Valley of Silence Read Online Free Page A

of war and death, but a symbol of hope and endurance. “A sun. To shed its light on the world.”
    Surprise, with pleasure running just behind it, lit her face. “Aye. You understand my thinking, and the need. A gold sun on the white flag to stand for the light, the tomorrows we fight for. This sun, gold as glory, will be the third symbol of Geall, one I bring to it. And damned to her. Damned to her and what she brought here.”
    Flushed now, Moira drew a deep breath. “You listen well—and I talk too much. You must come inside. The others will be gathering for supper.”
    He touched a hand to her arm to stop her. “Earlier I thought you’d make a poor wartime queen. I believe it might have been one of the rare times I was wrong.”
    â€œIf the sword is mine,” she said, “you will be wrong.”
    It occurred to him as they started inside, that they’d just shared their longest conversation in the two months they had known each other.
    â€œYou need to tell the others. You need to tell them what you believe about your father. If this is a circle, there should be no secrets to weaken in.”
    â€œYou’re right. Aye, you’ve the right of it.”
    Her head was lifted now, her eyes clear as she led the way.

Chapter 2
    S he didn’t sleep. How could a woman sleep on what was, in Moira’s mind, essentially the last night of her life? If in the morning it was her destiny to free the sword from its stone scabbard, she would be queen of Geall. As queen she would rule and govern and reign, and those were duties she’d been trained for since birth. But as queen on this coming dawn and the ones to follow, she would lead her people to war. If it wasn’t her destiny to raise the sword, she would follow another, willingly, into battle.
    Could weeks of training prepare anyone for such an action, such a weight of responsibility? So this night was the last she could be the woman she’d believed she would be, even the queen she’d hoped she might be.
    Whatever dawn brought her, she knew nothing would ever be quite the same again.
    Before her mother’s death, she’d believed this coming dawn was years away. She’d assumed she would have years of her mother’s company and comfort and counsel, years of peace and study so that when her time came she’d be not only ready for the crown, but worthy of it.
    A part of her had assumed her mother would reign for decades longer, and she herself would marry. In the dim and distant future, one of the children she bore would take the crown in her stead.
    All of that had changed on the night of her mother’s death. No, Moira corrected, it had changed before, years before when her father had been murdered.
    Perhaps it had not changed at all, but was simply unfolding as the pages of the book of fate were written.
    Now she could only wish for her mother’s wisdom, and look inside herself for the courage to bear both crown and sword.
    She stood now on the high reaches of the castle under a thumbnail moon. When it waxed full again, she would be far from here, on the cold ground of a battlefield.
    She’d come to the battlement because she could see the torches lighting the playing field. Here the sights and sounds of night training could reach her. Cian, she thought, used hours of his night to teach men and women how to fight something stronger and faster than humans. He would push them, she knew, until they were ready to drop. As he had pushed her, and the others of the circle, night after night during their weeks in Ireland.
    Not all of them trusted him, she knew that as well. Some actively feared him, but that might be to the good. She understood he wasn’t after making friends here, but warriors.
    In truth, he’d had a strong part of making one of her.
    She thought she understood why he fought with them—or at least had a glimmer of understanding why he would risk so much for