Shade of Destiny (The Foreseeing) by Shannon M Yarnold Page B

that was too expensive and supplies of poor quality, for there was no other way to clothe and feed themselves under the Master’s rule. Crops were grown and divided unfairly, the Master and soldiers receiving a share that was not earned and that would be better off feeding the ill, elderly and young. Wynn tried not to feel guilty when she entered the small shops, run by families, which offered a business, home and livelihood, and paid for the supplies with the money given to her by Cook; but the glances from overworked women were hard to ignore.
         Her basket was soon overflowing with supplies and Wynn allowed herself a sigh of relief that the whole trip had passed without mishap. But she had not moved around the town unnoticed. The army had been watching her, they knew almost every woman in the town and they could not recall this young girl with hair as black as night and eyes as beautiful as emeralds. One soldier could not quell his curiosity any longer and as Wynn finished checking her basket and looked up she locked eyes with the man. He was no older than she and yet she knew his type. She had met many like him over the years, the arrogance of youth and the need to impress those around them. This was a dangerous situation. She ripped her eyes from his and hung her head and tried to curl up in an uninteresting ball, but the soldier had his eyes locked on her and was not about to waiver now.
         Wynn glanced around, to see if anyone had noticed the lone soldier walking her way, and it was clear from the cruel smiles of the army that whatever was about to happen, the other soldiers completely supported their comrade. The young soldier reached her and she could see the boyish stubble on his chin, and the roundness that still inhabited his face, he was immature not only in attitude it seemed.
         “Raise your head,” he growled. Wynn complied reluctantly; taking the opportunity to once again scan the face of the man. He in turned studied her, making no attempt to mask his assessment. Wynn felt her skin crawl at his attentions, and when he snatched the basket roughly from her and went through it, she found herself preparing to run. He found nothing of interest, as Wynn knew he would, he had to keep some pretence of duty; he could not do outright what Wynn knew he was thinking. The people would not stand for it, and the inhabitants well outnumbered the army. He shoved the basket back at her, winding her and Wynn hurriedly curtseyed and went to walk away. The soldier grabbed her arm, and Wynn was pulled away from the commotion of the town and down an alley.
         She had been expecting it, but it did not stop her heart from thumping in her chest and mouth becoming uncomfortably dry. She had always managed to avoid men, being saved either by circumstance, the need to refill a glass, or tend to the Master, but now she was not in the Manor and no one would save her.
          “Who do you work for?” The young man asked curiously, he would not have missed her maid’s outfit; some of the army were rich enough for servants and a brown dress and white apron was the uniform of any woman who served.
          “Lord Oprend,” Wynn croaked, her tongue felt heavy and it was as though she had swallowed a mouthful of grit. It was all she could do not to burst into tears.
          The soldier frowned, “Why have you not been marked?”
         Wynn could feel herself shaking, going over every single option she had, if she screamed it could attract attention, but what man or woman would stand up for her, to a soldier? What would happen if she fought back? He would become enraged certainly, but what would be the repercussions? She knew he had spoken to her, and asked a question but her mind was clouded with the horrific events that were unfolding. The soldier laughed cruelly and stepped closer to her. His breath was warm on her face and the hand that clutched her arm, keeping her in place, was gripping