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Dreaded Horde..."
"Your sisters. What about your father?"
Kynyr felt increasingly trapped by the directness of Claw's questioning and
tried to remember what he might have told the chieftain in the past. The more
elaborate the lie, the harder it was to sustain it. "My father ... Branduff
Maguire ...
was a bastard."
"Was?"
"Is. He's alive and well."
"Who sired him?"
There it was. Staring him in the face and if he answered wrong Cahira would
never forgive him. Kynyr sucked in a breath and lied. "Todd Sinclair."
"Wrong answer. You don't look like a Sinclair."
Kynyr ran his hands through his hair. "I don't ... Cahira doesn't..." He
paused, swallowing. "She's a healer. She followed the soldiers."
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by Janrae Frank
170
Claw's expression hardened. "My sons were not identical.
Tarrant was blonde. Logan's hair was auburn. Was one of the soldiers she slept
with my son?"
"No, sir. She never met him. You can have me Read if you wish. I'm not a
Redhand. You aren't the first ... and you probably won't be the last ... to
see a resemblance between myself and your son. But I've been Read by experts,
and I
assure you, Claw. I'm not related to you. That's not Cahira's issue with your
family."
"Then what is?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry, but I don't know."
"Pick your unit." Claw looked suddenly tired and worn as he finished his
whiskey. "Kissie will show you to your rooms this evening."
"Thank you. Am I dismissed?"
"Yeah. Get out of here."
* * * *
Kynyr felt that his world had diminished and faded around him. He knew the
feeling would pass, yet he could not wrest his thoughts away from it. People
always assumed that female healers who traveled with the camps were sluts.
Some of them were and some of them were not. Kynyr had not wanted to smear his
grandmother's reputation that way, even though he knew that she had done so
herself when she fled
Wolffgard to protect the child she carried, Kynyr's father, Branduff. He loved
Cahira, and hated having to say anything that might hurt her reputation in the
eyes of others.
Serpent's Quest [Lycan Blood Vol. I]
by Janrae Frank
171
However, she had forbidden him, and the rest of his family, from telling
anyone the name of his grandfather except under direst circumstances. So he
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had had to do one hurtful thing to avoid doing another even worse.
Anger rose in Kynyr, displacing his initial distress, and he realized that if
he lingered in the manor that day he would soon be snapping at whatever
unwitting targets presented themselves. So instead, he saddled his horse and
rode into the village, looking for a place to spend his coins of anger in a
more socially acceptable manner.
When he finally freed himself from his brooding, Kynyr discovered that he had
ridden all the way to the Sanctuary
Refugee Camp without thinking. The sounds of laughter and shouts of
encouragement drew him deep into the camp.
The center was empty. No one was working. The sounds grew louder and he turned
toward them, wondering what had attracted the entire camp from their daily
labors. Kynyr rode north, past the corrals and barns, and that was when he saw
them. The females and their children had formed a large half-
circle on a cleared space the depth and breadth of the Great
Hall of the manor. A few trees dotted the cleared area, but all the rocks,
boulders, and brush had been removed from the center, leaving a half-moon of
trees, vines, and bushes on the far side. The opened a path for him as he
nudged his battle-
trained destrier through. The males, all lycan except for
Malthus, had formed the inner circle sitting on tree rounds and an oak log. A
long trestle table stood off to the side near the remaining woods, covered in
various kinds of practice
Serpent's Quest [Lycan Blood Vol. I]
by Janrae Frank
172
weapons made of weighted wood and ranging in kind from knives and swords to
axes and quarterstaves.
Kynyr dismounted and dropped his reins. Bucky had been trained not to wander
when the reins trailed the ground.
"Hey! It's the pretty boy." Torquil wiped his sweating brow on a towel and
dropped it in the hands of a female who then sniffed the towel and smiled at
Torquil appreciatively.
Kynyr nodded. Torquil took that as an invitation to approach him, although it
had actually just been acknowledging that there were bitches among the women.
A
lot of lycan customs were built around the act of sniffing.
"Come to try your hand, guardsmon?"
Malthus straightened to see past those gathered and a sly smile crossed his
lips. "Go a round with me? I'll show you how a kandoyarin fights."
Kynyr considered for an instant before answering, remembering the words of
Todd Sinclair that hot anger gets you killed and cold anger gets them killed.
"Why not?"
He unbuckled his sword belt and secured his blades to his saddle. Then he
walked over to the table and tested the practice weapons they had sitting
there.
Kynyr glanced at the others as he found a longsword that felt right in his
hands. None of the wolves wore padding. Most were stripped to the waist and
many sported bruises. Out of deference to Malthus, they appeared to have been
taking him and each other on in human form, rather than resorting to the
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