Read The Gates of Winter for Free Online Page B

muck, and mounted his horse again. “I believe that peasant dropped this.” He held a small leather sack about the size of a money pouch.
    “That could be his life savings,” Lirith said. “He could be working to buy his freedom.”
    Sareth gave her a concerned look. “Do you really think so,
beshala
? If so, it would be a crime not to return it.”
    “I agree,” Durge rumbled. However, the peasant man had vanished.
    “You'll have to return it to him later,” Beltan said. “I really don't think we should keep my uncle waiting.”
    “Or Melia,” Falken said.
    They urged their horses into a trot. Grace's heart soared as she saw the faces of her friends. Aryn looked more beautiful than ever, and older as well. She stood beside Melia, who appeared as regal and ageless as ever, though she clapped her hands together in a display of youthful enthusiasm as the riders drew near. Sir Tarus wore a broad grin, and even King Boreas looked fiercely happy, a toothy smile showing through his black beard.
    The only one who wasn't smiling was the slender young man clad all in black. Grace had never seen him before, but all the same she recognized him. Teravian would never be powerfully built like his father, the king of Calavan, and his features were finer, but there was the same sharp, compelling look to his face. At the moment, though, that face was marred by a sullen look. Teravian let out a bored sigh and started to look away—then stopped. His eyes shone, locked on Lirith.
    They brought their horses to a halt. Grace didn't wait for Durge to help her, but instead slid from the saddle and raced forward.
    “Aryn!” She caught the baroness in a tight hug. The young woman returned the embrace with her left arm.
    “Grace, you're here—you're really here!”
    Talking long distance over the Weirding had been wonderful, but it couldn't compare to this—the real, living touch of someone she loved.
    Grace was aware of the others crowding around. Falken was whirling Melia in an embrace, and Melia was actually laughing. She heard Boreas's booming voice, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Sir Tarus hesitate, then grip Beltan's arms, his expression full of warmth.
    For so long they had all been apart, lost in different lands and on different worlds. Now, at last, they were all where they belonged—here, together. For that moment, Grace let herself believe they would never be apart again.
    At last, reluctantly, she pulled away from Aryn and turned to greet the king.
    “It's about time you paid your obeisance, my lady,” Boreas said with a snort, hands on his hips.
    “Greetings, Your Majesty.” Grace curtsied, and with only a slight wobble. When she rose, she was surprised to see the king's smile gone and a thoughtful look in his eyes. “What is it, Your Majesty?”
    “Nothing,” he said, his voice gruff, “save that I'm not certain it's you who should be paying obeisance. Your Majesty.” He started to move, as if he would kneel before her.
    Grace stared, horror flooding her. Boreas was so bold, so proud. He was a king, and she didn't believe there was a stronger man on this or any world. He should never bow before her, no matter what dead kingdom she was supposedly the queen of.
    She opened her mouth to stop him, but her words were lost in a peal of thunder.
    A shock wave hit her, and a ringing sounded in her ears, shrill as a siren, transporting her for a moment back to the Emergency Department at Denver Memorial Hospital. How many times had she heard that wail approaching as she stood in the ambulance entrance, waiting to put broken people back together? The lightning must have hit close.
    Except, last she noticed, the sky had been clear.
    Another deafening
boom
ripped through the air, and it wasn't thunder. She heard cries of dismay, and Beltan swore an oath as he pointed. However, by then Grace already saw it: A white cloud of dust and smoke billowed up from the base of the castle's southeastern tower. It shuddered