Myla By Moonlight Read Online Free Page B

assassination attempt is to be put to death. It says nothing of a woman.” His smirk was far too satisfied and cocky. She laced her words with warning.
    “Taric, you may seek to be merciful to whomever you wish, but be firm. The next time a female attacks, will you be able to be so lenient? What if she had injured your father or your stepmother? Could you be so kind if it was your child a woman sought to kill? Set the laws fairly and uphold them. Do not allow for compassion to her gender to color your view. Never underestimate a woman with a blade.”
    Jaw firm, he studied her and his cockiness fled. “Wise counsel, my guardian, and you know me well. I’ll remember your words.”
    A nod lowered her lids. Without asking, he poured more wine into her cup. “Can you read my thoughts then?”
    “No.” She shook her head but then paused. “Well, sometimes when you are very determined, certain thoughts do echo quite loudly. But most times, it is more a sense of your emotions, your impressions, a shifting in the world around you. It is very hard to explain. I just know when you need aid. Last evening I nearly came too late and for that, I am eternally sorry.”
    “Too late?” Pushing away from the table, Taric leaned back into his chair and fixed his eyes on her. “You kept the woman from stabbing me, how is that too late?”
    “I—I was attempting to give you some privacy, Taric. My gift is foreshadowed knowledge of when you shall need me. When danger prickled my spirit, I at first mistook it as normal…excitement. I erred.” Her cheeks heated and she wondered if the wine was to blame or the sudden comprehension on his face.
    Shifting in his seat, his gaze dropped to the table. “Oh. I see. Uhm, has that happened before? Your…confusion when I, uhm, am with a woman?”
    “Only once before. You were much younger. That time when I realized…the reason for your…racing heart, I simply returned and slept. You were so…entangled, I knew my return would be unnoticed.”
    Taric bit his lip. “How young?”
    “I believe she was your first woman, judging by the nervousness I also felt.”
    Myla cast her eyes around the room, unable to meet his laugh. Edgy with untasted emotions, she leapt up and paced. The movement felt good, stretching muscles she had not yet used since taking form. The heavy weight in her stomach was not unpleasant but it did make her feel slothful. She was a weapon first and foremost and likely to become rusty if not honed and used as intended.
    For the first time, she took note of his chamber, feeling his gaze on her back as she walked the room’s length. Her fingers reached out to touch the stone wall. She smiled. How smooth it was. She pressed her cheek against it, letting the cool rock chill her skin. Pulling away, she looked around at the décor.
    Taric had changed little while growing and bits of his personality were strewn about. An array of feathers tucked behind a small painting of a hunting scene recalled many happier times for him. Each bird represented a great accomplishment and a fine feast for him as a youth. Beneath her feet, a rich rug in forest green warmed the stone. The hearth boasted a seating area and a mantlepiece decked with memories—his first stag antlers, a festival ribbon, the knife he and Bryton had used to make themselves blood brothers, a framed drawing of his parents’ wedding.
    A carved animal caught her eye and she crossed to the fireplace. A jaguar no larger than her hand and painted a glossy black snarled with one paw raised. The carving churned the meal in her stomach. Taric had placed her with his most cherished things. The upswell of emotions came too powerfully and she turned from the mantle.
    A thin book and a bowl of peanuts rested on the stand by his bed. Wide and plush, the bed lacked the swags of many others she had seen through his eyes but she knew why. Taric felt closed in behind fabric walls and couldn’t breathe. He slept best with the night wind