Read Knight's Prize for Free Online Page B

toe, he
saluted and strode out the garden gate. Miriel was gratified to note that the
varlet's tabard bore an incriminating stain where he'd landed bottom first in
the mud.
    No
sooner had Rand gone than she started plotting. She had t o find out what
mischief he intended. Where were his th ings? She'd seen a pack of supplies on his horse.
Something   in that pack might give her a
clue as to his business. What had happened to it?
    'Twas
likely still with the horse.
    Scattering
the remaining pandemain for the birds, Miriel stole from the garden and made
her way toward the stables. Peeping inconspicuously around the corner of the
kennel toward the practice field, she glimpsed Rand crossing swords with Pagan.
Deirdre and Helena leaned against the fence, looking on. Out of curiosity, she
watched him for a moment.
    He
wasn't very good.
    Not
that it mattered. 'Twasn't as if he was going to be her husband. But she could
see that his clumsiness aggravated Pagan, and her sisters were murmuring
together in concern.
    She
supposed she shouldn't have judged them so harshly. They could sometimes be
unbearably smothering, but 'twas only because they cared for her. 'Twas her
own fault in a way for pretending to be so helpless all these years. Yet what
else could she do? 'Twas that very perceived vulnerability that enabled her
secretly to control the workings of Rivenloch, to gain access to rumors leaked
by careless servants, and to run surveillance on suspicious strangers like Sir
Rand without attracting attention.
    She
was in charge of the castle accounts, but not even her sisters appreciated just
what that entailed. She managed all the goods and services, doled out and
collected payments, monitored the supplies of grain and cloth, ale and arms,
meat and firewood. And she made certain the accounts were always balanced, not
an easy feat, particularly with her father's penchant for wagering. The fact
that she made it look easy fooled everyone into believing she was essentially
powerless.
    Which
was why, when she casually ambled by the stable lad and into the stables with
a timid smile, he only bobbed his head and let her pass, not even curious as to
her business.
    Once
she found Rand's mare, her nonchalance vanished. 'Twas a spirited creature, and
she had to calm the beast several times with soothing murmurs and gentle pats
to the neck before she could access the rest of the stall.
    His
things were in the far corner—the pack, a thick wool blanket, his saddle. She
dragged the heavy satchel through the straw into the sunlight, crouching to
take a look inside.
    Most
of the pack's contents were common enough, not incriminating in the least.
There were spare clothes, an iron cooking pot, a spoon, a firestone, a wooden
cup, a few knives, rope, things any traveler would carry on the road. Farther
down were strips of linen and a bundle of herbs, probably for medicinal
purposes. Rummaging deeper, she found a small purse full of silver and a pair
of worn leather gloves. Then her fingers alit upon a heavy metal chain.
    She
tugged it out of the satchel and held it up to the light. She frowned. There,
clanking before her eyes, was a rather sinister pair of iron shackles.
    The
chiding cluck of a tongue behind her startled her, making her shove the
shackles quickly back into the pack.
    “Find something
useful?" She glanced up to see Sir Rand looming over her, his arms crossed
over his chest, a
smirk on his
face.
    God 's blood! How had he managed to steal
up on her like that ?
    “I... I ..”
she floundered. "Why aren't you sparring with Pagan?"
    He
shrugged. "His patience wore thin." He arched a brow. "Why are
you rifling through my things?"
    "I
wasn't rifling." She gulped. 'Twas exactly what she was doing. "I
was..." Inspiration hit. "I was just wondering," she said
softly, dipping her eyes and running an idle fingertip around the opening of
the satchel, "if you might have... brought me something."
    The
doubtful squint of his eyes said he wasn't