Myla By Moonlight Read Online Free Page A

some things simply had no explanation. They spoke of his father and of Bryton, of the turmoil wreaked by the war and of what plans he had for aiding in the peace talks.
    Myla ate all the strawberries. She also found many of the delicacies to her liking such as the roast goose and crisp greens. She didn’t care for the pickled vegetables and when her nose crinkled, he laughed loudly at her, reaching across the table to touch her forearm.
    Myla studied the man Taric had become. The weight of his rank had sobered the once-laughing youngster and a mature, coolheaded dignitary now sat before her. Although age had not yet marked his skin with grooves and ridges, responsibility had tamed the wildness of youth. Deep as the oldest oak, his eyes were wizened and his gaze perceptive. Not even the casual laughter he shared with her removed the mantle of royalty from his broad shoulders. The hand that one day would hold the ceremonial scepter still lay on her arm, relaxed and gentle but with a power that tingled her flesh.
    He will be the finest king. If there is peace to be found, Taric shall be the one to discover it. Finding a balance within herself—to allow him to grow and become a soldier—had been difficult. So many times, she had to force herself to permit him to fail and learn from his mistakes. He’d been bloodied and bruised and ached with sore muscles, all while she watched and winced. But he’d become a soldier, a warrior who made her proud. Each time he rode into battle, she was poised, ready to leap, to defend but often he didn’t need her. He never counted on her rescuing him but she always would.
    His hand fell away as she raised her goblet, the loss of his touch a near-physical ache. Deep red wine coated her tongue with sensual fruitiness and heated her stomach. Her eyes drifted closed to savor the experience.
    “You like the wine.”
    “I do.” Along with the drink, his voice flowed over her with liquid sensuality and she kept her eyes closed to savor that as well. It seemed little to take, simple words on the air, words that stirred longings too complex to be examined. With deliberation, she opened her eyes and modulated her voice. “Tell me, what of your hired assassin? Was Marchen behind her blade?”
    “I don’t know.” Tossing a crust of bread to his plate, he sighed and leaned heavily on the table. “She claims it was just a man, with no name, who paid her half in advance. The half she took was barely more than a month’s wages for a tavern maid, so it wasn’t a well-paid plot.”
    “She got far closer than many before her. It appears they strike at your weakness, my charge. Whether the price be costly or not, the result would have been the same.”
    “My weakness?” Taric arched his brows and tongued his lip. “Are you saying women are my weakness?”
    “Perhaps, or more likely that you underestimate most females and would not think to have your guard high with them. Women can be as cunning and as deadly as any male.”
    He nodded with a soft snort. “You certainly are. I guess I do think of women as something to be protected rather than feared. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
    She dipped her head in acknowledgment when the twinkle in his eye dimmed.
    “Myla, do you think me weak because I couldn’t send her to her death even though she broke the law?”
    “What punishment did you impose?”
    “Ah, I sent her to…Haverstead for ten summers of labor.”
    Myla canted her head. Haverstead was a dismal, dreary island of no more than three miles at its widest. The land would have been worthless except it boasted the richest soil for medicinal herbs. The very air stank of menthols and foul-smelling plants. Little life existed in the surrounding waters as even the ocean was tainted with fetid odors. Life there was not pleasant in the least.
    “Why? Would you have sent a man there?”
    “No, the law is clear, Myla. In fact, the law is so clear, it states any man found guilty of an