In the Time of Dragon Moon by Janet Lee Carey Page B

kick him off. He was too strong, too heavy.
Grab the table leg, overturn it on him.
My outstretched fingers were inches from it. I strained, desperate to reach it.
    The prince was breathing hard as he slid his cold hand up my leg and tugged at my small clothes. Thumping noises again. Babak’s head appeared just outside the window. On dragonback, Jackrun peered down at us and recoiled, seeing Desmond stretched on top of me with his hand over my mouth. He dove through the window, rolled to a stand, and loped toward us, agile as a mountain lion.
    â€œGet away from her!” He grabbed Desmond’s arms and pulled him off of me. I curled up on my side, clutched my stomach, and tried to catch my breath as they rolled on the floor, straining and grunting. There was a sickening smack as Desmond punched Jackrun in the mouth. They tumbled past me and rammed into the worktable, knocking it over. The stone mortar flew off and struck my neck. I gasped at the shock of pain as black seeds spilled around me. Mother’s water dish broke by my shoulder. The candle landed in the rushes, setting them alight.
    Desmond drew out his knife, slashed Jackrun’s upper arm. Jackrun screamed into his clamped teeth, forced Desmond on his side, roared fire behind his back.
    â€œJackrun,” I shouted. He was about to set Prince Desmond’s hair and clothes on fire. Jackrun looked up.
    Sir Geoffrey burst into the room. “What’s this?” He pulled the two apart, stomped out the burning rushes with his boot, and picked up the broken candle. “You very nearly set the whole room on fire.”
    Shaking, I came to my feet, one hand on the overturned table for support, one hand on my swelling neck where the mortar had struck it, a worse pain than the lump already forming on my head.
    â€œI was protecting Uma,” Jackrun said, clutching his bleeding arm.
    â€œProtecting her from what?” Desmond said. “We were doing fine until you interfered.” Jackrun’s body went rigid. He swayed on his feet as if he was about to spring on Prince Desmond and throw him to the floor again.
    Desmond swung around on Sir Geoffrey. “And who sent you?” he asked, cleaning the blood from his knife on one of my linen cloths in three swift motions. “Did I call for your help?”
    â€œYour Royal Highness—”
    â€œI can handle my own battles, you meddlesome bastard. Breathe a word of this, and I’ll tell what I know about you, and you’ll be hanged for your own filthy sins!”
    Sir Geoffrey’s cheeks flushed dark.
    I glanced at Jackrun.
Filthy sins?
What did Prince Desmond know about Sir Geoffrey—enough to make him blush? The prince sheathed the knife and left.
    Jackrun kicked aside the blackened rushes. I was glad for the candle in Sir Geoffrey’s hand. The rising smoke from Jackrun’s fire was rank, but it told no tales.
    Jackrun’s lip was bleeding, but the slashed arm worried me more. “Your arm is badly cut.” I went to him.
    He drew back. “It’s nothing. It’s not deep.”
    Sir Geoffrey’s eyes moved from me to Jackrun. “How did this start?”
    Jackrun licked the red droplets from his split lip. “Desmond was . . . he was on top of her. He nearly—” His hand was on his dagger as he searched for words.
    Sir Geoffrey’s face hardened. He had caught me with Prince Desmond before. What was he thinking now? I felt too sick, too raw to explain, but the man glared at me. “I didn’t ask him to my room,” I said finally under my breath. “I was preparing a cure for Prince Desmond’s headache when he came up on his own. Please don’t tell Lady Olivia.”
    Sir Geoffrey nodded sternly toward the door. “Best for you to leave now, Jackrun.”
    A shadow flicked across the room. Babak had circled the tower again to look inside.
    Jackrun said, “I’ll send a servant to help