Free The Gray Wolf Throne by Cinda Williams Chima

like maiden’s kiss.” Maiden’s kiss was a spring flower that bloomed for a day and shriveled at a touch.

    “Her Majesty has been melancholy lately,” Byrne went on.
    “And no wonder. There is constant pressure from the Spirit clans, from the High wizard and the wizard Council. That, along with your absence . . .” His voice trailed off. “i did not want to leave her at this time.”

    “it’s my fault you had to leave her, Captain,” raisa said, again feeling the crush of guilt.

    “if i were assigning blame, your Highness, i would not begin with you.” Byrne plunked his saddlebags down in front of raisa.
    “what food i have is in there. we’d better eat, then get some sleep so we can move when the storm is over.” He stood, lifting the pot of water, and ducked out through the branches to water the horses.

    By the time he returned, raisa had rummaged through his saddlebags, pulled out a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese, and set them out on cloths. Byrne divided the cheese with his belt dagger and handed half to her, then carved off thick slices of bread. when the food was gone, he slapped the blade thoughtfully across his palm.

    “Do you carry a dagger, your Highness?”

    raisa nodded. “i do, as a rule, but Micah and Fiona took mine.”

    “Then take this one.” He wiped the blade on his breeches, returned the blade to a sheath at his waist, then unbuckled the belt, handing the whole package to her. raisa slid the blade free, 63

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    turning it so it caught the light. it was of the same make and design as the Lady sword, with the image of Hanalea worked into the hilt.

    “i can’t take this!” she protested. “it belongs in your family.”

    “i’ve not much use for it, in fact,” Byrne replied. “if i let an enemy get close enough to need it, i deserve what i get.” He raised his hand to forestall further protest. “At least carry it until we reach Fellsmarch.” He yawned. “we’re not going anywhere until this storm goes south, so we may as well get some sleep.” He unrolled his blankets in front of the makeshift entrance and slid under them.

    raisa crawled into her own bedroll, which was laid close to the fire. She set the knife in its sheath by her left hand. Their frail shelter trembled under the assault of the witch wind, and snow sifted down through the branches. “i’ll pray to the Maker that the storm moves on,” raisa said sleepily.

    “Be careful what you pray for, your Highness,” Byrne said, his face turned away from her so she couldn’t see his expression.
    “we could use a little wind to move the snow around. we’ll be easier to track when the weather clears.”
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    old enemies
    The wind began to dwindle sometime before dawn. raisa awoke to the sudden quiet and the realization that edon Byrne was missing. She sat up, shivering, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes with the heels of her hands. Byrne’s blankets were rolled and tied, and a pot of tea steamed over the rekindled fire. A breakfast of more bread and cheese was laid out just outside the fire ring. The message was obvious: Byrne meant to make an early start.

    raisa stood and stretched, gingerly massaging her hip bones and backside. She had too little padding to enjoy sleeping on the ground. Unwinding the linen from around her neck, she scraped the poultice free, hoping Byrne wouldn’t insist on replacing it.
    She ate quickly, washing the dry breakfast down with tea, then began layering on clothing. Her socks and gloves were dry, but stiff and uncomfortable.

    when she stepped outside, carrying their remaining gear, she was confronted with one of those transformations that are 65

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    common in the mountains. Stars glittered over the peaks to the west. where the thick pines blocked the wind, the ground was covered with a thick layer of new snow, pristine and virginal, in some places drifted higher than raisa’s head.