Blood Mercy by Vela Roth EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author:Vela Roth
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The Cloak
CASSIA NEVER KNEW WHAT MIGHT prove to be her most effective means of defense.
Sometimes it was a stray word uttered out of earshot that she read on the
speaker’s lips. Other times it was her handmaiden’s lips, which were useful
for spreading rumors, for the girl said too much to a particular guard in
exchange for his kisses. Today it was a cloak.
Cassia sat in her chair with perfect posture and rearranged the mantle
across her knees, the better to display the hole that gaped in the otherwise
flawless lambskin. In the stifling air of the hearth room, her legs sweated
beneath the fleece.
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The seamstress stood over her. A band of late afternoon light slanted in
from the high slit of one window and gleamed in her narrowed eyes. With a
single glower, she judged the plain brown gown Cassia wore.
The wizened craftswoman had taken her time getting here. Her message
was clear: she had more important tasks than mending for the king’s bastard
daughter. But she had come to this back corner of the palace, though it was
Winter Solstice, and she could by rights be spending the holiday off her
feet. Cassia had been right. The woman could not resist finding out what
was to be gained by granting the favor.
No one would question why Cassia called upon the most skilled
seamstress in the King of Tenebra’s household rather than attempt to mend
such damage herself. No one would doubt she mourned the loss of the
finest cloak she might ever have, which had cost her suitor Lord Adrogan a
number of prize shearlings.
She ran a hand over the smooth hide, knitting her brows. “Please tell me
you can save it, Mistress.”
The seamstress eyed the hole as if assessing its size and jagged edges.
Then she peered at Knight. Cassia’s hound lifted his head from his favorite
resting place, his lady’s feet, and sniffed. Whatever he scented, and
whatever his instincts beyond his nose told him, he parted his jaws in a dog
smile, showing the old woman a lolling tongue and a mouthful of teeth.
The seamstress’s mouth puckered as if she wished to spit upon the beast
for ruining such a fine garment. Or perhaps the reason for her disgust was
not Knight’s lack of respect for her craft, but the odor of his feet, which he
had given a thorough licking just before she entered. As unique as the scent
of horse, the musk of a liegehound inspired either love or hatred.
When the seamstress turned her gaze on Cassia again, the old woman’s
lips creased into what passed for a smile. She patted the pincushion she
wore upon her sleeve, which sported an arsenal of long bone needles.
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