Free Season of Sacrifice by Mindy Klasky Page A

He didn’t really care what the Service was. It didn’t matter that he had to wait to see Mum. He didn’t mind that he might be away from the Headland for a long, long time.
    He even forgot about the confusing lies and truths and half-truths. He forgot that he meant to explain things to Duke Coren, to tell the lord about the mistakes he had told the people back in the tavern. With the sweet water inside him, Reade stopped caring about lambs and the Song of Sacrifice. Instead, he leaned back against Duke Coren’s chilled armor, shifting a little to ease his bruised shoulder.
    The duke’s gauntleted hands gripped tighter on the horse’s reins, and Reade grew sleepy as Duke Coren’s arms closed around him. He let his head slump against the nobleman’s chest. They rode on for league after league, leading the troop of loyal men over the hills.
    That night, they stayed at another inn. Duke Coren asked about lambs again, and told the villagers about the People needing blood. This time, Maida was held tight at Donal’s side so that she couldn’t run to any of the people in the common room. Donal’s hand looked heavy on her shoulder, and Reade suspected that Maida was being pinched as he had been the night before. Even so, she glared at Reade across the smoky room, daring him to speak up as she had at the King’s Horse.
    Reade remembered that he shouldn’t lie, shouldn’t tell a story with half-truths. He remembered that the men drinking in the tavern were somehow his people, and he owed them true stories.
    But Reade also knew that he didn’t want Maida to be angry with him, and he didn’t want her to think he was a coward. After all, she was his twin. She was his only sister, as Mum always reminded him, the only sister he was ever going to have.
    And so, Reade interrupted Duke Coren to say that the nobleman was wrong. He said that Alana Woodsinger had tried to be nice to Reade and Maida. He even pointed out that the woodsinger had honored him, that she had given him his furze branch when he was the huer. She could never have planned to kill him, not after she had let him cry hevva .
    Duke Coren tightened his fingers into a fist as Reade spoke. His jaw got hard, like he was going to spit something onto the tavern floor. All of a sudden, Reade remembered how the duke had looked back on the Headland, how he had held a knife and glared at Reade when he came riding through the harvest festival. Reade remembered how Duke Coren had upset the first harvest, on top of his roan stallion, leading his dogs. Dogs like Crusher.
    Reade’s heart pounded, and his face flushed. He didn’t want Duke Coren angry with him. He didn’t want to be in trouble. He tried to be good, really he did! Sometimes he just forgot! Sometimes Maida made him forget!
    After a moment, Duke Coren got a sad look in his eyes, just like he had at the King’s Horse. He shook his head and said that Reade was only a child. A child could not truly understand anything about the outlanders. Reade was really just a very little boy.
    And then, before Reade had a chance to say anything more, before he even got to finish his supper, Duke Coren had him carried upstairs, to the sleeping room. For good measure, he sent Maida upstairs as well. The soldier who guarded them did not let them speak to each other.
    Reade was still awake when Donal came in to make his last report of the night. Most of the soldiers were sleeping in a long hall beneath the eaves of the roadhouse, but the duke and the children shared a small room. Maida had already fallen asleep, and she was breathing heavily through her mouth. Reade lay beside her, his eyes closed, but his ears open.
    “Your Grace, may I speak freely?”
    “Of course, man.” Duke Coren’s voice was cold, like Mum’s when Reade made excuses. Reade did not think he would have had the courage to go on, the way that Donal did.
    “You let the boy say too much. Song of Sacrifice? Lamb stew? These villagers won’t know what to