All Through The Knight by M. Jade Glock (big ebook reader TXT) 📖

or not?”

“I cannot say either, my lord, she is a prisoner, nothing more.”

Nealan regarded Moonrise thoughtfully. He thought it strange that all of a sudden his mentor was guarding his words, not saying everything that was going on in his head like he usually did. Something plagued his mind and Nealan had half a wit to ask him about it, but decided against it. Moonrise would tell him if was anything important that he needed to know, he was most likely collecting his thoughts on something. What that something was, he didn't know, but he could be patient at finding out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Aracane was escorted from the throne room she tried to block out her fears. She really couldn't decide whether or not life was worth living anymore. She absently touched her hair, the part of her that she had always prized the most, the only thing that made her feel beautiful in any way throughout her life, and they wanted to take it away, they wanted to cut it. She couldn't help but try and swallow down the emotions that threatened to leave her throat and assault her eyes with tears. She walked in between the guards.

“Where are you taking me?” She whispered, intimidated and unable to use her full voice.

The men by her sides ignored the question. They had no buisness talking to the likes of someone so far beneath them.  

Aracane was silent for the remainder of the time it took for them to escort her to her destination.

Once there they had handed her over to another male, the overseer of the living spaces. Before putting her into the care of the overseer there was much argument on how she was going to stay in the facility.

“But she's a woman!” The overseer complained.

“It's the highness' orders.” One guard said in his monotone voice again.

“Highness' orders my rear end, she can't stay here.” The overseer protested, trying desperately to plead his case.

One of the guards had come in close to the overseer then. “Need I remind you that our highness, Nealan, is acting king, cross him and your head is likely to roll with the temper he has on him.”

The overseer had shrunk back at the statement. He, as well as everyone else, knew all too well the things that the prince was capable of. Just the slightest of irritation could send him over the edge and he, just like everyone else, liked his head on his neck and shoulders right where they were suppose to be.

The overseer sighed a sigh of defeat. “Where am I to keep her then?”

“That wasn't for us to figure out, you're responsible for her now. I advise that you take good care of her, or else.”

With the intimidating statement, both guards walked away, chatting and laughing to each other as they made their way back to the castle.

The overseer looked Aracane up and down. Without a word to her, he shoved her into the building.

The barracks seemed to be empty and Aracane's stomach began to settle, thinking that this might not be so bad.

“Don't get too comfortable, the men arrive in the evening. They don't have enough time throughout the day to be lazy louts.” He pushed Aracane along, guiding her, or more like herding her, towards the kitchen.

Once he had her sit down on a stool in the kitchen he grabbed a small parring knife from the counter and immediately started hacking away at her raven hair.

“I'm no barber, but this will just have to do.”
Aracane bit her lip, trying her best to keep the nauseating feeling in her stomach at bay. It was hard when the thing you treasured most was being thrown to the floor in forgotten heaps.

“Now,” the Overseer interrupted her loss, “I can't have you running around and the men getting a look at you, it's distracting."

The man stroked his chin, thinking of what to do about Aracane. He knew that he couldn't keep her at the barracks what with all of the men running the place. It took him a little bit to finally come up with the answer.

"I will take you to the convent just outside the castle walls. That is where you will live with others of your kind." He looked her up and down with disgust. Women were hardly favored in this world of men.

Aracane just stared at the floor, touching her shorn head. She barely even heard the man beside her.

"Are you even listening to me?" The man grabbed her by the hair, or what was left of it, and threw her to the ground.

"You're a worthless little thing!" He yelled at her. He backhanded her across the head.

"Keep your hands off of her." Another male's voice boomed throughout the kitchen. Aracane looked at her attacker and saw the color drain from his face. Aracane turned to the doorway and saw the man that stood next to the prince in the throne room. Aracane was filled with fear and averted her eyes away from the knight's gaze.

"M-M-Moonrise, I-" the Overseer stuttered.

"Captain James Moonrise." James corrected sternly.

The overseer froze, afraid of what the other man might do.

"I don't condone attacking women, accused or not." Moonrise's voice was filled with authority.

The overseer fidgeted and constantly looked around the room.

"S-she is in my care, I am to do with her as I see fit," his stuttering continued.

Moonrise walked over and stood in front of the much smaller man. This wasn't normal from James. With any other circumstance he would have left well enough alone and had not even thought twice about meddling in the punishment of an accused, but with this one he couldn't stay away. Women were never accused of anything, much less murder. It just didn't sit right with Moonrise.

"And you see fit to degrade and humiliate her?" Moonrise's voice rose, he was yelling at the man now.

Tears began to spill forth from Aracane's eyes, she was afraid and didn't know what to do. The only solution to her seemed to be crying. Moonrise stopped for a moment and looked at the woman who hid her face and sat huddled on the floor. He immediately regretted distressing her further. The captain let out a sharp sigh and turned to the overseer.

"She is no longer in your care, I will take her."

The overseer objected to this instantly. "If the highness finds out, I will surely be killed."

"Nothing of the sort will happen to you, I will take full responsibility. If anyone's head is to roll this day, or any other day concerning this matter, that head will be mine." Moonrise answered him firmly.

Moonrise then lifted Aracane to her feet. She flinched at his touch but there was no escaping his grip. Moonrise guided her through the hall and outside the building. Being saved like this should have comforted Aracane, but it did no such thing. She was only more afraid than she was before. Her cries became sobs and she was nothing but a grimy, filthy, wet mess.

Chapter III

Nealan had a long day. He never could have made it without Moonrise by his side and he knew it. He owed that man so much that he couldn't even begin to imagine what it would take to repay him. Moonrise had been like a father to him growing up, much more than his biological father had. Nealan resented the King, he never seemed to have given his own son the time of day. He was forced to be raised by tutors, governess's, and teachers, all of which never cared for him. They couldn't handle his fiery temper and were never able to make him into a young man of manners and respect. How could he when his own father seemed to have hated him?

Nealan's mother had been lost the very day he was born. The arduous labor had left her exhausted and sick. Her system couldn't handle the hard task, so she fell to a fever and rested, never to awaken again. A part of Nealan always felt that his father hated him for her death, associating it somehow to being his fault.

Nealan walked the halls to his chamber's. After such a long day he was exhausted. He insisted that he be alone when going to his room and that no one was to disturb him. He had a lot on his mind, and even though his eyelids were heavy with fatigue his mind was reeling and wide awake.

Entering his chamber he took his time undressing. A fire had been prepared making the room warm, it also carried the scent of cedar, a fragrance that calmed Nealan's nerves and relaxed his muscles. Stripped down to just his pants, he sat in front of the blaze that was contained in the stone fireplace. The heat that the flames emanated warmed his skin. He closed his eyes, breathing in deep. He liked how there was no other sounds surrounding him other than the crackling of the fire and his own breathing. It was a much different setting than the throne room that was filled with giggling courtiers and expressionless prisoners waiting for their sentence. Nealan's thoughts began to wander back to the point when that woman had come before him.

"Aracane," he whispered out into the room. Her name fell naturally from his lips.

His curiosity about her was almost to the bursting point. What he had wanted to do in the first place was to see her at the barracks, where he assumed that she would be, he wasn't sure what he would have done when he got there, he just knew that he wanted to know more about her. There was something drawing him to her and he didn't know what. The only thing that kept him away from her was the fact that he had been busy all day with the Accused.

Nealan rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, wanting to welcome sleep yet ward it off at the same time. There was something intriguing, something different about this Aracane girl. He couldn't put his finger on it.

Moonrise's words came flooding back to him again.

“Don't get too attached, sire, she is an accused.”

Nealan clenched his teeth, making a visible muscle that protruded from his jaw. He remembered his embarrassment, though he didn't know what for. He could be interested or look at any girl that he pleased. Nealan didn't take much of a liking to having to be told what to do, even by Moonrise