Sold Into Marriage by Sue Lyndon Page A

responsible for the fire.”
    Meadow felt colder and colder as she waited. She’d never known violence herself and had certainly never witnessed a hanging. She hadn’t been happy here in Monnaka, especially under her stepfather’s constant verbal abuses, but she’d been living in virtual ignorance of the evils of men. She’d never witnessed a war or any kind of battle, or a violent protest, only heard the stories. It chilled her to think that the world could be so dangerous.
    Relief filled her when she spotted Varron making his way down the hill, accompanied by the rest of his men. Because of his height—he was taller than any of his soldiers—it was easy to spot him. As he neared, she shuddered at the cold, hard look in his eyes. He glanced at her and then glared at his men. They all fell silent and stood straighter under his watchful eye.
    “Mount your horses. We leave now for Himma,” he shouted.
    Meadow said nothing as Varron helped her onto his horse. He mounted behind her and took the reins.
    She didn’t recognize the man who’d come down the hill. He seemed cold and radiated fury. Fear kept her from asking how many people from her village had been put to death this morning. The memory of the drums pounding at dawn put a knot in her stomach.
    She suddenly wished to be alone to collect her thoughts. An hour to visit her stream one last time would be nice, but she would never see the stream again. The burning in her throat increased. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was there, seated on the moss covered rock with her feet dangling in the cool water. She imagined the white eagle made an appearance too, taking flight from one of the branches above to soar up and beyond the trees.
    The noise of the men and the horses brought her back to reality. Varron’s arms were wrapped tight around her, and the heat from his body emanated against her, keeping her warm despite this chilly spring morning.
    They stopped at midday to water the horses, but other than that they rode straight until nightfall. Varron didn’t utter a word to her as they rode, and she now felt incredibly awkward in his presence and couldn’t stop fretting over the coming night. She stood by while his men erected the tents that hadn’t been burned, wondering if he’d claim her tonight and fearing he might hurt her this time. His black mood had made her increasingly uneasy as the day wore on.
    He guided her into a small tent and stood by the brazier while she got settled on the bedroll. The silence was making her queasy, and she hugged herself and dreaded Varron joining her.
    “Five men,” he finally said. He met her gaze. “Five men from your village were involved. They attempted to steal back the taxes that had been collected and were caught red-handed.”
    Meadow struggled to think of a proper response. She watched him warily. “I am glad you and all of your men are unharmed, Varron. I still can’t believe someone set all those fires. I’ve lived in Monnaka for five years and never witnessed such unrest among the villagers.”
    “Unrest?” he said, his tone hardening. “Attempting to kill King Baltus’ soldiers goes beyond unrest. Attempting to steal the crown’s money goes beyond unrest. I admit the king spends lavishly and I don’t always agree with his decisions, but he keeps all the lands under his authority safe from all enemies. The regions under his authority are constantly patrolled. We are living in a time of peace right now, but it hasn’t always been this way. You are probably too young to remember the Fifty Year War?”
    Meadow exhaled a shuddering breath. She didn’t want to argue with Varron, but it angered her that he had twisted her words. “If you think I agree with the villagers who set the fires, you are mistaken. Unrest. Violence. Treason. Call it what you will, but I do not condone it, and I meant it when I said I was glad no harm came to you today.”
    She had expected some of the tension to leave