Shadow Of The Winter King (Book 1) Read Online Free

Regel could hear the slave weeping loudly enough to fill the hall. He slipped a dagger through the jamb of Paeter’s latched door and lifted. The door creaked open.
    Paeter stood over the slave in the middle of the room. In the years since Lenalin’s death, much of the lordling’s once impressive collection of muscles had gone to fat and wild red hair bristled in patches along his limbs. He was mostly nude, and Regel could see—with some satisfaction—that the brutish prince could not stand to the task at hand. He would be impotent in life and in death.
    Instead, Paeter held aloft a weapon far more dangerous: his dueling sword, which he dangled over the cowering slave. A red slash cut across her cheek, dripping blood.
    “Here’s coin for you,” he slurred. “Coin for all of you!”
    There was no time for a proper challenge, and in truth, Regel was grateful. Letting his mind fall still, he darted across the room and smashed his elbow into the side of Paeter’s head. The bigger man reeled three paces and collapsed to the floor.
    Regel thought he had never stuck such a satisfying blow.
    A whimpering sound reminded him of the slave Paeter had brought into that room. Blood streaked down her face from where the prince had cut it open, but her gray eyes were wide and attentive. There was power in those eyes. Fire. Her thin-lipped mouth seemed drawn inward in thought as she watched him, fascinated.
    “No fear.” Regel dropped to one knee and reached for the slave, but she cringed. He looked down at his black-gloved hand, a touch of sadness in his heart. He withdrew.
    “Kill you...” Paeter half-rose, eyes red with drink and anger. “Kill...” His eyes rolled and he slumped back to the floor.
    “Unlikely,” Regel said.
    The wounded slave drew in a sharp breath when Regel looked at her but did not otherwise flee. There was fear in her eyes, but strength too. Perhaps, as Paeter would be his blade’s last victim... perhaps he could find a new path. They both could.
    Regel’s leather gloves creaked as he released the hilt of his blade. He held up two fingers. “There are two moments where a man is weakest. The first is when he takes a lover. You will remember?”
    Her face showed first confusion, then a wary understanding. She nodded slightly.
    “I am not here to free you,” Regel said, “but you may free yourself if you will it so.”
    She nodded again, wide-eyed.
    “You will say nothing of this.” Regel knelt and put a pouch of coins into her left hand. “Walk out of this place and do not return. Do you understand?”
    “What if—?” Her voice was soft but steady. “What if someone stops me?”
    “None will stop you. You’ll not let them.” He drew a short knife from his belt, put it in her right hand, and curled her fingers around it. “Do you have a name, child?”
    Marveling at the beautiful steel in her hand, she shook her head. Of course she had no name. Most of the poor of Tar Vangr had not earned one. She looked up, expectant, but he shook his head.
    “It is not for me to name you. If you would have a name, you must name yourself.”
    “Serris,” she said, her voice soft and crackling like embers. “For the angel.”
    Paeter moaned and swore. His wits were returning, and Regel knew the time had come for him to conclude his night’s business.
    “A fitting name,” he said. “I will see you marked as well.”
    “I... I already have a mark.” She reached up to the slash on her cheek. “Given me by a prince. You have a greater name than his?”
    “No.” Regel noted her obvious wits: to know the Crown Prince of Tar Vangr was no mean feat for a slave who had likely never set foot outside low-city. “Then you are named and marked. I take you for my Squire, Angel Serris, and I will be your Master, if you will have me.”
    She looked surprised, but not displeased. What he had proposed to this girl he had just met was a great intimacy and responsibility. She would be his Blood in all but name,