Herd Mistress (In Deception's Shadow Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

ankle. When he jerked, trying to free his foot, the stem
he was using as a hand hold ripped away from the wall. He flailed in an attempt
to catch his balance and lunged for another solid perch. The trellis shuddered
under the impact, and for one moment of endless horror he thought the whole
mess was going to collapse.
    Shivering, he braced against the trellis and cursed
himself for a fool twice over. Then he took a quick inventory. A fine lattice
of scrapes crisscrossed his skin and his knuckles looked like he’d been grinding
them against stone. On further inspection, his knees and elbows had fared no
better. He rotated his ankle to the delightful sensation of sharp little pains
biting down hard, but at least nothing was broken.
    He looked up and then down. Sorsha’s window was closer
than the ground. When she returned, perhaps she would apply ointment to the
cuts and sooth the hundred other little aches with hot poultices. The thought
of her gentle hands on his body decided him.
    With a surge of renewed energy, he started to climb
again.
    The last bit of the journey had a nasty surprise of
its own. An ambitious climbing rose had strayed over from another trellis three
body lengths away and was trying to conquer the ivy’s trellis too. Shadowdancer
grunted in pain as the thorns caught in his right forearm. He tore himself free
from the clinging rose thorns, and then heaved himself up onto the window
ledge. He’d just swung a leg over the window sill when the rose bounced back.
It gave him one more parting gift in the form of a slap of thorns across his
bare rump.
    Overbalanced, he fell forward into Sorsha’s room, his
one foot caught on the window ledge prevented him from getting his feet under
him and the floor rushed up to meet him. Breath exploded from his lungs with a
hiss, and he just lay there, gasping for several moments. When he could breathe
again, he turned his head to one side and stared at the space underneath
Sorsha’s bed. A storage chest blocked part of the view. He propped his chin on
his hands and looked around.
    The floor wasn’t so uncomfortable, maybe he’d just
stay here.
    Creatures were never meant to walk on two legs. It was
unnatural.
    But here he was; a Santhyrian stallion of royal
lineage, helpless and trapped in a man’s body. At the very least, he should
meet Sorsha with some semblance of respect. He picked himself up off the floor
with a grunt of pain. A blanket was draped over the storage chest. He grabbed
it and swung the heavy cloth around his body. The rough texture of the fabric
rubbed against his many scrapes and bruises. When the hundred minor wounds
screamed at the friction, he changed his mind and folded the blanket over his
least injured arm. Perhaps if he sat and draped it over his lap?
    He took a step toward the chair and the thorn
scratches running along his rump changed his mind. No, no sitting down.
    He turned his attention to the bed. It had a large
draping canopy, and the curtains were already drawn, so no one would see him if
they should enter Sorsha’s room before she returned. And the area between the
edge of the bed and the wall offered a space wide enough for him to squeeze his
body into should he need a better place to hide.
    Bemoaning his own stupidity, he crawled on the bed and
lay face down. It could have been worse, he supposed. His bones were whole and
only his ego had sustained serious damage. Sorsha would laugh at him for days
once he recovered. If his ego was going to take the brunt of the abuse, he
might as well milk the situation and see what kind of sympathy he could
persuade Sorsha into offering him. With a chuckle, he dropped his forehead to
rest on his folded arms.
     

Chapter Three
     
    A latch clicked. Metal grated softly on metal as a
bolt was slid back. Shadowdancer jerked awake and looked up in time to see the
door swing inward. Sorsha entered, candle in one hand and a goblet of some
liquid in the other. He inhaled. Ah, spiced wine. The