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Excerpt:
He couldn't tear
his gaze away from the maiden. Comely she was and she stood up to
Aethelbald. Nay, she was a Mercian princess. His enemy. He may have
to kill her one day so he could not think of her as a woman. But
how could he not? His mouth dropped open.
"I have to pull
out the arrow." She turned toward a servant. "Bring ale." Then she
looked at Blaise. "Drink to lessen the pain."
"Pull it now," he
said for the pain bolstered his courage.
"Nay. You will drink
first." Her crisp tone showed she was used to giving commands. She
held a goblet brimmed with ale to his lips. "Drink."
She called for another
goblet and poured some of the ale on his wound. He gritted his teeth
to keep from cringing at the sting.
"I know it hurts."
Her tone was tender.
"Nay," he answered
curtly. "It does not hurt!"
Now she rolled her
eyes and shook her head at him. Then she took a hot poker from the
fire and set it against the flames.
Two guards held
him down by his arms with his neck still chained to the wall.
She took a deep
breath. "Ready?"
He nodded.
She yanked out the
arrow stub. He would not yell out, yet he could not stop his eyes
from watering from the pain. Ricole then laid the hot poker against
the wound to stop the bleeding. The burning scent of his own flesh
turned his stomach. He closed his eyes, shutting his gaze from her
for the first time.
A servant brought
another goblet of golden ale which Blaise drank. Then he handed
the empty cup to the princess. He gazed once more into her large
blue eyes. That was the last thing he saw before he passed out.
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