Read Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - Wyndmaster 1 for Free Online

didn’t know where to begin
    when I started. Sometimes, you just have to let the body tell you.”
    The servants came in quietly to place the food upon the elegantly appointed table.
    “Is he very ill?” Celeste inquired as her soup was ladled into the bowl before her.
    “Not so much ill as stubborn,” her father answered. “He refuses to accept his situation and that always
    makes my job so much more difficult.” He glanced at her as he sprinkled salt into his own bowl.
    “Though rewarding when all is said and done, and I’ve sent the patient on his way.”
    “What of his family?” she asked, her eyes lighting up as she sipped a spoonful of the rich broccoli and
    cheese soup, her favorite.
    Her father sighed. “He’s an orphan, I was told. No family left to worry over him.” He shook his head.
    “Such a sad situation. I fear I might well be the last to see him…”
    He was interrupted by the sound of many voices raised in anger and then came heavy pounding that
    shook the rafters overhead, causing the crystal chandelier to vibrate, its dangling prisms clinking together.
    “What the…?” the Dungeon Master began but then something heavy hit what might have been one of
    the gatehouses, and the sound of splintering wood and falling stones made the dining table shudder. The
    screech of the portcullis being lifted was easily identifiable.
    “What’s happening, Papa?” Celeste asked with her eyes wide. “Are we under attack?”
    “We’d better not be!” her father snarled. “I pay the military a goodly sum to protect my estates!”
    Lord Charles pushed his chair back—the dainty piece of furniture crashing to the floor—and then stood,
    tossing his napkin to the table as he strode angrily out into the hallway beyond the dining room.
    “Fredericks!” he bellowed. “What is that racket?”
    Celeste got shakily to her feet, her entire body trembling as she heard screams and shouts. A loud thump
    sounded and then the thunder of horses’ hooves pounding over the drawbridge. She backed away from
    the table—her hands over her ears—as the shouts intensified and the screaming began.
    Her father came running into the room, his eyes wide. “Come, Celeste!” he shouted with a hand
    outstretched toward her. “We must flee!”
    “Papa, what’s going on?” Celeste asked as she took her father’s hand and he drew her toward a
    tapestry hanging on the south wall.
    “Barbarians, thieves!” her father snarled from between clenched teeth. He reached up with his free hand
    to snatch the tapestry from its hanging rod to reveal a door in the wall Celeste had not known existed.
    Just as he put his hand on the heavy round iron pull, a crossbow bolt shot past his shoulder to bury itself
    in the wooden portal.
    “Stay where you are!” a booming voice shouted.
    Lord Charles fumbled with the door handle, scrambling to open the secret passageway and get his
    daughter inside. But just as he pulled the massive door toward him, a dagger sang through the air,
    narrowly missing Celeste.
    “The next one goes in her back!”
    Spinning around like a cornered animal, the Dungeon Master hissed, jerking his daughter behind him.
    “Leave her be! She is an innocent child!”
    Celeste peered around her father’s shoulder to see the room becoming overrun with warriors, all fully
    armed with swords and daggers. They were a lethal-looking sight with angry faces that made her heart
    quiver in her breast.
    “Where is he?” one man demanded, stepping forward with his sword held out in front of him.
    “I have no idea to whom you are?”
    Celeste gasped as the man with the sword lunged forward and the tip of the weapon was pressed to her
    father’s throat. She felt his hand jerk in hers.
    “Thurston is dead,” the leader snapped. “He told us you have our commander here.” He increased the
    pressure on the sword point until a fine stream of blood oozed down Lord Charles’ neck. “Where is
    he?”
    Trembling violently,