Read Roberson, Jennifer - Cheysuli 07 for Free Online Page A

fingertips against soft leather. Tell him. Tell him? Just like that ?
                 Niall's
tone was kind. "Locking things away only adds to the problem. Believe me,
I know; I spent far too many years denying myself peace because I believed
myself unworthy of this creature looming behind me."
                 Aidan
glanced only briefly at the Lion. Then sat down on the dais next to Niall,
putting his back to the beast. He felt a vast impatience—how could he share what
no one would believe?—but attempted to honor his grandsire by fulfilling part
of the request. "This has nothing at all to do with unworthiness. I
promise, grandsire, I know who I am and the task I am meant for: to rule as
Mujhar of Homana." Easily, he made the palm-up Cheysuli gesture denoting tahlmorra , and his acceptance of it.
"I think I will do as well as the next man when my time comes—you and my jehan have taught me very well; how
could I not be worthy?" He
flicked fingers dismissively, thinking it enough.
                 Niall
waited in silence.
                 Discomfited,
Aidan stirred. "No one can understand. Why should I speak of it? When I was a child, I tried to tell them
about it. But neither of them believed me."
                 "Who
did not?"
                 " Jehan and jehana . They both said I was a child, and that what I dreamed was
not real. That I would outgrow it…"
Bitterness underscored the tone; Aidan pushed it away with effort. "Would
you speak of a thing people would ridicule you for?"
                 "Aileen
and Brennan would never ridicule you."
                 Aidan
grimaced. "Not them , perhaps…
not so obviously. But what is a child to feel when his parents call him a
liar?"
                 Niall's
brows knit. "I have never known you to be that. I doubt they have, either;
nor would ever say such a thing."
                 "There
is such a thing as implying —"
                 "They
would not even do that."
                 It
was definitive. Aidan shifted his buttocks and stared gloomily into the hall.
"I wish there were a way I could explain what I feel. What I fear ."
                 "Try,"
Niall suggested. "Tell me the truth, as you know it. Tell me what disturbs
your sleep."
                 Aidan
rubbed gritty eyes. What he needed most was sleep.
                 No.
What he needed most was the chain .
                 He
sighed and let it go. "What I fear is the meaning behind my dream. The
same one over and over." Now it was begun. Tension began to ease. With it
went strength. Slumping, he braced elbows on his knees and leaned his chin into
cupped hands. "For as long as I can recall, the same dream over and over. I think it will drive me mad."
                 Niall
said nothing. His patience was manifest.
                 Aidan
sighed heavily and sat upright, scraping hair back from his face. In the poor
light his thick auburn hair was an odd reddish black, falling across bare
shoulders too fair for a Cheysuli. A man, looking at him, would name him all
Homanan, or call him Erinnish-born. Until he saw the eyes.
                 "There
is a chain," Aidan began. "A chain made of gold. It is in the lap of
the Lion."
                 The
Mujhar did not give in to the urge to turn and look. Mutely, Niall waited.
                 Aidan,
abruptly restless, thrust himself upright and paced away from dais, Lion,
Mujhar. Away from his lir ,
uncharacteristically silent. He stared in disgust at the firepit, letting the
coals dazzle his eyes, then swung back to face his grandsire.
                 "I
know—I know how it sounds… but it is
what I feel, what I dream —"
                 "Aidan,"
Niall said quietly, "stop trying to look through my eyes."
                 Brought
up short, Aidan shut his mouth and waited. He had