Free Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade by Kathryn Le Veque Page A

it furiously.
    “Get her into the
water,” Stephen directed. “Hold on to her so that she does not slide under.”
    “We will lose our grip
on her in the water,” Tate didn’t want to have to hold her by her hair as she
slipped around in the tub. “Like so much dead weight.”
    “Have a better idea?”
    Tate’s solution was to
step into the tub, fully clothed, and sit down in the water. Stephen helped him
adjust Toby so that she was lying on top of him and he had a good grip around
her waist. The servants continued to pour water and with the next cold dousing,
Toby went rigid and a hoarse cry escaped her lips.
    “My God,” she rasped.
“They are trying to kill me.”
    Tate’s mouth was
against her right ear. “Nay, mistress,” he said softly. “We are trying to help
you. Your fever is out of control and we must get you cool.”
    She was semi-lucid,
unsure of what was happening to her. She looked at Stephen, unrecognizing, and
began to panic.
    “Let me out,” she
struggled against Tate’s iron grip. “Let me out!”
    Stephen gently but
firmly pushed her back. Getting a good grip around her waist, Tate put a hand
over her forehead and held her back against his shoulder.
    “Calm, Elizabetha,” he
murmured against her ear. “No one is going to harm you, I swear it.”
    Ailsa ran up to the
tub, putting her little hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Be quiet, Toby. You
must not be upset!”
    Toby focused on Ailsa,
the only face she recognized. “Wha… what devilry is this?” she panted.
    Ailsa shook her head.
“You are ill. The knights are trying to help you.”
    Toby grasped the front
of Ailsa’s gown with one hand as if the little girl would save her, but her
struggles eventually eased and her grip relaxed. Breathing quickly, like a dog
panting on a hot summer day, she closed her eyes and surrendered against Tate’s
powerful body. The strength to fight was leaving her.
    Tate felt her go limp.
He and Stephen passed concerned glances as the servants continued to fill the
tub. Stephen had a grip on her wrist, feeling her fast, weak pulse. He didn’t
like it. As the tub filled and her blood continued to race, he shook his head.
    “This is not a good
sign,” he murmured. “She is not calming.”
    “What about your
brew?” Tate was genuinely concerned. Stephen did not raise an alarm for no
reason.
    “Another minute or so
for full potency.”
    Tate fell silent but
it was apparent that he was searching quickly for a solution. His mind was
never idle nor was he familiar with surrender. 
    It was deathly quiet
in the room but for the pouring of water. Then, Ailsa thought she was hearing
things. There was a low hum in the air that would rise and fall in rhythm. She
was so concerned with her sister that it took her a few moments to realize that
Tate was singing. His lips were pressed against Toby’s right ear, his soft
baritone filtering through her fever-hazed mind. It was a miraculous sound and
Ailsa was entranced; her sweet little face lit with a smile as the air was
filled with the gentle sound of Tate’s voice.
    To the sky, my sweet
babe,
              The night is
alive, my sweet babe.
    Your dreams are filled
with raindrops from heaven;
              Sleep, my
sweet babe, and cry no more.
    It was a lullaby, sung
from mother to child. Ailsa had heard Toby sing it before, though it hasn’t
sounded nearly as beautiful as when Tate sang it. Tate glanced up at Ailsa when
he had finished the verse and, seeing her smile, gave forth the second stanza.
    Your heart is light,
my sweet babe;
              Your slumber
is divine, my sweet babe.
    The angels hold you,
my arms enfold you;
              Be at rest,
my love, for you are ever mine.
    A peaceful hush had
settled over the room. Like an attempt to quiet a fussy baby, there was a
fragile spell in the air. Ailsa’s voice shattered it.
    “Sing the fairy song!”
she cried.
    Startled, the knights
shushed her in unison. Justifiably