Free Destiny's Star by Elizabeth Vaughan

puppy.”
    Ezren looked at the two kneeling before him, their heads bowed. So young to be so intent, so serious. Had he looked like that to old Joseph Taleteller? “Yes,” he heard himself say, not really aware that he had changed his mind. “Tell him I am honored.”
    Bethral spoke, and both Gilla and Lander jerked their heads up with wide smiles.
    Ezren drew a breath and spoke fast, before his brain could catch up with his mouth. “And ask him to take a message to Haya for me. I will tell a story tonight.” He couldn’t believe what he was doing. The sick in the pit of his stomach grew. “Tell him to spread the word, then come back here, and we will start to teach each other.”
    Gilla and Lander jumped up, their faces filled with delight as Bethral spoke. They raced off before Ezren could reconsider, calling back what had to be their thanks.
    “Bravely done, Storyteller.” Bethral lifted her eyes to his. Dare he think there was a hint of admiration there?
    More likely she was proud that her “stray” had grown a backbone. That was what Red Gloves had called him back in the barn when . . . He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to think of other things. “And what do all those references to snow mean?”
    He had caught her off guard, and an embarrassed flush rose on Bethral’s cheeks. “To go to the snows means to die.”
    Ezren grunted, then stood, brushing off his trous. “I thought so. I would remind you, Lady, that I am city born and bred. I need a guide to return to Palins. Alone, I would wander these grasses until I died.”
    Bethral’s gaze dropped to the dagger in her lap.
    Ezren looked at her golden head, and hated himself. It was his fault she was here, injured, forced to sacrifice herself for his worthless hide. Something clenched in his chest at the idea, but he forced it down. Not now. . . not here . . . he’d not fail her again.
    “So.” His voice was rougher than normal. “I am going to go find more kavage. Then you had best help me pick an appropriate tale to tell, Lady. For I doubt very much these people will comprehend Romando and Julianna.”
    Ezren strode off, ignoring Bethral’s snort of laughter behind him.
    And trying to ignore the churning in his stomach.
     
     
    TO Bethral’s delight, Haya’s tent wasn’t big enough.
    The young warriors helped Bethral shift to the wooden platform, braced by a mound of pillows. A stool had been placed for the Storyteller, who sat as if facing a tent crammed full of Plains warriors was an everyday event.
    They were rolling up the tent walls now, allowing even more people to crowd in, yet still breathe.
    Bethral had to admit that she had butterflies in her stomach, since her job was to translate Ezren’s words for the crowd. She wished she could figure out a way to stand that would allow her to make sure she was heard, but she wouldn’t be able to last through an entire tale. The pain was bad enough just being shifted to this part of the tent.
    Ezren Storyteller seemed calm with Lander kneeling on the other side, ready to provide whatever he needed. Those two had been together all afternoon, pacing around the camp. The Storyteller had claimed he thought better on his feet, but Bethral was sure he’d been working off his nerves.
    He wasn’t the only one with nerves. Status was important to these people, and Ezren’s performance as a singer was the turning point. Ezren had decided on a story to tell, but had refused to share the information. He had, however, promised to talk slowly, to allow her to translate as he spoke. Bethral wasn’t sure that would work for the telling of a tale, but they’d make do with what they had.
    Ezren stood, and waited as everyone sat and grew quiet. He looked around the tent, gathered their attention, and then bowed his head to Haya and Seo, who were seated before him.
    They returned the nod, clearly pleased at his civility.
    He raised his hand, palm up, as if holding out an invisible gift. To