Wild Blood (Book 7) Read Online Free PDF Page B

flies from the stable are everywhere.” He swatted one of the offending insects as he spoke.
    “I’ve been watching them load the wagons,” Ria said, scowling. What else would she be doing, and where else could she go to do it properly? “I can’t read the markings on the sacks and boxes and barrels from here, so I try to guess what they are.”
    “You could’ve saved yourself the trouble,” Cyril shrugged. “Mother’s got the whole list of every morsel we’re taking on a scroll in the kitchen, and they’re crossing it off as the stuff is loaded.”
    Ria stifled a retort. What else was there for her to do, after all, with everyone else in the keep so busy and snappish? At least sitting atop the stables, she knew she wasn’t doing anything likely to get her foster parents angry with her.
    Cyril was silent for a long time, staring down at the wagons.
    “What did you think,” he said at last, “about what Father and Mother and Lord Emaril said last night?”
    “It was boring,” Ria said, shrugging. “I slept through most of it.”
    “What about the part about the ceremony?” Cyril asked hesitantly. “Did you sleep through that?”
    “Lady Rivkah said we’d have a ceremony as soon as we reach Allanmere,” Ria said, fishing in the basket for a roll. “Do you think we’ll have a feast, too?”
    “Well, probably.” Cyril gave her an odd look. “What do you think of it?”
    “A feast would be nice.” Ria bit into her roll. “At least if Cook’s coming with us. Then we can see all the people who have come to Allanmere. What kind of ceremony will it be, do you think, a planting ritual, or maybe a Messing on the new buildings?”
    “Ria—” Cyril unaccountably flushed. “They were talking about our wedding. Yours and mine.”
    For a moment Ria’s mind refused to understand, and she sat just as she was, mouth full of unchewed bread, roll and hand poised. Then she flung the roll over the side of the bam, spit out her mouthful, and exploded to her feet.
    “Wedding?” she protested. “I’m not marrying you.”
    “Of course you are,” Cyril said, looking away. “We’ve been betrothed since we were little. You remembered the pledge ceremony.”
    “We were just little children then!” Ria said hotly. “The priest had to tell me how to say half the words. Nobody ever asked me if I’d marry you!”
    “Nobody ever asked me either.” Cyril still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Mostly the children of nobles aren’t asked; they’re told.”
    “Well, I’ll tell you something,” Ria said furiously. “I’m not marrying you, and I don’t care what anybody says about it!”
    Before Cyril could reply, Ria ran to the end of the ridgepole. Too angry for caution, she swung under the beam, grasped both ropes under the pulley, and fitted her small foot into the curve of the hay hook. Letting the pull rope slide through her hand, she lowered herself to the ground at a speed just less than falling, ignoring Cyril as he called after her.
    Now there really was no place to hide; Cyril was in the stable, and all the outbuildings were swarming with servants moving things. Ria stormed back to her room and, for lack of any better hiding place, crawled under her bed, which had been raised high for the sake of coolness in the warm spring weather, and curled up on the cold stone of the floor.
    She expected Cyril to come after her, but it was Lady Rivkah who eventually rapped on the door, then pushed it open. Furious as she was, Ria managed to think herself small and insignificant and invisible. There was nothing her foster mother could say that Ria wanted to hear, not now.
    Lady Rivkah didn’t waste time searching vainly. Her fingertips traced a symbol in the air, and she murmured a short incantation; immediately she turned toward the bed.
    “Come out from under there, Ria,” Lady Rivkah said flatly. “I’m sure you can’t expect to hide under the bed like a mouse forever, not unless you want to be left