Free Quick, Amanda by The Captive Page A

once again,
    trimming the branches from a tree near the side of the house. He could have used a ladder; instead, he
    had climbed the tree simply for the fun of it, something he hadn't done since he'd been a boy. He climbed
    higher, and now he was on a level with the second story. Overcome with curiosity, he leaned forward
    and looked in the window, and knew immediately that it was Ashlynne's room. The walls were painted a
    soft pearlescent pink, the carpet, which seemed to be over an inch thick, was a deep mauve. There was
    a large round bed with a pink flowered spread and a matching canopy, a desk and chair, a shelf that held
    books and trinkets. The room was as pretty and feminine as the girl who lived there. He drew back a
    little when the door opened and Ashlynne stepped inside. Closing the door, she sat on the edge of the
    bed and kicked off her shoes, peeled off her stockings. She fell back on the bed, lifted her arms, and
    stretched. Rising, she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it on the bed. Falkon felt his mouth go
    dry, thought he might fall out of the tree when she started to remove her skirt. She turned abruptly, her
    eyes widening when she saw him staring at her. With a little shriek, she grabbed her sweater and yanked
    it over her head, then crossed the floor and opened the window. "What are you doing? How dare you
    spy on me! When I tell my father, he'll–" "I wouldn't tell your father if I were you." "Well, you're not me!
    And I will tell him. And he'll have you flogged." "No, you won't." She lifted her chin defiantly. "I will." He
    shook his head. "I wonder what Daddy would say if I was to tell him that his daughter and her friend
    were sneaking around the mine compound late one night." She stared at him in horror. "You wouldn't!"
    she exclaimed, and then shrugged. "He wouldn't believe you anyway." "No?" "No," she replied firmly.
    But what if he did? She'd never be allowed to see Magny again if her father found out what they had
    done. "I'll keep your secret," Falkon said, grinning impudently, "if you'll keep mine." "Oh! You are the
    most… the most, oh, I don't have a word bad enough for what you are!" "I could teach you one." She
    glared at him. "I'll just bet you could!" "In several languages," he said, laughing. "Oh, you are the most
    incorrigible man I've ever met." "But handsome," he said. "Don't forget handsome." Embarrassment
    washed over Ashlynne as she realized he had heard them whispering about him outside the hut that night.
    "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Why don't you go away!" And so saying, she reached out the window and gave
    him a shove. She didn't push very hard, but it was hard enough to make him lose his balance. Muttering
    one of the words he had offered to teach her, he fell out of the tree. She felt her heart fall with him, blew
    out a sigh of relief when he landed on his feet. Falkon looked up to find her leaning out over the
    windowsill. For a moment, he thought she looked concerned, but then she began to laugh. Someday, he
    thought, glaring up at her. Someday…

Chapter Seven
    Falkon prowled the confines of his room, as restless as any caged beast. He had come to hate this place
    as much as he had hated his cell in the mine, as he hated any place that walled him in. He yearned for his
    freedom, for news of the war on Taran Three. Had the Romarians overtaken the planet? And what of
    Daccar? Was his home still free, or had it fallen prey to the Romarian hordes? He muttered a vicious
    oath. It seemed the leaders of Romariz wouldn't be content until they had enslaved the whole galaxy. He
    stared at the wall in front of him; then, with a savage cry, he slammed his fist against it. His people were
    fighting for their lives and he was trapped here, forced to do menial work for the Tierdian royal family
    and their spoiled daughter. Their spoiled beautiful daughter. Ashlynne, with hair the color of silver
    moonlight and eyes the color of a turbulent sea. Ashlynne, who had not hesitated