Free Crystal Moon by Elysa Hendricks

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    gentler note. “Tell me what happened.”
    The woman stuttered her reply, clutching her uninjured child
    to her ample bosom. With every word, Kyne’s gaze grew harder.
    When she finished, he turned toward the two boys, playing as
    men, who stood awkwardly holding their swords.
     
    “The rest of you go about your business. You two, stay.”
    Without protest, the crowd dispersed. They talked in hushed
    tones, the bustle of the hall muted by the near tragedy.
    On quivering legs Sianna started to back away as well, but
    Kyne reached out and pulled her to his side, an arm wrapped
    around her waist. Shaken, she accepted his body’s warmth and
    support. A split second later and the boy’s head would have
    been severed from his body. She shuddered, and Kyne’s arm
    tightened. With a sigh she leaned into him.
    “Come,” he commanded the boys and led them out of the
    hall. He pulled Sianna along. In the castle courtyard he stepped
    away from her and turned on the boys. “Fighting in the hall.
    You are beyond foolish.”
    “We only want to learn, Rul,” one boy spoke defiantly. “We
    meant no harm.”
    “Is that what you would tell the lad’s mother when her
    child lay dead, his severed head at her feet?”
    The boy blanched. The other boy, the one who had swung
    the sword, turned and vomited onto the cobblestones. Sianna’s
    empty stomach churned at the image Kyne’s words invoked.
    Thank the moons she’d been quick enough to avert the tragedy.
    “You wish to learn to fight. Very well. Graham,” he called.
    Graham stepped forward out of the crowd and looked at
    the two white-faced, trembling boys. “Yes, Rul?” Sianna could
    feel his repressed humor.
    “I have two new recruits for you. See that they begin
    training immediately. In the yards, not the hall. Pay special
    attention to this one’s aim.” He pointed at the sword wielder,
    then turned back to Sianna. “You have my thanks for your
    timely intervention.”
    His stiff, reluctant words left a sour taste in her mouth. He
    didn’t want to thank her, but he felt he must. “To have worth,
    gratitude must be freely given.”
    Anger swiftly followed surprise in Kyne’s eyes. “You dare
    much.”
    Though her body still quaked, she met him stare for stare.
    “The condemned have little to lose.”
    “Father! Father!” Zoa cried. “I saw it. Sianna saved Titus.
     
    She’s a hero, isn’t she Father? Just like Cimene, the goddess
    who rescued the moons from being devoured by the darkness.
    Now you have to give Sianna a reward, like Sol rewarded
    Cimene.”
    Like a fresh breeze, Zoa’s excitement dispelled the tension.
    Sianna smiled.
    Zoa stopped for a moment to cough, but Sianna was pleased
    to note it sounded much better. A few more healing sessions,
    and Zoa’s health would be fully restored.
    “A reward, Father. Give Sianna a reward.” Zoa turned her
    gaze on Sianna. “You are brave. Just like Father.”
    “I’m not all that brave. Anyone would have done as I did, if
    they had been close enough.”
    “If I were brave and deserved a reward, I would choose a
    quinar of my very own. Would you like a quinar? Beba just had
    two foals.”
    Kyne frowned. “A quinar is not possible.”
    Because of Zoa, Sianna didn’t voice her hurt at his attitude.
    Other than being born her father’s daughter, she’d given Kyne
    no reason to distrust her. Remembering her charade of being
    Laila, and all he thought her sister had done, her resentment
    faded.
    “Zoa is right.” Kyne’s softer tone drew her gaze. “You
    deserve not only sincere gratitude, but a reward for saving the
    lad’s life at the risk of your own.”
    “There was no risk,” she objected.
    Kyne shook his head. “The blade missed your head by a
    mere hair. In fact.” He reached out and pulled her tangled hair
    forward.
    Sianna swayed as she saw where a clump of hair had been
    neatly sliced away. His hand on her arm steadied her. Death
    had come so close. Would he care? Her gaze