Free The Sworn by Gail Z. Martin

what a combination of war, famine, and plague had done to Margolan in the wake of Jared the Usurper’s brief, violent reign. It would probably take a generationto restore Margolan to its former prosperity, even under King Martris’s fair and judicious hand. The thought that civil war and poor harvests could wreak the same havoc in Isencroft chilled Cam and made him restless to return to Aberponte. But first, there was Brunnfen to deal with.
    By midday, they crested a small hill. In the distance, Cam saw Brunnfen, and beyond it, the Northern Sea. Brunnfen was just as he had described it to Rhistiart: a fortresslike box of gray stone looking out over a high cliff across the cold sea, as unwelcoming in appearance as he remembered.
    “You weren’t kidding,” Rhistiart said, bringing his horse up alongside Cam’s. “Looks more like a prison than a manor.”
    Too many memories crowded in on Cam at once. “It often felt like a prison, even before things went badly with Father,” Cam said quietly. “Ah well, no use putting it off. Let’s get this over with.” Cam jerked the reins and his horse started down the road toward Brunnfen.
    Before they had closed half of the distance, Cam saw a figure running toward them, waving its arms. Cam’s hand fell to the pommel of his sword out of habit, although he wasn’t quite close enough to hear what the man was shouting. His eyes widened as the runner grew closer.
    “Cam! Cam! You came! I didn’t think you’d really come, but you did! Welcome home! Welcome home!”
    The runner was breathless, stopping just a few paces before Cam’s horse. He was a young man, a few years more than twenty seasons old, with straight, long brown hair caught back in a messy queue. Most of the strands fell into his eyes, eyes that were unmistakable in their resemblance to Carina’s. The man stood a little taller thanCam but was of an entirely different build, almost painfully thin, with an angular face and intelligent green eyes.
    “Renn?” Cam breathed.
    Out of breath, the runner could only nod. Cam slipped down from his horse and approached Renn slowly, and then clasped him tightly in an embrace. “You were barely waist high when we left,” Cam said, his throat tight. “Just a kid.”
    Renn managed a grin. “Yeah, and now I’m a skinny, overworked stand-in for the real lord of the manor.”
    Cam took another look at Renn. Alvior had imprisoned Renn in the dungeon when Renn had discovered his older brother’s disloyalty. Although a summer outdoors had restored some color to Renn’s skin, the young man’s eyes had a hauntedness Cam knew too well was a lasting reminder of captivity. It was also clear from the sinewy muscles in the young man’s arms that he had been truthful about taking an active role in keeping the manor afloat in the absence of an “official” lord.
    Renn glanced at Rhistiart and seemed to look down the road behind them. Cam could guess what he sought. “I warned you Carina wouldn’t be coming,” he said gently. “Just Rhistiart—he’s kind of my squire—and me. Carina’s due to have twins late this fall.”
    Renn met Cam’s eyes with a sad smile. “Twins. That’s what got you two into the mess with Father in the first place.”
    Cam nodded. “Aye. Father might have suffered the ill omen of twins for Mother’s sake, but it was Carina’s magic that he couldn’t abide. And if you’re wondering, Carina believes that it’s likely that at least one of the babies will have her healing talent.”
    “Is she really married to Jonmarc Vahanian? The outlaw?”
    Cam clapped Renn on the shoulder. “Jonmarc’s still the most fearsome fighter the Winter Kingdoms have seen in a long while, but he’s a legitimate businessman these days, amazingly enough.” He chuckled. “Well, as legitimate as any business is in Principality, if you know what I mean.”
    Renn laughed. “I haven’t traveled the kingdoms like you and Carina, but if the tales I’ve heard at the