Lady Knight: Book 4 of the Protector of the Small Quartet
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Kel has finally achieved her lifelong dream of being a knight. But it’s not turning out as she imagined at all. She is torn between a duty she has sworn to uphold and a quest that she feels could turn the tide of war. . . .
“Unrelentingly realistic in its depiction of the horrors of war . . . Pierce provides exquisite details of the weaponry, topography, and culture of her world, and her control of a voluminous cast of characters is masterful.”
wept silently: Kel saw the glitter of tears in the faint torchlight. Meech wasn’t the only one to seize her in a frantic hug. Kel kissed the heads of any she could reach and traded handclasps with the rest. Here came Agrane and the convict soldiers with the infants. The youngest children made no sound, either. Neal had given Agrane drops to make them sleep until dawn. The dogs swarmed around them as they descended the stair. Kel waved the remaining servants in and hand-signed slowly, making
age. Most immortals were peaceful neighbors who didn’t seek fights, since they could be killed by accident, magic, and weapons, but some were none too friendly. George watched Aly with pride. She’d had an aptitude for codes and translations since she was small, regarding them as games she wanted to win. She had treated the arts of the lock pick, the investigator, the pickpocket, the lip reader, the tracker, and the knife wielder in the same way, stubbornly working until she knew them as well as
to eat. She was about to go to her room when someone came in. A servant rushed forward to take his wet things; the innkeeper followed to see what the new guest required. The newcomer was a big fellow, a knight from his tunic badge, with red curly hair and gray eyes. Kel froze. It was Cleon of Kennan, her sweetheart. But something was wrong. She looked at him and saw a brawny knight she knew. Where was the joy of looking at him that she had felt the last time they met? Cleon was as attractive as
“Of course, Neal is ready—” “Mithros save us, they’ll allow just any freak of nature up here, won’t they?” a familiar male voice proclaimed. Kel, Merric, and Neal turned to see the speaker. One of the sledge guards, a tall, broad-shouldered young man, dismounted from his horse. Bright blue eyes blazed and a broad grin flashed in a face splattered with mud. Under other mud Kel could see the familiar tunic, chain mail, and arm-band of a sergeant in the King’s Own. “Meathead!” he called, handing
knew what this was just the same. Rather than choose one or the other man and put an end to the problem, this girl had let them go at it with their fists to prove she was desirable. It was in the way she stood hugging herself, her brown eyes eager as the men lurched to their feet. Kel had seen enough. As the brawlers grabbed each other in bear hugs, she strode in. They were big, strong fellows, but she’d spent eight years strengthening her arms and learning the right time and place to attack.