Read The Skeleton King (The Silk & Steel Saga) for Free Online

the black gelding pulled around a curve. The gelding was quick
but the sorrel stallion was powerful, she settled into the race, certain the
stallion would close the distance. The trail snaked down through the forest, a
series of twists and turns, a clatter of hooves on stone. She lost sight of Duncan but held to the
trail. Her warhorse thundered around a curve, charging into a long straight
away…but the trail was empty, no sign of the leather-clad archer. Kath hauled
on the reins, bringing the stallion to a stop. The warhorse stamped and snorted
but stood his ground. Unsheathing her sword, she studied the forest, searching
for a threat. She nudged the stallion forward, holding him to a walk. “Duncan?” Her voice echoed
against the mountains.
    “Down here.”
    Relief washed through her.
    “Take the side trail.”
    She followed his voice to a narrow
side-spur, branches of cedar and pine obscuring the turnoff. Deliberately
breaking a branch, she left a marker for the others before descending the
tree-cloaked trail.
    Her stallion’s hooves skittered on
loose stones, a steep descent into the depths of the forest. Branches beat
against her, releasing a breath of pine. A hushed stillness cloaked the forest,
fallen needles muffling the drum of hooves. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, her
hand still gripping her sword. Trees crowded close, curtains of moss hanging
from low branches. But something else hung from the lower limbs. She got a
better look and gasped with understanding. Shields hung from the lower
branches, old and weathered, cracked and dented. Most were so blackened by time
that the heraldry was hidden…yet she knew with certainty what device they all
bore. She’d heard legends of such places. Between the trees, impaled in the
ground, she saw the swords, their hilts rusted dark red, marking the graves of
fallen heroes. A forest of shields, so many men lost to the north, their lives
traded for the peace of the southern kingdoms, their bodies laid to rest in
hallowed ground. She rode beneath the octagon shields, thinking of Sir Tyrone
and his valiant stand at Cragnoth Keep. “For Honor and the Octagon.” The words
whispered out of her, a token of reverence for the honored dead. She sheathed
her sword, feeling safe among the fallen heroes. Awed by the number of shields,
she sent a prayer to the Lords of Light, giving thanks for the maroon knights.
    Ducking beneath a curtain of moss,
she emerged into the last light of day. The forest gloom gave way to a small
glade and the cheerful sound of a brook. Kath shivered, feeling as if she’d
ridden from the stillness of the grave back into life.
    Duncan waited for her by the stream. Tall
with broad shoulders and a tapered waist, muscles beneath black leather, he
leaned on his longbow, watching the gelding drink. He looked up as she approached,
a greeting in his mismatched eyes, a warm smile on his sun-tanned face. “I
found our campsite.”
    Kath slipped from the saddle. “What
will we do when this is done?”
    “You mean after we beat the odds
and kill the Mordant?” His tone was playful but he held her gaze.
    Nodding, she secured her horse.
    His hand caressed the polished wood
of his longbow. “I suppose we’ll live happily ever after.”
    Kath watched his hands, envious of
the yew wood. For a rare moment, the two of them stood alone. Like iron pulled
to a loadstone, she moved towards him. He reached for her, pulling her close.
Her arms wrapped around him. Nestled against his chest, enfolded by his musky scent
of leather on skin, she shivered with need. He tilted her chin and kissed her.
Tender at first, but then his kiss deepened. His lips burned into hers, a whole
world of wanting. Closing her eyes, she shuddered against him, yearning for more.
Beneath his leathers, his manhood reared against her. Instead of pulling away,
she pressed close, a desperate mix of fear and wanting. He broke the kiss, his
voice ragged. “We’d best not…”
    She looked up at him,