Free The Book of Forbidden Wisdom by Gillian Murray Kendall Page B

branches and the sound of Squab chewing.
    The time passed. No one came for Trey to ambush.
    O ur mistake, of course, was to look so fixedly at the Old Road.
    They came from behind.
    I turned in time to see a fair man on foot, his face partially concealed by a hood, burst through the bushes. He pulled me off Jasmine before I could react. Jasmine reared and plunged as I wrestled with the man, almost overwhelmed by the smell of charcoal and unwashed clothes. I saw Silky reaching for the crossbow, but then another man was in the clearing, and before Silky could fit a bolt to the bow, he had dragged her off Squab by her hair. I saw her raking her nails over his face as they went down together.
    Then Trey was there; he had galloped from the road, and he almost threw himself from Bran. The man holding me pushed me down, wheeled around, his leg high, and kicked Trey in the temple.
    Trey fell.
    The fair man then came for me again. I pushed at him hard, and when he fell to one knee, I kicked him and caught him in the chest. A moment later he dragged me to him and held my arms down. His breath was foul. He started screaming in my face, spitting out words.
    â€œYou be Lady Angel Montrose. Ain’t you? You be the harlot. Ain’t you? Ain’t you?” Each word was accompanied by that foul breath and spittle.
    And then he punched me.
    I wanted to crawl away. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Silky was trying to get to me, but the man who had her continued to hold her by her thick gold hair. Then she flung an elbow back and caught her assailant in the ribs; he released her for a moment, and the crossbow, which had fallen to the ground, was instantly in her hand.
    â€œIt’s all right now,” she said to me softly, even as her attacker was reaching out for her. “I’ve got it.”
    She breathed out evenly and took the shot. The bolt hit the fair man holding me; it entered the back of his neck and burst through his throat. The tip of it grazed my cheek, and his blood spattered my face.
    Silky turned to the other man, who, seeing his comrade go down, had hesitated. She was strong with a crossbow, and in a moment she had fit another bolt into the slot, but, with a great cry, the man ran away through the thickest part of the vegetation.
    My assailant lay dead on top of me. Silky came and helped me push him away. She was distressed.
    â€œThere’s blood all over you, ” she said.
    I wiped my face with the hem of my shirt. “Not mine,” I said shortly, out of breath.
    â€œI never thought I’d kill a person, Angel.” She looked woeful for a moment, and then she looked at my cheek.
    â€œMy bolt scratched you,” she said. “I meant it to stop inside him.”
    â€œA scratch is just a scratch,” I said. “You saved me.”
    â€œOf course I saved you,” she said, and she burst into tears. I knew she must be feeling the beginnings of bloodguilt, and I wished I could figure out a way to help her. But one dealt with bloodguilt alone.
    Trey was groggy, although what he said mostly made sense. We decided that the second man probably wasn’t going to come back.
    Squab hadn’t gone far, and Silky walked over to him and took his reins. He nuzzled her with his big old shaggy head, and I thought of how I loved my little sister.
    I walked over to Silky and hugged her, and she looked up at me in surprise.
    Then Trey came over to Silky and me, and despite my thoughts and fears—­against all the rules I’d been taught, against the decorum, the rituals, the modesty that had been instilled in me—­I put an arm around Trey and drew him into our embrace.
    T rey let go first, and we stood apart, awkward, embarrassed. Then Trey turned away.
    Eyeing him, Silky leaned up and whispered in my ear. “Are you going to marry him now ?”
    â€œLike a brother, Silky,” I murmured. “He’s like a brother to me.”
    She seemed to consider