Free The Ruby Dream by Annie Cosby

bed alone now, throwing indignant looks at his boy.
    “These children will be the
death of me!” shrieked Maisie.
    Sarah moved hurriedly
around Wyn, checking all his injuries as though she was a doctor, and I sat
gently on the edge of the bed, carefully lifting Wyn’s hurt leg back onto the
tower of pillows.
    “No, no, no! You, up!”
Maisie screeched. “You’re going to bed this instant!”
    I grinned at Wyn. We
wouldn’t share a kiss in front of the brooding mother hens, but I knew he
wanted to as he took my hand and squeezed, his mahogany eyes twinkling, before
Maisie ushered me out of the house.
    I skipped into the house
ahead of Maisie, eager not to let her ruin my wonderful mood with her moping.
The sick little lamb was still curled in the corner by a fire now extinguished,
and I picked him up and took him to my bed.
    I pulled my hair out of its
bun and climbed into bed, putting the lamb against my side, where he’d be warm.
My quilts felt comfortable and warm compared to the night outside. But my heart
was on fire.
    I’d loved him all my life,
and now I knew. For sure. He wanted me, and he wanted to go away with me so
badly he’d built an entire ship. A ship named after me.
    Despite the setbacks, I
knew we’d go one day. We’d go away together, someplace where we could kiss all
day, and I’d read more books than I’d ever seen, and maybe there would be mages
across the sea that could tell me if I really had mage blood in me. Maybe the
hummingbirds would come with us, flying along behind the boat …
    I was awake before I even
realized I’d been asleep.
    The night outside my window
was black as coal, but the moon cast a small yellow square on the trunk beside
my bed. I looked around, unsure what had woken me. The little lamb wasn’t
beside me anymore. As my mind adjusted to consciousness, I felt that familiar
feeling.
    The one of being watched.
    That’s when I saw the
little lamb, standing in the corner of the room, his little limbs shaking.
    “Hey you –”
    There was someone in the
room.
    The breathing I heard
stepped out of the shadows to become a tall, dark figure at the foot of my bed.
    I drew in a giant breath to
scream, but a hand clamped over my mouth. Another figure was at the head of my
bed.
    I thrashed around, tearing
my arms and legs about, kicking and punching and shaking my head, a bitter
taste between my teeth. But there was more than one pair of hands.
    I tried to scream into the
airless chamber, but my words were caught by a leather, gloved hand cupped over
my lips. A sickly vapor was filling my lungs as they fought for air. My muffled
screams barely made it to my own ears; I could hear only the little lamb
bleating lamely, and then a matching gloved hand covered my eyes.
    The blackness seared at my
lungs until there was nothing.