Read Michelle West - Sun Sword 01 - The Broken Crown for Free Online

they were bleeding. Her
own nails had pierced skin in the moment it had taken her to draw
breath and think. She was, by her own reckoning, fifty Imperial years
of age; her hair was a white-streaked darkness, her skin, weathered as
even the rocks were weathered by the passage of time and the scouring
of sand, be it carried by wind or water.
    The path of the otherwhen took her where no one desired to go,
not even she; of late, it led her from death to death, and she was
tired. For more than thirty years, she had walked it at the whim of
immortal father and Time, and if it had been a hated path in her youth,
it was now just a path, a part of her life.
    But her life itself was dedicated to war, and in the service
of that war, she was a lone soldier; she paused a moment to fight here
and there at the sides of those who were allies, but she did not
linger, no matter how much she might desire it. And perhaps, just
perhaps, she had come to see the wisdom of that forced choice.
    There had been little rest in the past few months, and she was
certain, although no battle's sound reached her ears, that there would
be no rest here, for either herself or the girl. But the girl was not
dead yet.
    At least there was hope.
    As if she could hear the intake of breath, the girl who lay
curled upon the stone bed lifted her hands in a gesture that was half
plea and half defense; her lips were thick and swollen, the side of her
face, purpled by the blow— by several blows—of a large hand.
    And yet, even this disfigured, Evayne a'Nolan recognized
Askeyia a'Narin. Levee's student; a child, an almost-woman with a soft
heart and a naive desire to see great deeds done. Of Levee's many
students, Askeyia was one who hovered, hoping against hope to catch
some snippet of dread destiny, as if it were a disease. Not even in her
coldest moments would Evayne have pointed out that this, this meeting,
was one such thing.
    She had never seen a healer this injured who still lived; it
was against their nature, and their instincts.
    "D-don't—" the girl said piteously, "don't." But it was weak
and fragile; the sound a mouse might make when it had been in play too
long between the paws of a cat.
    She, who had seen much, looked away.
    She did not recognize this room; it was barren of any detail
that might have given it light, or a sense of comfort or warmth. No;
light came from the window, and the window was a thing of stone. She
turned, as if the need for light was greater than any other impulse,
and stared out; stared down.
    When she turned back to the injured girl, she was as gray as
the stone itself. Evayne's robes were blue, always blue; she spoke a
word, frowned, and spoke another, a stronger one. In the haze of the
light by the window—for she stood by the window itself—the midnight
richness seeped skyward from the magical weave, leaving her in white,
all white.
    Because she knew where she was. And she knew that the white
would be a comfort, even if it was a lie.
    "Askeyia," she said softly, speaking for the first time since
she'd entered this tower. She did not seek the crystal ball by which
she was known as
seer;
she did not need it. She
knew the
when
and she knew the
where;
the glance outside the single tower window told her both.
    The girl looked up at the sound of the voice; she was not so
broken that suspicion was her first reaction. "E-Evayne?"
    The older woman swallowed and then smiled falsely. "Yes."
    "What are you—what are you doing here?" Hope. "Have you come
to—have you—did Levec send you?"
    Levec doesn't know where you are
. But she
did not say it. Instead, she crossed the room, leaving shadows that
were only the castoffs of light. She caught the girl in her arms and
held her, and after a moment of stiffness that told Evayne more than
she would ever ask, the girl relaxed and began to sob, very like a
child, into her robes.
    Those robes caught the tears and kept them, a bitter memento.
Evayne spoke a word; saw the green glow of her