred to keep an eye on her people as much as she could.
    When the last supplicant had been ushered from the chamber, Shalár stood up and stretched, the pointed sleeves of her dark red tunic brushing about her legs. An attendant brought forward a tray of fruit and roasted nuts. Shalár took a morsel, though she hungered for another kind of sustenance.
    All her people hungered so. It was the single thing that bound them to her more than any other. That wretched female who had lost her kobalen hungered desperately, no doubt.
    She would return to accept Shalár's offer. Shalár wished to help her, but it must be at a price. Clan Darkshore could not afford that she should give away their resources. The pens held kobalen, yes, but