Free The Pale Waters (#1 Reclaimed Souls) by Della Roth Page A

sick
sense of satisfaction. I crouch down and pick up a large, craggy
rock, its weight solid in my hand. It will do.
    “I can assure you that there has been some
sort of misunderstanding,” Roland explains. His arms are
outstretched in what could be considered a peace-offering motion.
So far, Roland has been able to avoid Gryan’s weapon. But I don’t
know for how long. The bear-sized man has never been known to fight
fair, and Galeni has always been known to enjoy causing a
scene.
    “You can assure me?” Gryan spits on
the ground. “Your assurances are worthless around here,
stranger.”
    I take another step toward them and, with a
sinking stomach, instantly notice that the top half of the metal
rod is studded with tiny spikes, rusty hooks, and other
flesh-tearing barbs. I could be wrong, but I think I see dried
blood all over it. I haven’t seen Gryan in a few months, but his
savage behavior seems worse. More barbaric. I wonder what has
caused the change around here.
    “Careful, m’luv,” a soft voice says from
behind me. Dorni. I didn’t even hear her come out of the shanty. In
a moment of distraction, a tentacle-like barb from the spike sinks
into my fabriskin robe. It barely misses my flesh as it grabs the
fabric like a roaring, horned beast, drags me down to the rocky
ground, and tears a large chunk of the robe off completely.
    The crowd goes wild. They don’t care who
gets hurt, or even killed. They want carnage.
    Roland is on me in a flash.
    “What the hell are you doing, Rahda?” he
yells at me, his green eyes filled with worry. He feels around my
legs, searching for an injury, and yanks the fabriskin robe off me
as if it were about to come alive and strangle me. Dorni, like a
skittish dog, quickly snatches it up. She knows that I put The Pale
Waters and the Charm in one of its pockets.
    “Rahda?” Gryan roars feverishly. “I autta
kill you right now, you bitch!”
    “Da Grandfather won’t be likin’ dat,” Dorni
announces, her voice clear.
    Gryan snorts. “Last I heard, the Grandfather
disowned her.”
    I suck in my breath and notice Galeni smile
maliciously. The woman is poison through and through.
    Gryan lifts the weapon, poised to strike
both of us, when, just as the metal rod is directly behind its
master in mid-swing, I remember the rock. I push Roland off me,
flick the heavy stone from my hand, and it crashes into Gryan’s
face. It’s a beautiful image as his head snaps backward, the large
metal rod tilts sideways, and his bear-sized body slumps. His young
wife yelps and quickly runs in the opposite direction into one of
the larger shoppes. I hear several of the children clap.
    The crowd titters excitedly as the bully
falls. His loin skirt flaps up, he is naked underneath, and I
finally understand how Gryan was able to convince three women to
marry him.
    The metal rod slips from his grip, clatters
to the ground haphazardly, bounces sporadically with life, and it
unexpectedly strikes Roland’s calf. Several spikes embed themselves
into his flesh.
    Unknowingly, I had pushed him into the path
of the weapon.

EIGHTEEN
     
    I DON’T KNOW HOW ROLAND MANAGES it, but nary
a sound escapes his lips after he says, “I knew you were trying to
kill me.”
    I hear a quick intake of air through his
gorgeous lips, a long, low hiss, and then silence. If I had thought
at all in that moment, I should have realized that Roland was
joking, that he is used to pain; probably lives with it everyday,
and that he would be fine.
    But guilt has a way of finding those with
secrets.
    Regret wraps me like an infested blanket.
Dark. Dirty. Shame. All of this will get back to my mentor, the
Grandfather. How I behaved. What I did. Any show of emotion. I
can’t act too concerned for Roland’s safety.
    A few yards away from us, young children
kick Gryan’s unconscious form. Most everyone else has left, their
wanton appetites satisfied for the moment. As I stare at the fallen
guard, I know that the man, when he