Only the Destined. Морган Райс

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ fight his way through a whole town. It was bad enough that Gwylim was still pacing beside them, looking far too large and frightening for a wolf.

      They walked into the place, looking around the ramshackle buildings while heading down toward the docks and the waiting ships. Most of them were little more than fishing boats, but some of the whaling ships were larger, and in among them were cogs and long ships that looked as though they might have been there to trade.

      There were taverns where Royce could hear the sounds of drunken celebration and occasional violence, and market stalls where it seemed that rancid meat and fine foreign goods were set side by side.

      “We should spread out,” Matilde said. She seemed to be eyeing a tavern.

      Royce shook his head. “We need to stay together. We’ll head to the docks, find a ship, and then we can explore.”

      Matilde didn’t look happy with that, but even so, they headed down to the docks. There, things appeared to be proceeding lazily, with sailors up on the decks of ships standing around or sitting in the sun.

      “How do we do this?” Mark asked, looking around. “I guess finding a captain who will head to the Seven Isles won’t be easy.”

      Royce wasn’t sure there was a good answer to that. As far as he could see, there was only one option, and it was anything but subtle.

      “Listen to me!” he called out over the vague hubbub of the docks. “I need a ship. Is there a captain here who is willing to sail to the Seven Isles?”

      “Is this entirely wise?” Bolis asked.

      “How else are we going to find someone?” Royce asked. Even if they walked into the taverns and asked quietly, the news would quickly get around. Maybe this way was even better. He raised his voice. “I’ll ask again: who will take us to the Seven Isles?”

      “Why do you want to go there?” a man’s voice called. The man who strode forward wore the bright silks of a merchant, and was barrel bellied with too much good living.

      “I’ve business there,” Royce said, not wanting to give away more than that. “There are people who would hire my and my companions’ skills.”

      The man came further forward. Royce watched his face, searching for any sign that the man had recognized them. There was nothing, though.

      “As what?” the man asked. “Are you jesters, jugglers?”

      Royce thought quickly. Maybe they couldn’t pass for mercenaries so easily, but this…

      “Of course,” he said. He very carefully didn’t look Bolis in the eye. “We have an engagement in the Seven Isles.”

      “The money must be good for you to go there,” the captain said. “Which means you can pay, yes?”

      Royce took out a small pouch. “Up to a point.”

      If it got them to where his father was, he would pay every crown in the purse and more. He threw the purse in the captain’s direction. The other man caught it.

      “Is that enough?” Royce asked.

      That was the other danger. The captain could turn around and take the money, running back to his ship, and if Royce did anything to try to stop him, it would only make it clear who he was. For a moment, everything seemed to stop.

      Then the captain nodded. “Aye, it’s enough. I’ll get you to the Seven Isles in one piece. After that though, you’re on your own.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      Genevieve stumbled away from the town in a daze, barely able to believe what had happened back at Altfor’s castle. She’d gone there full of hope, yet now she felt as though there was nothing left inside of her. She’d thought that with the duke’s forces defeated, with Royce victorious, she might be able to go to him, might be able to be with him.

      Instead, her mind’s eye took her back to the sight of the ring on Olivia’s finger, proclaiming her engagement to the man she loved.

      Genevieve staggered as her foot caught on a rough patch of ground, pain flaring in her ankle as it twisted. She limped on, because what else was there for her to do? It wasn’t as if there was anyone to help her out there on the heather.

      “I should have listened to the witch,” she said to herself as she kept walking. The woman, Lori, had tried to warn her that there would only be misery if she went to the castle. She had shown Genevieve two paths, and promised her that the one that didn’t lead to Royce was the one that would make her happy. Genevieve hadn’t believed her, but now… now it felt as though her heart was breaking.

      A part of her wondered if it might still be possible to wander in the direction of that second path, but even as she thought it, Genevieve knew that the possibility was gone. It wasn’t just that she wasn’t in the same place now. It was the fact that she’d seen what had happened with Royce, and she could never be happy with anyone else.

      “I need to go to Fallsport,” Genevieve said. Her hope was that the route she was taking would lead her to the coast. Eventually, she would get there, and there would be a boat that would take her where she needed to go.

      Sheila would be in Fallsport by now. Genevieve could go there with her, and they could work out a way to make the best of everything that had happened, assuming that there was a best. Was there any way to bring something good out of a situation where she was pregnant with Altfor’s child, and the man she loved had abandoned her, and the whole dukedom was in chaos?

      Genevieve didn’t know, but maybe with her sister’s help, they would be able to think of something.

      She continued across the heathlands, hunger gnawing at her, tiredness starting to build up in her bones. It might have been easier to bear if she had known exactly how far she had to go, or where she might next be able to find food, but instead, the heather just seemed to stretch on forever ahead of her.

      “Maybe I should just lie down and die here,” Genevieve said, and even though she didn’t truly mean that, there was a part of her that… no, she wouldn’t think like that. She wouldn’t.

      Off in the distance, Genevieve thought she saw people, but she walked away from them, because there was no way that meeting them could turn into anything good for her. As a woman alone in the wilds, she was at risk from any group of deserters or soldiers or even rebels. As Altfor’s bride, the people of Royce’s army had no more reason to love her than anyone else.

      She walked instead, heading away from them until she was certain they were out of sight. She would do this alone.

      Except that she wasn’t alone, was she? Genevieve put a hand to her belly, as if she could feel the life growing within. Altfor’s baby, but also hers. She had to find a way to protect her child.

      She kept walking, while the sun started to fade toward the horizon, lighting the heather in motes of fire. It was a fire that didn’t do anything to keep Genevieve warm, though, and she could see her breath starting to mist the air in front of her. It was going to be a cold night. At best, that meant she would have to find some hole or ditch in which to huddle down, burning whatever peat or bracken she could put together to make a real fire.

      At worst, it would mean her dead out here, frozen to death on a moor that had no kindness toward the people who tried to walk СКАЧАТЬ