Free Blood Song: The First Book of Lharmell by Rhiannon Hart Page A

let Hoggit take care of it.’
    Hoggit. The name was as endearing as his face. I twirled a strand of hair in my fingers, forcing myself to look up at him wide-eyed. ‘But we’re not in any danger, are we? What with the war and all?’
    ‘No, honey, no. Them dirty Lharmellins –’
    ‘Captain Hoggit,’ an imperious voice called from the entrance to the range. ‘Is there something you should be doing, or would you like me to find something for you?’
    Rodden Lothskorn. I dropped the hair I was twirling and folded my arms angrily. Just when I was about to discover something useful.
    ‘Ah, yessir. Going right now. Men!’ Hoggit bellowed, and his soldiers fell in behind him and moved out.
    Rodden strolled over to me, hands behind his back. His eyes took in the reddened lips, the tousled hair. My cheeks started to burn. I itched to tug at the neckline of my gown, to pat down my hair.
    ‘I’ve been watching you. That was either quite a performance or you’re a terrible archer.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said, keeping my voice languid. I notched up an arrow and fired. The arrow sank into the very centre of the target. ‘What do you think?’
    Rodden looked at the arrow, then at me. His eyes bored into mine as though he could see straight through me. He took the bow from me, weighing it in his hands and testing the string.
    Damn, damn, damn! I really should have found a ladies’ bow.
    ‘Your hair. Those eyes,’ he said, and I could tell he wasn’t referring to my make-up. ‘This bow. That shot. Your questions. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.’ He handed back the bow. ‘I’ll be watching you.’
    I wasn’t going to let him see that he’d rattled me. ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I said, and swept past him, putting a little waggle in my step. This flirting thing wasn’t so hard after all.
    ‘Don’t be a tart,’ he called.
    My face burned, but I forced myself to continue across the bailey without changing my walk. As soon as I was inside the keep I dropped my bow and pressed my back against the cold, stone wall. Damn him! Was I ever going to find out anything useful?
    ––
    Rodden had left me no choice. Questions weren’t getting me anywhere. I would have to snoop.
    But what with endless dinners, toasts and high teas to celebrate Amis and Lilith’s betrothal, I found it difficult to get away. I was constantly stuffed with food, plied with cordials and wines and surrounded by tedious people. Nobody seemed to know anything about the war, or they just weren’t telling. Didn’t they care that it was going on right over their heads?
    I was sitting within a gaggle of Amis’s aunts. All they wanted to talk about was the bride and stuff themselves with tiny pink cakes. After refusing a third glass of wine because I was starting to feel tipsy, I gazed around at the sitting room. It was pink and frilly and belonged to Queen Ulah’s sister, Rupa, who lived at court year-long. Rupa was onto her fourth glass and becoming quite cheerful indeed. She and her sisters, Calli and Munah, were discussing the men at court and ranking them in order of attractiveness.
    ‘The Earl of Federna!’ shrieked Calli. ‘Now there’s a man you can hold on to.’
    ‘Yes, all three hundred pounds of him. Honestly, dear, must you always choose the fatties?’ said Munah, shoving another cream cake into her jowls.
    ‘Oh, let her have the fatties. More young and handsome ones for the rest of us, eh?’ Rupa nudged her neighbour, which set the others off and I found I was being hit repeatedly in the ribs by corpulent elbows.
    ‘Speaking of young and handsome,’ continued Rupa, ‘how about that strapping Lothskorn fellow? You know, the prince’s friend.’
    The other aunts clapped and screeched their agreement. I hid a smirk, wondering what Rodden would make of his admirers.
    Rupa turned to me. ‘You know him. I saw you sitting next to him at high table. What do you think of Lothskorn?’
    I considered this. It would be