Free Slumber by Samantha Young Page A

disrupt the peace, despite any inward feelings of anger, passion or violence.
    That night, Chaeron insisted on sleeping on a palet in the room the Dena’s gave me. I didn’t question it.

Chapter Eight
    Wolfe was visibly upset when Chaeron told him what had happened the next morning as we readied to leave. He glanced around to make sure none of the men were listening nearby and then looked at me sharply, penetratingly. I took a step back under his gaze. “Are you alright?” He asked tightly.
    I nodded, perturbed by his seeming concern.
    Wolfe looked at me a moment too long, his eyes teling me he was worried by the news. Instinctively I wanted to reassure him somehow.
    And then I remembered who he was and turned my back on him to mount Midnight.

    ***
    It rained in Raphizya. Not light showery rain to ease our hot skins. Hard, pelting rain that fel down on us in large drops, furious at having been dominated by the sun for so long. My cloak was soaked to my dress like a second skin, making movement on the horse difficult. Not to mention I had to keep puling my cloak closed, my muslin dress leaving little to the imagination as it plastered my body. We stopped at an inn that night and I stood naked by the fire for so long the backs of my legs were blotched red. I didn’t care. I was blissfuly warm.
    The next day the sun was back out but not so hot, and we gathered ourselves together again for a milder, more comfortable journey. I winced at a chorus of sneezing from the men behind me and prayed that none of them were very il.
    When Wolfe stopped us for lunch it was in a wide open field. In the distance we saw cows and sheep in neighbouring farm lands. The grass was as green as green could be, as green as a master painter’s imagination, and a single, beautiful wilow tree attracted the men as they dismounted. Some gathered around the tree, talking and laughing as they sipped thirstily from their water canteens and munched on bread we had bought from the people of WoodMil. I fed Midnight an apple and then left her to graze by the men, needing a moment of peace from them. I didn’t wander far, just enough so that their voices were bels on the wind. Wolfe sat laughing with Chaeron and a few others, munching on some oatcakes. I shrugged off an uncomfortable feeling that had begun to grow on this trip with Wolfe. Like I had misjudged him somehow, unfairly blamed him for his father’s deeds. So far he had proved himself strong and fair. His men loved him and obeyed him, trusted him, despite his young age. Surely that told me a little something of his character. I winced and thought of my parents, mentaly slapping myself for my soft musings. If I felt this strongly, this hateful towards Syracen for what he done, surely Wolfe felt the same way about me and my exposure of Syracen. Frowning, I puled my gaze away from him and grew interested in two of the men training off to the side. They parried and thrust at one another with their swords; easy, fluid, strong. My heart skipped a little as a sudden interesting idea took hold. I lifted up my skirts and strode towards them.
    “Officer Stark, isn’t it?” I enquired softly as I came upon them. “And Officer Reith?” They seemed surprised that I knew them by name but I had an excelent memory.
    “My Lady.” They both offered little bows, their eyes stil wide on me.
    “Please.” I held my hands up. “It’s Rogan. Or,” I noted their appaled looks, “Miss Rogan, if you must. But I’m not Lady anything.”
    “Miss Rogan,” Officer Stark cleared his throat, “How can we assist you?”
    I smiled at them. Now, I couldn’t flirt. I was terrible at it, but I had learned from Haydyn that a soft smile went a long way. And she was right. They seemed to puff up their chests under my feminine attention. “I was watching you train, you’re both very good.” They flushed and began murmuring ‘thank you’s’. I calculated their heights with the happy realisation they were the