Crystal Moon by Elysa Hendricks Page A

sneer turned to snarl. “I need no lessons from the
    spawn of DiSan....”
    “Kyne,” Graham warned quietly, his gaze shooting to the
    people only a table away. “Sianna, if you and Kyne cannot
    control your tongues, I will be forced to abandon my food. Call
    a truce, at least through last meal.” His tone lightened. “I am
    hungry.”
    “It’s well known in the castle, you are always hungry,”
    Sianna teased, taking his lead to ease the rising tension. A big
    man, Graham had a hearty, non-discriminating appetite. Little
    prompted him to forego eating.
    At Graham’s heartfelt plea, a grin softened the stiff line of
    Kyne’s mouth. He looked at Sianna, then stretched out his left
    hand palm up, fingers slightly spread, the traditional male to
    female gesture of acceptance. “Truce?”
    With what lay between them was a truce possible? How
    long could it last?
    “Truce,” she repeated and placed her hand over his. Lying
    in his strong, calloused palm, her fingers looked pale and fragile,
    like her life. Briefly, his fingers closed over hers, sending a
    shaft of warmth through her, then opened again. She snatched
    her hand away and buried it in her lap. By giving her right hand
    into his left, she accepted his dominance, and he offered her his
    protection. The irony was not lost on either of them. Only
     
    Graham seemed oblivious to the farce as he dug into his meal.
    With Kyne’s gaze resting on her, at first the food tasted like
    ashes in Sianna’s mouth, but to rebuild her strength she forced
    herself to eat. As her taste buds woke up, his hostility was
    forgotten and her anger and confusion evaporated under the
    spicy aroma of Betha’s stew and the fragrant smell of fresh
    baked bread. She barely restrained herself from gulping the
    delicious food. While plentiful, food at the valetudinarian was
    plain and bland to accommodate the sensitive palates of the
    elderly sisters and their patients. Those with a taste for more
    variety usually did without.
    “Would you have some more, milady?”
    She looked up to find Betha standing at her elbow with a
    serving bowl in her hands.
    “Yes, please.” Sianna held up her empty plate. The good
    Sisters had often teased her about her overly healthy appetite.
    They would exclaim and wonder where such a small person
    put such large helpings of food.
    Betha gave her a smug smile, and three pairs of eyes
    focused on Sianna’s flat belly. At this reminder of her situation,
    her stomach heaved and appetite fled.
    They believed she ate for two. What would happen when
    time revealed her lie?
    “Sianna! Father!” Zoa’s excited squeal drew Kyne’s
    attention from Sianna’s suddenly pale face. He turned to see
    the child race across the hall and skid to a stop next to Sianna.
    “See my new dress?” She twirled around, sending the her full
    skirt flying. “Grenna made it for me. Isn’t it pretty?”
    Without taking a breath, Zoa launched, into a long detailed
    description of the dressmaking process. While Sianna listened
    attentively to the child’s chatter, Kyne frowned. A moment
    passed before he realized what puzzled him about Zoa.
    Small and thin for her age, Zoa rarely finished a sentence
    without coughing, yet throughout her recitation she hadn’t
    missed a breath. Her dark eyes sparkled, and her once too-
    pale, taut skin glowed with a soft, rosy color. She looked, if not
    healthy, at least not ill. Kyne hesitated to hope Althea’s diagnosis
    was wrong.
     
    “It’s a lovely dress,” Sianna said. “Grenna is a talented
    seamstress, and you’re a fortunate young lady.”
    The fatigue in Sianna’s voice bothered Kyne. Why? He
    should be pleased to see her brought low. To see the defiance
    drained from her, as the life had drained from Aubin.
    All day he had watched as she, without being asked or
    commanded, went about the castle and brought order from
    chaos. In a few hours she had not only cleared away the dirt
    and grime of years of neglect, but the whole