Thorn Read Online Free PDF

swallow a nervous laugh. “I don’t even know who I will travel with. How can I avoid them?”
    “Be vigilant,” he presses. I wonder if he even heard me. “Do you understand, my lady? You are in danger until you reach Tarinon. Even there, you may not truly be safe.”
    No, I think. There is the prince to worry about, and a court more powerful and sophisticated than ours, and no one who speaks my language but the king and a sorcerer with veiled warnings.
    Behind him, the shutters crash open with the shrieking of wood, splinters and panels flying into the room. He cries out, spinning towards the window. Light explodes, outlining his profile in blazing white, momentarily blinding me.
    I squeeze my eyes shut, huddling beneath the covers. When I open them again the light has diminished to bright moonlight. Amid its pale, cruel rays stands a woman. She is ancient, older than the very land. Her skin is smooth and pale as milk, her hair shining and dark. But her eyes—they are cavities in her face: deep, bottomless pits. They hold me tightly in their grasp and I cannot move to look away. Then she turns her gaze from me, dismissing me.
    I find myself gasping for breath. I realize dimly that I am still crouched in my bed, the man having backed up to the foot of it. They watch each other steadily. I sidle to the edge of the bed, glancing sideways at the man, seeing him clearly for the first time. He seems almost familiar now in the cold wash of moonlight, for he at least is human. Long night-dark hair tied back, high cheekbones, defined jaw—his profile imprints itself on my mind in the moment that I see him—and then my eyes fly back to the woman as she raises her hand and snaps it through the air. The man staggers sideways, towards me. I scrabble to my feet, shocked by the line of blood that appears on his cheek. His eyes pass mine, intense, turning back to the woman.
    “Leave,” the lady says. Her voice is the murmur of water on rocks, of snow falling on oaks. The man shakes his head, braced against another attack. “The girl is mine, as are you.”
    “No,” he says, but the word is that of a little boy’s plea. He falters under the woman’s gaze. Her eyes , I think. And then, he is not my enemy . It seems crystal clear to me with the moon shining in, lighting up the room with its strange whiteness.
    “No,” I agree, my voice strong and resonant in the stillness. “You are not welcome here. Leave us.”
    When I look into her eyes I see my death looking back.
    “I will teach you your place, girl,” she says tightly. Her hand comes up and I see the glint of a gem on her finger. Beside me the man shifts, bracing himself as if expecting a blow—or perhaps expecting to catch me as I fall.
    “No,” I reply, my voice trembling. “You cannot own me.” And then, as if the man has thrown the words to me like a lifeline, as if he has whispered them in the back of my mind, “You have no power over me.”
    For a moment that lasts a lifetime she stands unmoving, hand raised, and then she smiles: a terrible, terrible thing that turns my blood to ice in my veins. “No,” she agrees, “over you I have no power. But do not think you are safe; you are mine as surely as if your mother swore you to me before your birth.
    “Tonight it is not you I am concerned with.” She turns back to the man and her hand reaches out, gesturing elegantly towards him. “It is you.”
    He cries out, throwing his arm up to ward off her casual attack. Light envelopes him: bright, blinding light that sears my vision, scorches my mind—a light that floods the room and takes all detail with it. The lady, my room, all disappear, and I am falling through the shadows of my life further and further away from the moon.

 

Chapter 4

 
    My last day at home passes in a whirl of errands—packing last items; reviewing my trousseau and jewelry with my mother a final time; receiving farewell visits from whichever court nobles wish to curry favor with