Wind Over Bone: The Estralony Cycle #2 (Young Adult Fantasy Romance) by E. D. Ebeling Page B

whispered Savvel. “She means us harm.”
    Sarid stopped mid-breath. “Has she been saying things to you?”
    “Yes. No one else can hear.”
    She pushed him against the doorjamb. “Savvel, listen to me. Ignore her. Don’t let her bait you. It’ll make you look crazy.”
    “I’ll do my best,” he said dryly, but he appeared very agitated. He was wringing his hands.
    “ You should leave,” she said.
    “ I won’t. I want to hear what she says to them.”
    Sarid didn’t feel like arguing. “I’ll keep an eye on you.” She slipped past him.
    The little room was crowded. Count Pash’s wife was leaning over the bedside. “Tell me your name, my dear, so we might speak to each other as friends.”
    “ Thayelste, my lady,” said Yelse in a piteous voice. She was seated in her bed, bolstered upright by pillows.
    “ Thayelste? A strange name.”
    “ It means harbinger of vengeance.” Yelse began to weep softly. The act was so genuine Sarid felt pity stir in her breast. Then she scowled.
    “ No it doesn’t,” she said so everyone could hear. “It comes from a saebeline word. Means bottom ring of branches on a juniper tree.”
    The whole group turned to her and frowned as one. Yelse said, “You speak saebeline?” For the first time Sarid noticed Yelse’s eyes had somehow turned gold.
    Count Pash coughed, and Vanli whispered, “What’s she doing here? Make the girl worse.”
    Yelse’s eyes positively danced at this, but only Sarid noticed. Or perhaps Rischa did too, the way he gawped at her.  He looked as though he were inhaling Yelse’s breath and growing drunk.
    “Do you feel as though you could eat a bit, my dear?” said the countess. “I could have pottage sent up.”
    “ My lady,” said Yelse, “I believe I could grow strong on your kindness alone. I already feel hale as a warhorse.”
    Sarid’s derisive snort was hidden by kind laughter. The laughter continued even as a blur of flying dark hair and long limbs rushed through the doorway.
    “The whore!” Savvel screamed. He leapt on Yelse, his hands closed round her neck, and a breathless second went by. Then Rischa fell on him, and Pash, too, and they tried to jerk him back. It didn’t work. A few women shrieked, and Mari smacked Savvel across the head, but still he wouldn’t let go––even when Rischa drew blood and Vanli kicked him in the back.
    Sarid regained her wits. She pushed through and clenched a hand in Savvel’s thick hair.
    And then she was in his head, where Yelse, even while being choked, had a grin smeared across her skeletal, scabrous face.
    “ Your brother will snuffle for scraps at my feet,” she said to him. “He’ll wiggle like a beaten, lovesick dog before I’m through with him.”
    “ Savvel,” Sarid said, “Don’t listen to her. Let go.”
    Yelse was laughing. “You’re too late, Sarid. He’s spent his last coin.”
    “Let go,” pleaded Sarid. “You can’t help me if you’re chained to the wall.”
    Without loosening his hands he stared at Sarid.
    “Let go,” she said again.
    He seemed to come to himself. Yelse’s face became smooth and white, and he let go of her neck––there were red welts where his fingers had been.
    Sarid drew him back by the collar and off the bed. Rischa looked from Yelse to Savvel, more wild-eyed than his brother. Mari and the countess leaned over the bed to shield Yelse.
    “Come,” said Sarid to Savvel. “We must leave. Now.”
    She pushed Savvel through the door and slammed it shut.
    “I couldn’t crush her windpipe,” said Savvel, clenching and unclenching his hands.
    “ She’s a witch,” said Sarid. “Wind power runs in the family.”
    “ She’s your kin?”
    “ Did I say that?”
    “ No.”
    “ Good. You idiot. You’ve ruined the rest of your life. And mine, probably.”
    “ Who is she?”
    “ Stay away from her.”
    “ Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said bitterly. “They’re sure to lock me up.”
     
    ***
     
    He was right. He was locked