Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses) by Sharon Shinn Page A

in love with forbidden men.”
     
     
    Astira leaned closer. “There are the men of the Lestra’s guard,” she whispered. “You might fall in love with one of them.”
     
     
    Ellynor laughed. “And they’re forbidden, too, but by the Lestra herself! No, thank you, I’m not looking to fall in love with anyone just now. I just want to be a good Daughter, serve the goddess, watch over my cousin, and make my family proud.”
     
     
    Astira yawned again. “I just want to sleep for an hour or two before it is my turn to watch the old woman,” she said.
     
     
    “Then close your eyes. I’m sure we’re both so tired that we’ll fall asleep right away.”
     
     
    Indeed, Astira slept almost immediately, but Ellynor was wide awake. The moon had been an even thinner crescent tonight, only a few days away from dark, and the Black Mother had almost complete dominion over the night sky. Ellynor’s very favorite time. She crept from the bed and went to lean out the window, resting her arms on the sill next to the candle. A deep inhalation brought her the mixed scents of ripe gourds in the gardens and turning leaves on the nearest trees. Almost autumn. Soon to be winter. The best time of year.
     
     
    She was still awake when a servant knocked and quietly entered. “One of you is wanted in the sickroom,” the girl informed Ellynor.
     
     
    She glanced at the bed, but Astira’s eyes were closed and her breathing was soft and regular. “I’ll go,” Ellynor said, catching up her hair in one quick twist. “Give me a moment to put on my robe.”
     
     
     
     

A FEW minutes later, Ellynor was ushered into the sickroom. The Lestra stood there still, a dark shape bowed over the broad bed. She looked up when Ellynor entered.
     
     
    “She is breathing still, but her lungs draw poorly,” the Lestra said in her deep, musical voice. “I don’t think it will be much longer now. Are you afraid to be alone if death comes into the room?”
     
     
    “No,” Ellynor said. “I’ve been present for such visits before. But who should I call if it happens?”
     
     
    “Jenetta told me there will be a servant just down the hall. Make use of her. And send her to fetch your sister novice after you have watched a few hours.”
     
     
    “I will. Thank you, my lady.” Ellynor inclined her head as the Lestra passed her and left the room. She waited till the door clicked shut behind her.
     
     
    Alone with the dying woman.
     
     
    Ellynor pulled a chair up next to the bed but did not immediately sit, just leaned over and examined the patient’s face. So thin, so pale, with breath so slow and labored that indeed it seemed each one might be her last. Again, Ellynor wondered: Was it age or illness that had brought her down?
     
     
    She placed her hands carefully, lightly, along the woman’s sunken cheekbones, stroked her palms down the flat covers across the woman’s slight bosom. Fever in the noblewoman’s skin, a rattling congestion in her chest. The stomach and bowels were functioning, as far as Ellynor could tell.
     
     
    She passed her hands over the upper torso again. Yes, this was the trouble, clustered around the heart and the lungs. Infection and pressure, and not enough strength to resist. “I wish I had been here a day or two sooner,” Ellynor murmured.
     
     
    Dropping to the chair and making herself comfortable, she pulled back the blankets and spread her fingers over the woman’s thin nightshirt. She could feel the slight fall and rise of the patient’s ribs, catch the faint gurgle as her breath came haltingly in. The fabric of the nightgown felt warm to the touch, as if it had been set close to a fire. Fever, Ellynor knew, seeping upward from the flesh.
     
     
    “Great Mother, lay your hands over mine,” she whispered, as she had whispered at so many sickbeds of the sebahta . “Pour your strength into me. Heal this woman through the medium of my body.”
     
     
    She closed her eyes and opened her