Free Misery's Child (The Cadian Chronicles) by J. B. Yandell Page A

beating of her heart.
    Hear it, she
prayed. Don’t imagine it: hear it.
    “I hear the wind,”
she whispered. “It blows from the east, and I can smell the salt of the sea in
it. I can’t feel it, it blows so gently, but I can hear the leaves that rustle
behind us.”
    “Very good....
What else?”
    “The cries of
gulls. And over the next hill, there are sheep in the field. I can hear the tearing
of the grass as they graze. I hear two heartbeats, mine and then, more softly,
yours beside me.”
    “Concentrate.”
Yanna’s voice was in her ear now. “Will your heartbeat to match mine, pulse for
pulse, rhythm for rhythm.”
    She inhaled
slowly; once...twice...three times... And then the two beats merged.
    She listened and
felt the pulse beating beneath her own skin. Far away, two other rhythms came
to her: quick and fast, the heartbeats of the two soldiers who accompanied
them.
    Her eyes flew
open.
    “Someone else is
here.”
    Yanna snapped to
her feet. She’d been concentrating so hard on Lillitha she had not even heard
the stranger’s approach.
    “Dwain, Garvin.”
Her voice was low and steady, but her eyes flashed in every direction. “Someone
is coming this way.”
    Two boys, hands on
the daggers at their belts, appeared from the edge of the wood. They looked far
more frightened than either the cadia or the girl.
    For several
moments, Yanna saw no one, though she could hear not one but two strange
heartbeats now herself. One belonged to a horse, she was sure of that even
before the dull clap of hooves reached her ears.
    Lillitha looked at
her with wide, uncertain eyes.
    Then he appeared
over the hill, a lone man on horseback. Neither he nor the horse seemed to be
in any hurry. Yanna relaxed her guard slightly but did not take her eyes off
him.
    “Hallo!” He doffed
his cap to reveal a nearly bald head and smiled
broadly. He drew in his reins and halted a respectable distance away. “Oman be with you, sister! I dinna mean
to startle you. Mayhaps, you can tell me if I am near the vidoran of Kirrisian?
I asked directions of an old man outside a tavern, but he seemed a bit daft, if
I may say so.”
    Yanna quickly
assessed his dress and the trappings of his horse. He wore a general’s tunic
embroidered with the Tiran crest. In the center of his chest dangled a large
medallion that glinted in the sun.
    “Oman be with you, my lord general.” Yanna inclined her head
respectfully. She glanced at the two boys behind her and they retreated, daggers
sheathed. “The House of Kirrisian lies ahead of you on this very path. In the
name of Vidor Rowle, I bid you welcome.”
    “Ah, then you are
attached to his household?” The old soldier beamed. “Excellent! Do I surmise
correctly that the young lady behind you is Rowle’s daughter? The Lady
Lillitha, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, my lord
general.” Lillitha curtsied and offered up a tentative smile. “Are you
acquainted with my father then?”
    “Aye, child! A
good bit more than acquainted, I dare to say. I am Bastrop y’Tira .
Your father and I served our time in the border army together.”
    Lillitha’s face
lit up in genuine pleasure. “My father has spoken of you often, my Lord
Bastrop! He will be so pleased to see you!”
    “Don’t believe a
word he says about me,” Bastrop grinned. “Your father is a terrible liar.
Sister, might I offer you or the Lady Lillitha my horse?”
    “Thank you, but
no, my Lord Bastrop. We have not yet completed our morning constitutional. It
is kind of you to offer. I am certain we shall see you upon our return.”
    The lord of Tira
bid them good-bye and trotted off down the path.
    “How lovely!”
Lillitha exclaimed as she watched his back grow smaller. “I wish we had guests
every day.”
    Yanna chose not to
hear the remark.
    “Lillitha, you
must be careful to keep your wimple in place.” She adjusted the linen kerchief,
pulling it firmly back onto the girl’s head and tucking a stray curl back
underneath. “Oman’s