Maggie of the Mist by Madeleine M. (best ebook reader for ubuntu txt) 📕

Instead, Keith leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat. He clenched his fists to hide how much his hands were shaking.

“Decided to turn around after all, I see,” snapped Daggers. Her blades were back on her hips and her arms were crossed. Next to her the ‘lad’ that had been nice to him on the path was staring at him with a severe look of mistrust. He decided that now was surely not the best time to tell them of his rank – the oldest nephew of the King – and the fact that at the next town or settlement they came to he could have them arrested. He took a shaky breath, definitely not the best time to say something like that. Keith wanted to get out of this mist-filled forest and away from these shadows, alive.

“Hush now, Vika. Will you please go check on the horses?” said the Hood, with a bit more confidence. “Angus, will you go and fetch his packs? Their out in the field. We leave before the sun gets too high.”

“Are you sure we can trust him?” Vika asked quietly as she stabbed an accusing finger at him. Hood lightly placed a hand on her collar bone, but snatched it away quickly.

“I think you should ask her later, Vika.” Angus offered as he wandered in what Keith guessed was the direction of the field. Vika glared knives at his disappearing back.

“You need to make sure Gregor’s still there,” Hood said gently and patted Vika’s shoulder. “Please. He won’t get far, I promise.” The girl grumbled and stalked off angrily into the fog. With mouth agape, Keith watched Vika fade into to a distorted shadow and then she was completely gone.

He returned his attention to the girl who liked to hide under a hood. She had picked up his blade. It moved fluently as she swung it around with practiced hands. Huh, he thought, a girl that knows her way around a sword. She began to examine it, taking in the sharpness of the blade. “It is beautiful, is it not?” Keith asked carefully. He didn’t want her to keep it. The fabric shifted like the head underneath it had nodded.

Then she froze and his fine sword dropped to the ground a few paces away from where she stood. “Blessed Maiden!” she swore, and Keith was hard pressed not to smile. She whipped around to face him and gasped, her hands disappearing under the hood as she covered her mouth. “Oh, I—I’m terribly sorry.” She physically shook herself, and bent down to retrieve the dropped blade and the similar dagger.

Keith tried to keep the confusion off his face. This person hiding under the hood had to be hiding more than just her face. He watched her as she gripped the hilt so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Then, she realized that he was watching her and quietly handed them both over. Keith put them back in their sheaths at his side. “Um, thanks.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Sorry about all that. They can sometimes be a little over protective.” said the hooded girl inspecting an arrow. Now that they were gone she was timid again. Almost like she was afraid of him.

“No harm done,” he said as he openly stared at her. She must have seen it or felt it or something because a full blush came to the only skin he could see – the base of her neck.

“I didn’t hit you, did I?” She circled him, looking for any sign that one of her arrows had pierced his skin. Her fingers lightly brushed his arms and his shoulders. He felt himself repress a shiver.

“Just a few holes in my shirt is all.” Keith watched to see her reaction.

Her blush deepened as she said, “Oh, I can mend that for you. I guess I’ve gotten better with my aim.”

“You didn’t hit me on purpose?”

“Of course not!” She sounded shocked that he would even suggest it. “Having you come with us without a horse will slow us enough. We don’t need you wounded.”

“Wait,” Keith was slowly remembering why he wanted to run. Becoming a prisoner was the last thing he needed. He could only imagine the king having a fit once he found out that Daileas had made it to Koal without the man going to be announced heir to the Curtian thrown. Then he remembered why he hadn’t run. He was helplessly lost. He tried to forget about the part where Vika or Angus would kill him if he tried to escape. “I’m coming with you? I need to meet up with my brother. You can’t kidnap me!”

The cloaked figure sighed impatiently. “Yes, I can,” Keith tried to protest but she cut him off by holding up her hand. “You will officially be our prisoner once we bind your hands. I don’t know if you can be trusted yet. And besides,” she shrugged, “Now all you have is literally the clothes on your back. You clearly have no idea where you’re going and without a horse, you won’t get much farther without getting robbed. You won’t stay alive to meet your brother, and you probably won’t make it to the next village, so you’re coming with us. Next time you see a stranger, it might not be best to follow. Come on back to the camp with me, and I’ll fix your shirt.”

Before he had a chance to say ‘no’, she was off again, disappearing into the mist. “How fast can one girl be?” He asked himself quietly, as he followed her hurried steps back to the campsite. He kept his left hand on the hilt of his sword while they waded through the thick white stuff.

Keith sent up a silent prayer to the Warrior, asking for aid in surviving with these three fighters. He gained hope as the sun began to burn away the mist, like an answer from the god.

Maggie’s heart was pounding. A Tine’la! She thought as they made their way through the quickly evaporating mist. Unless he stole that sword, this man walking behind her was Seaver’s ‘Young Master’. When she had picked up his sword, she immediately knew it was the one she made and once she saw the linked rings, she knew without doubt.

Maybe she should have wounded him.

“Where are you taking me?” the Tine’la demanded as he stumbled over yet another root.

“As I have already told you, we are going back to our camp to fix your shirt. Unless you would prefer it full of holes.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he sighed, annoyed. When Maggie didn’t respond he explained further. “How far are you taking me?”

“No farther than where you are to meet your brother.” Maggie replied shortly. Neither spoke until they reached the camp.

Maggie saw that the horses were packed and saddled. Vika was leaning against a tree, looking very threatening. Angus was over with the horses, tightening the packs. Neither looked up when Maggie walked in to view. It didn’t really bother her that much; she knew that they had no use for this stranger with red hair. She found she didn’t either.

“See we have a new friend,” remarked Vika. He was clearly not used to dry humour; she could see it in his face.

“He’s not a friend,” replied Maggie. She was bending down to get a needle and thread out her pack, “I’m just mending his shirt. And I can’t very well do that without my needle n’ thread, now can I?” She flashed a teasing smile over at her cousin from under her hood, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Then motioned for the Tine’la to follow her to the creek.

The only sounds were the babbling water, the birds chirping in the late spring air and Maggie’s pulse – she hoped she was the only one who could hear that. Taking her bow off her back and quiver from her hip, Maggie leaned them against a tree. She took off her cloak and hung it on a short branch. Her long blond hair had been in a braid the night before and now had many waves throughout it, as it fell over her shoulders and spilled down her back. She felt his stare on her back. “Laila was right!” the Tine’la gasped behind her. As she turned around, she caught him quickly averting his eyes. She tried to repress a smirk.

“Who’s Laila?” Maggie was generally curious to hear what his answer would be.

“Huh? Oh, she was a girl I met on my travels. She told me—” He stopped himself.

“What did she tell you?”

“Nothing.”

Maggie knew she was being a bit mean. She tried to bite her tongue, and focus on the task at hand.

“Unless you like that shirt enough for it to be sewed to your skin, I’d suggest taking it off.” she said as she sat down on a large root and threading her needle. This wasn’t as hard as she thought it was going to be. It was only talking. Just like talking to Uncle Will or Seaver… almost. Except it was he was a Tine’la.

Laila’s stranger gave a deep, gentle chuckle as placed the sword next to her arrows. Her heart fluttered in her stomach. He started to pull his shirt over his head, and then laughed when it got stuck. Maggie sighed, standing to help him. As she placed a hand on his chest, trying to steady him while using the other trying to untangle his arms, he froze. She tried to ignore hard muscles under her hand. He let her guide his arms out of his shirt, and allowed her to help him take it off his head. Her cold hands burned from the heat of his body.

Their eyes met. He was staring down at her with gleaming emeralds. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and her cheeks began to burn. Maggie was suddenly aware of how close they were. She quickly averted her eyes and moved away. She sat down on the root again and went to mending his shirt. He came and sat next to her, watching her work with curious eyes. Occasionally, he stole a glance at her face. He thought that he was being sneaky, but Maggie could feel his gaze on her. She tried to steady her breathing, as the stone pulsed calmingly.

“What’s your name?” Maggie asked in a quiet voice.

The red head gave her a look that suggested he wasn’t sure whether to trust her or not. She had the same feeling. Eventually, he just shrugged. “People call me Keith. What about you? What is your name?” He watched her openly as she thought how