The Stumpwork Robe (The Chronicles of Eirie 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

easy grace of the Raji.
    ‘On your way, scoundrel. I am within my rights to truss you like the overfed chicken you are and bury you in the sand to your white, fat neck and with one swipe...’ The blade whistled sideways and a thistle was beheaded, it’s flower lying on the cobbles, mauve petals broken and scattered.
    Bellingham pulled his breeks up into his crotch and turned to Ana, his wide jowls trembling. ‘This isn’t finished, beloved. Next time this sand savage won’t be around. I have rights now. Betrothed men always do.’ Ana gasped, her mouth opening and he sneered. ‘Oh by the spirits, your mother hasn’t told you.’ He pealed into hysteric giggles as Ana heard a far-off voice from the mists saying, 'Go on.  Walk away and keep walking.'
    ‘Enough, lard-face. You try me.’ Kholi moved closer to Bellingham, the exotic robes blowing around him and his eyes glinting as the scimitar was weighed and measured.
    Jonty turned with a wilted attempt at nonchalance. ‘You and I, Ana; we are betrothed now. Your mother and my father have signed us together. To be married the week after your brother. So till later, love of my life.’ He sauntered awkwardly to the corner at the top of the lane leaving Ana bruised and almost broken. Kholi undid his cloak and wrapped it around her as she began to shiver. The brightness and expectation of her day had cracked as the words ‘We are betrothed now’ spilled forth and wave upon wave of fear and disillusionment rolled across her. Kholi placed an arm around the girl and guided her towards the Tavern as a figure hurried into the lane.
    ‘Ana. Gracious, girl. I’ve been waiting for a half hour. Jonty said he saw you just now, that you had an accident.’ Marte eyes drifted over Kholi.
    ‘Indeed Madame. She has,' he said.
    ‘Well thank you kindly sir, I’ll take my daughter now.’
    Something about the oddly protective tone in her mother’s voice jerked Ana from the silent place to which she had retreated. She threw up her hands and brushed her mother away. ‘Did you betroth me to Jonty Bellingham?’
    Marte looked at her daughter and all Ana could thi nk was of secrets revealed, of mother and son knowing but unable or unwilling to tell her. She almost turned away but her mother's hand reached out. ‘Ana, please,’ her voice pleaded, ‘you have to understand. The farm... Fiona’s dowry...’
    ‘DID YOU BETROTH ME TO BELLINGHAM?’ She would not be pleaded wit h, she would not be a commodity.
    Her mother stood fingering the wallet at her waistband, silent, face frozen. Ana sucked in a breath and turned sharply, picking up the folds of the cloak to run as fast as she could, as if distance from her mother was the only thing she craved.
     
    Kholi Khatoun slipped the scimitar back into the blood-red sash. ‘Lady, I shall find her and see her to your home. You must not worry.’
    Marte nodded, pulling at a small, embroidered kerchief.
    Kholi coughed politely. ‘Lady, I realize this is not my business but that Bellingham to whom your daughter is betrothed, he just assaulted her. I was witness. Such a man should be castrated…’ He broke off. Folding his hand across his heart, he bowed. ‘Lady, forgive me.’
    Marte seemed to draw herself up. Her soft li ps stretched into a tight smile, the blue eyes glinting like glaciers. ‘Thank you for caring for Ana and I would appreciate it if you could send her home should you see her. Other than that sir, it is as you say, none of your business.’
    ***
    No woman could ever understand how Ana felt after that two-pronged assault. To be manhandled was one thing but to be sold off as if she were a slave by her mother and brother was another thing again. She felt filthy on the one hand and frightened and disillusioned on the other. Her sense of self-worth plummeted to hell and beyond at that point. She had barely raised herself above the ground that day, a little seedling just beginning to stretch toward the sunlight after the