WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations by Kathryn Veque (reading an ebook txt) 📕

wife, pulling her off the floor. As he stood with her next to the hearth, the father and son ducked out of the cottage to where their men were waiting outside in the mud, unaware that the brand on the hip of one of the horses had been recognized, as it had been before.

“What good is it going to do to simply find out the wellness of de Leia’s daughter and the child?” Nicholas asked his father once they were outside. “We want the child.”

John nodded. “I know,” he said. “But you must have patience, lad. We discover what we can about the child and Lady Gavriella, and then if the old physic is trustworthy enough, with enough coin we can probably pay him to smuggle the child out of Falstone. But first things first – we have to determine how the child and its mother, fare. It is possible that neither have survived to this point.”

Nicholas was impatient. He swung himself onto the back of his steed. “Why are we even bothering with this?” he hissed. “Why not simply go to Falstone and take what we want?”

John nodded slowly, fussing with his stirrup. “Because Falstone has big walls, a good army, and the backing of de Wolfe,” he said. “Need I remind you of that? Nay, lad, we must be careful about this. Let us take the child by stealth, not with a big show of force. That would gain us nothing. Let the physic do his work.”

“And when he does?”

“When he does, we shall reward him,” John said. “A very special reward.”

Nicholas knew what his father was alluding to – death and destruction. That was always what he meant. He looked over the village of Deadwater, a surprisingly prosperous village with a gloomy name.

“When we have fulfilled the prophesy and begin our advance against de Wolfe, this village will make a nice spoil of war,” he said. “I have fond memories here already.”

He flashed his yellow teeth rather lewdly. John simply shook his head at is crass son, though he did not dispute him. They had the beginnings of what they’d come for – information on the infant delivered by de Leia’s daughter. There was nothing more they could do but return in a few days to ensure that the task had been completed.

All they could do now was wait.

As they mounted their fat horses and headed out of town, Harman the Wise stood in his open doorway, watching them go. He’d heard their conversation because they hadn’t shut the door when they’d quit the cottage.

He’d heard every word.

It was quite possible that Merek de Leia was going to hear every word, too.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Andreas saw her walk into the river.

In utter disbelief, he watched her walk right into that swirling, dark water. He was standing at the end of the avenue on the river’s edge, watching her red dress through the fog. There was some illumination on the river walk because of some public torches lighting up the narrow walk that had several taverns still open for business.

If not for those torches, he wouldn’t have been able to see her at all.

He’d heard her walking and weeping. That was how he’d been able to follow her so easily. Her tears weren’t just of a woman who couldn’t find her way home, or of a woman who had spent the evening in a guild filled with debauchery. She’d wept painfully, tears of something much deeper than what had happened that evening. He’d thought her suspicion of him was driven by something else, something deeper, and now he was suspecting it was perhaps deeper than he’d thought.

This wasn’t a woman who was frightened or angry.

This was a woman who was filled with despondency.

Whatever she was feeling was something beyond the obvious and he was drawn to her. It was true that she was beautiful and it was also true that he was a man of compassion and understanding. He still wasn’t sure what drew him to her because he’d known his share of women. He’d been pursued by some truly beautiful and accomplished ones.

So what made this woman different?

He wasn’t sure, but something did.

And now she was trying to kill herself.

He was just setting foot on the rocky shore of the river when he saw her abruptly go under water. He was in mail, with his broadsword around his waist, and he knew jumping into the river with all of that weight would sink him right to the bottom, so he began yanking off his sword and anything else that might weigh him down, including his mail. By the time he ripped the coat over his head, several long seconds had passed and he raced to the river’s side and dove in.

It was like ice.

Murky, dirty water greeted him. He was a good swimmer and went right to the spot where he’d seen her head go under and dove down, grabbing around, trying to catch hold of her somehow. He was trying not to panic, but he swam in circles, flailing about, trying to find some scrap of her. She couldn’t have gone too far, but maybe she’d gone just far enough that he wouldn’t be able to find her in time.

The seconds ticked away.

His lungs were screaming for air.

And then, he touched something.

It was hair.

Andreas grabbed a handful and pulled, surfacing on the water and pulling the woman up with him. She was unconscious and he swam desperately until he could find his footing. Hauling her into his arms, he carried her to the bank and lay her onto the rocky shore.

She wasn’t breathing so he turned her on her side, slapping her on the back, trying to evacuate the water from her lungs. He ended up rolling her onto her stomach, pressing her back firmly, trying to get her to breath. After several pumping tries, she suddenly vomited up brackish river water, coughing violently as water sprayed from her lungs.

Andreas thumped on her back, helping