Free The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3) by Jennifer Blackstream Page B

forest, taken her in, loved her, raised her. They lay on the ground, flesh torn, eyes blank and unseeing. Their blood covered the green grass, painted the emerald blades a shining crimson in the moonlight. It was their blood she tasted, their blood that covered her with imaginary slickness. She had chased them through the forest where they’d found her, she had caught them, she had…
    Tears welled up in her eyes and she clawed at the blankets, fought to free herself from their constricting grasp. A sob bubbled up her throat and she locked her teeth together, set her jaw. She would not cry and she would not give in to hysterics.
    Slowly she registered the sunlight bathing her bed, the contrast between that golden light and the cold silver moonlight of her dream.
    “Morning.” She grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled hard until the pain helped her focus, helped her tear her thoughts from the nightmare and everything it meant. “Today is the day. He said he would come, he would be here, he would—”
    A timid knock at her door stopped her rambling. Her heart leapt into her throat and she gripped her covers so tight her nails threatened to rend the fabric to shreds. He’s here.
    “Lady Marian?”
    The voice was hesitant, as if the speaker were loathe to wake Marian from her sleep. A female voice, so soft the door nearly muffled it entirely. But then, Marian had exceptional hearing.
    Stiffening her spine, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and forced fresh air into her lungs. The scent of flowers wafting in her open window almost overcame the stale odor of her own sweat and the phantom scent of imagined blood. When she felt she could speak with a calm voice, she answered.
    “Come in.”
    The door opened and a maid stepped inside. Her white apron was already smudged with dust and soot, a sign she’d been tending her duties when she’d been sent to Marian’s room. Her eyes remained resolutely on the floor, and she nervously ran her hands over her apron, leaving more smudges.
    “You have a visitor, Miss Marian. He says his name is Robin—”
    “Send him up at once!”
    The maid startled, eyes bouncing up to meet Marian’s face, her lips parting. Marian pressed her lips together, but it was too late to take her exclamation back now.
    The maid’s brown eyes bulged from her pale face, arms going limp at her sides as she appeared to realize the implication of the command. “Miss?”
    Pressing her hands into the bed's downy comforter, Marian leaned forward, jutting her chin out. “I said send him up immediately.”
    “B-but… Surely not here , miss? Not to your…” She trailed off, looking for all the world as if she were about to faint dead away at the very idea of a strange man being invited into her mistress’ bedroom.
    Marian bared her teeth, her nerves still raw from her nightmare, her temper too close to the surface to bother with appearances—or patience. “Now!”
    The last drop of blood drained from the maid’s cheeks and she bolted like a fawn, ash-stained skirts flaring behind her as she scurried out the door. Marian slid off the bed to retrieve her robe from the sofa pressed against the footboard. The silk garment  painted a slash of burgundy on the sapphire blue upholstery and at first glance, it almost looked as though a wild animal had drawn a sharp claw over the cushions, leaving a bloody—
    A cry rose on her lips, but Marian swallowed it back, snatching up the robe and pivoting away from the sofa. Determination wove through her muscles, forcing the images from her nightmare away as she closed the distance between her and the white marble fireplace. She gripped the cold mantle, filling her lungs with air tinged with the scent of cold ashes and the remnants of last night’s fire. Two polished golden urns painted with a gardening scene against a red background graced either side of the mantle and she glanced back and forth between them.
    Her parents’ ashes. All she had left of them,