Lyrie had gathered her belongings and what supplies she thought she might need, stowed them in her knapsack, and sat waiting. She would have gone after Terryll, but she had no way of knowing which way he'd gone, and even if she found him, she knew she'd be of little use to him in a battle. She could only hope he would somehow come out of it alive. She felt as if it were her fault he was there in the first place. She was past crying, though. She would merely wait. If Terryll somehow managed to survive and return, she would leave with him. If the Earl returned without him, she would face her punishment for killing Lord Klaye, even if it meant death. Likewise if Lord Ryndor found her. And if all else failed, she still had Lord Klaye's dagger and knew how to slip it between her ribs into her heart.
It was nearly midday when she finally heard footstepsapproaching. Her pulse quickened and she stood with anticipation, but the manwho appeared from the trees was not the man she hoped to see. It was Everild.
YOU ARE READING
On the Black Wind to Baldairn Motte
FantasyPlunged into a war of succession, Terryll Payce, captain of the Black Wind, and Lyrie, a whore from a high-end brothel, are forced into the service of the powerful Earl. Ensnared in a tangle of bargains and betrayal, Terryll and Lyrie fight for surv...
