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Also written by Rachel Rossano
The Mercenary’s Marriage
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/83328
The Crown of Anavrea
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/96223
Exchange
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92034
Word and Deed
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/121981
Coming Soon
Wren (A Romany Epistle Novel)
Wren
A Romany Epistle Novel
An excerpt -
Snow turned the courtyard into a mess of slosh and muck. The space didn’t welcome the kind of activity I intended. My hands itched to grasp a weapon and everything in my being screamed that I should destroy something. Not a safe state of mind for plotting logically or sitting still. I strode through the slush to the heavy keep door. The great hall would work perfectly for my short term plans, open area and shelter from the elements.
I turned back before opening the door. Wren was close on my heels.
“Care for a round of sparring?”
Her strange eyes cleared from worried brown to an amused amber. “Do you have an extra sword?”
I shook my head as I shoved the door. “I was thinking along the lines of staffs or cudgels, something that won’t kill you if I miscalculate.”
“Miscalculate? You should be a bit more concerned about me hurting you.” The wooden door closed behind her with a muffled thump. “Do you want to be disturbed?” She indicated the repaired bolting system.
“Lock it. Let them wonder if we are killing each other.”
The worn stone floor, spread with rushes, lay empty. An old trestle table dug out of storage rested against the far wall, and the newly-beaten tapestries adorned the walls. I ignored them. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. I needed to drive history from my mind, far from my mind. Exercising until I was too exhausted to think would numb the pain. It would distance the ache enough so I might progress beyond the inclination to kill the enforcer slowly with my bare hands. He killed my parents!
“Weapons?” Wren’s voice cut through my thoughts at just the right moment.
“Take your choice.” I indicated the rack of various implements next to the trestle table. Walking to the far end, I shed layers of clothing down to tunic and britches. “Are you sure you are up for this?” Discarding the last overtunic on the heap, I shivered in the frigid air. I welcomed the discomfort.
“Of course,” she said from right behind me. “On guard.”
A wooden club whizzed past my head. Striking the wall inches past my shoulder, it clattered to the floor. I stared for a second. Gone was the quiet, withdrawn woman I thought I knew. Hair wrapped around her head, stripped to her leather jerkin, shirtsleeves, and leggings, she moved like a sleek cat, feminine, yet deadly. Confidence radiated from her as she whipped another cudgel into her dominant hand.
“Remember what I do for a living.”
She advanced and I retreated to the fallen weapon. Scooping it into my hand, I swung it up into a defensive stance seconds before she struck at my shoulder.
I retaliated with a series of strokes that should have reduced her to begging for leniency. Instead, she met me hit for hit, backing away into the center of the room. Although she gave ground, I grew wary. She was holding back. Fury boiled in my belly.
I changed my attack. After feinting to the left, I jabbed at her right. She took advantage of a small defensive weakness and landed the first blow, a hard jar to the ribs. I renewed my onslaught, taking a risk. She saw the move and sidestepped at the last moment, dancing out of my reach. Breathing hard, we faced each other.
“The point of this was for me to work out some frustration.”
“I know.”
“This is hardly satisfying.”
She laughed, a clear sound that echoed in the rafters. “I am not about to submit to a beating just to help your frustration level. I will help you wear yourself out, though.” She leapt forward and attacked again.
Coming Soon
Word and Deed
(a short story)
An excerpt -
Three days later, I rose from bed. The afternoon sun shone beyond the lattice, beckoning me. The sight nurtured an already restless spirit into mobility. I was intent on a turn in the garden, at least a semblance of freedom for my tortured soul. My body still ached and sudden changes threw my balance, but I fixed my purpose and pressed forward.
Ealdine, having used two of the three allotted hours on breaking fast and serving the midday meal, would not return until after nightfall. That gave me time to creep down the stairs to sit in the sun at least.
Walking across the warped floor boards proved an uneventful task. However, upon opening the door to the sight of the steep descent to the ground two levels below, my grasp of balance wavered. I dropped to sit on the doorsill and lowered my head into my hands.
“Might I assist you?”
I lifted my head and instantly regretted it.
“Steady, miss, steady. Don’t go toppling on me. I don’t wish another death on my account.”
I blinked in the sunlight, struggling to place the source of the voice. Finally, a movement brought my focus to where the stairs spilled into the garden. He stood, left boot on the first step. Gaining only an impression of graying brown hair and sun-browned hands, I lowered my head once again.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Bryn Wolfe of Ardenstain. And you?”
“I am Verity Favian.”
“Ah, you are the maid in the tower. I was warned about you.” He stepped off the bottom of the stairs and leaned against the tower wall, his face still in shadow.
“What warning?”
“’The maid yonder has a shrewish tongue.’”
“Hardly a warning since I am already betrothed. If you no wish to listen, you can leave.”
“Ah, so I heard. It is to the Silvaticus, the crazed.”
Straightening my shoulders, I glared down at him for a moment. “I will not allow you to speak thus of my betrothed.”
Surprise brought back his head. He lifted his face to the sun to peer at me. The light revealed tan skin and a cloth patch strapped to his face where his left eye should have been. It was a countenance one would remember. I knew almost every man in my brother’s service. This scarred man was a stranger.
“You know your husband-to-be then?”
“Nay.”
“Then why prevent me from speech when I speak truth born of knowledge?”
“It is not fitting to speak thus of others.” I peered at him from my perch. “You are not of my brother’s men.”
“Nay, I arrived with the men sent ahead to prepare the way for Silvaticus.”
My back tingled, suspicion bringing my pride to bear. “You are here to evaluate the goods,” I accused. “Why else would you be permitted to speak with me?”
“I was not permitted.”
“Then why are you here?” My head ached. I normally enjoyed verbal play. Today it made me dizzy.
“At the moment? To offer aid. I spotted you at the door and witnessed your stagger. I feared you would tumble down the stairs.”
“Silvaticus would be sorry to lose such choice coastline,” I observed.
“Nay, I didn’t wish to see you break your fair neck.”
Contrary to my expectation, he didn’t look at me as he delivered the sweetened line. Despite the fact I believed he did not mean them, the words still warmed my cheeks and burned my ears. What business did a servant have speaking such to a maid? The answer was none, yet I was pleased.
I brushed aside the notion without much thought. It was simply the delusions of a woman barren of the hope of love. Attention starved, I swooned at the smallest turn of a pleasant phrase.
I intended to give Bryn Wolfe a rebuke only to find him gone. No sign of him remained. As Ealdine’s voice called to me from within, I resolved to not mention the stranger.
I rubbed my throbbing temples. I didn’t believe I dreamed him, but considering the condition of my head, I preferred caution.
Available Now
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/121981
http://www.amazon.com/Word-and-Deed-ebook/dp/B006WQM2NE
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
About the Author
Duty: a novel of Rhynan Page 26
