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.Often it was all she could to hold herself together as she was driving or in public.In spite of her best efforts the attacks would come, sometimes due to slips in her diet, others to stress.Around her periods or with colds had always been the worst, and she dreaded those times.Sometimes her spirits and health had sunk so low as to trigger suicidal thoughts.Even knowing the depression was a hazard of her condition didn’t halt it.Now Mathin had witnessed her falling apart.Her lips tightened with self-directed anger and shame.If he scorned her, she’d cry inside.If he treated her as if she were made of spun glass, it would be even worse.She wanted him to pretend it never happened.More than one doctor had accused her of making it up to get attention or recommended a psychiatrist, and as a result she was paranoid of making a scene.No one in her right mind wanted to be stared at like a circus freak.Brush crackled as Matilda rounded the tree, dried food in hand.She extended it to Andrea.“Here.I brought you something to eat.”Nauseous at the very thought, Andrea turned her face away.She knew she needed it, but she rarely felt like eating when she had to.Still, it was either eat it or sink into a dangerous state on the edge of consciousness.She sighed and forced herself to take it.An old hand at riding out hypoglycemic attacks, Matilda remained quiet and let her eat.Only after some of the dullness left Andrea’s eyes and she sat straighter did she offer her hand.“Come on.We’ll close the curtains to the wagon so you can get some sleep.No one will bother you.”Grateful for someone else capable of making decisions for her clouded mind, Andrea took the hand and heaved herself up.All she wanted to do was hide in a hole until she got better.A root tripped her up, and Matilda immediately placed a supporting hand under her elbow.Grateful for the help, Andrea looked up—and saw Mathin coming toward her, concern on his face.She stumbled in her haste to avoid him.“No.”Confused, he stopped.“I just want—”“No! I’m fine.I don’t need help.” Before he could stop her, she stumbled to the wagon and clambered up the ladder.Concerned, Mathin tried to follow.Matilda grabbed his arm.“Don’t.You’ll just make it worse.Give her body time to stop torturing her and then she’ll talk.Right now it’s all she can do to hold together.” They both watched as the curtains on the wagon were jerked shut.“I’ll ride with her and keep an eye on her.I promise she’ll be fine.”Maybe, but as the day wore on his mood grew darker.It wasn’t in his nature to worry.This thing with Andrea was different, and he was determined to learn all there was to know about her condition.Next time he would know exactly what to do.She was his responsibility.Late that afternoon Andrea woke from a light doze, shaken from her slumber by the absence of motion.Curious, and feeling much better, she opened the curtains to look out.She drew in a sharp breath, surprised by the sight of the valley below.Like the prongs of a ring, ready for the diamond, the stone walls of a city rose.Round, it was set on an unnatural plateau in the land, perhaps the flattened remnants of a hill.The rest of the broad valley ran flat and nearly treeless to the distant tops of towering trees.Before the city was a village.Gardens and orderly groups of trees, possibly orchards, surrounded sturdy stone houses.Ant-like people roaming or riding about on wagons stacked high with hay or crates magnified the impression.Must be harvest time.Thunder rumbled in the roiling clouds overhead, signaling danger.“Are you all right?”She looked at Mathin, who’d pulled Bloodlight to a stop beside the wagon.“Yes,” she answered sheepishly, feeling foolish for her earlier.display.“I’m sorry for—”Taking pity on her, he reached out and caressed her cheek, raising her face.“I spoke with Matilda about it, and she told me what I can do next time.” His thumb traced a line from her cheekbone to her lips.“I dislike being helpless,” he admitted softly.Eyes lowered, Andrea gave her head a slight shake.“I’m sorry you got stuck with such a raw deal.”“Don’t ever say that again!”She flinched at the emotion in his voice.Intense dark eyes bored into hers.“I chose you, wife.I love you.Don’t ever imply it wasn’t anything but the best thing to happen to me.Do you understand?”Unsure what to say, she nodded.Besides, she couldn’t have spoken past the sudden lump in her throat.Mathin nodded at the walled city.“Our citadel.The people hurry to finish the harvest before the storms arrive in earnest.Once the hurricanes hit, the fields will be ruined and it will be dangerous to stray far from shelter.Don’t expect to draw a lot of attention as we ride in.Sometimes every minute counts.”“Good.” The last thing she wanted was a bunch of strangers staring at her.He looked quizzical for a moment, and then grinned.“I forget you’re not the typical lady.Many I know would be greatly offended at being virtually ignored.”She shrugged.“If I’d wanted the media’s attention I would have moved to Hollywood.Let’s go.I’d like to sit on something that doesn’t move.”Mathin hadn’t been kidding.They drew very little notice from the harvesters as they rode in, save for one man.“My lord.” An older man, well past middle age but not yet frail, approached their party as they rode toward the citadel gates.His frosted hair hung to his shoulders, the strands gleaming in the pre-storm light.A neatly trimmed beard clung to his strong jaw.“I’m glad to see you came so quickly.” As if undecided, he looked over his brown clad shoulder, frowned.“I think this is important enough I can spare a few minutes to speak with you.”Mathin dismounted.“Speak while you work.My wife and I will join you, though she won’t be able to help.She’s been ill.” He signaled for Raziel to take their party into the citadel, leaving two men behind, ostensibly to help, but also to provide extra protection for Andrea.“I’ll help, too,” Matilda put in, jumping from the wagon.“I’ve always loved harvest time.”The interested look she cast at the overseer put a frown on Raziel’s face, but he led the men into the citadel anyway.Mathin knew he’d be back the moment they were settled.He put his arm on Andrea’s shoulders.“Andrea, this is our overseer, Tomlin.Tomlin, my lady wife, Andrea.”Something shifted in the depths of Tomlin’s eyes, a reaction too quickly squelched for Andrea to peg.Wary of it, but willing to be polite, she extended her hand to shake.Tomlin took it and placed a perfunctory kiss on the back, dropping it swiftly after.“And this is Andrea’s elder, Matilda,” Mathin continued, unsurprised by Tomlin’s disinterest.Andrea’s pheromone had been tamed, and it would take time to convince the people here that he held her in higher esteem than his father had held his mother.Offended by Tomlin’s treatment of Andrea, Matilda merely nodded at him.Unfazed, Tomlin led the way to a hedge of orange, shiny fruit and began loading them into the half-full basket.Matilda claimed another basket and Andrea moved to help her.Mathin took her arm and frowned.“I’m fine,” she assured him.“The nap did me good, and I’d like to help.”Reluctantly, he released her.“As you wish, but if you feel the slightest bit ill…”“I’ll tell you,” she promised, and got to work.“Your father’s brothers and your cousins have argued for some time over who should succeed you should you die without issue [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]