Page 29 of Midnight Shadow

She threw herself down upon the bed. If only she could make Kenric and that deceitful Knowles pay for their vile behavior.

Her hand brushed something soft, and she glanced down to see she was sitting on the black velvet she’d bought from the merchant. She picked up the material and held the fabric against her face, then draped it across her shoulders and leaped on the bed. “I am the Midnight Shadow,” she said softly, striking a pose with her hands on her hips. A feeling of power and righteousness filled her , a feeling very similar to what she’d felt after giving the poor farmer the coin in the village of Knowles.

She’d felt so full of confidence that she could make a difference, a confidence renewed when Garret had shown her how to win the fight with her grandfather... and it worked! Because of her new assuredness, she was able to defeat him. She felt strong and unbeatable, confident enough to take on the world.

Then the questions came from deep inside her, questions which now repeated themselves over and over in her mind: Confident enough to take on the world, yes. But confident enough to avenge Mary’s death? Confident enough to stop Kenric’s reign of terror over helpless farmers and merchants? Confident enough to wage a secret war against that monster Terran Knowles?

She stared at the midnight moon and thought of a different kind of midnight, one in human form. The Midnight Shadow would know what to do.

Bria shook her head and lowered her hand so that the fabric fell from her face and shoulders. The feeling of confidence and strength that had surged through her faded. He was only a legend, not someone real. Yet why couldn’t someone become the Midnight Shadow to give the people hope?

She dropped to the bed. I could be the Midnight Shadow, she thought for a fleeting moment. Then a wistful smile crossed her lips. She could be, if she were more courageous. Then an idea came to her. Maybe she couldn’t be the Midnight Shadow, but she could help the people that Knowles and his men harmed, starting with Mary’s mother.

The sun was just rising over the horizon as Mary’s mother, Sandra, walked back toward her house, carrying a bucket of water from the stream. She’d awakened early to begin work in the fields. The days of searching for Mary had cost them dearly. She and her husband, George, hadn’t worked the fields while they had been out looking for her. To make up for it, they’d worked through two full days and two full nights.

Then disaster struck. Exhausted, George fell sick.

Now Sandra had to work the farm alone until George was well. She doubted they’d have enough crops to pay Sheriff Kenric and survive the winter.

She lifted her gaze from the ground to the house. A shadow shifted behind one of the trees in the forest just beyond the small thatched house. Panic seized her. Robbers, she thought. Or worse yet, tax collectors.

She dropped the bucket and raced toward the house, calling, “George!” Her heart pounded as she thought of him hurt inside. She couldn’t live if something happened to George. She couldn’t bear it.

Sandra shoved the door open and almost hit George in the face.

“What?” he asked, startled by her urgent tone. “What is it?” He leaned heavily on the table in the center of the room.

Relief swept through Sandra, but she stepped outside to look for the shadow. Had it been an animal of some sort? A witch?

“What’s that?” George asked, pointing at the ground.

There by her feet, in the dirt just before the door, was a small bag. She bent and scooped it up. The faint clink of coins reached her ears and she cast a glance at George. His brown eyes were wide and he gripped the table for support.

Sandra pulled the string on the bag. Slowly, it opened in her hands. The sight that greeted her made her breath stop. She clutched at her chest.

George joined her, taking the bag from her hand. He dumped the contents into his open palm. It was gold, more than he could have made from his harvest!

Sandra looked for the person who left the bag, for the shadow she’d seen in the forest, but no one was in sight. Her eyes shifted to the money in her husband’s hands.

Slowly, a smile lit George’s face and laughter began to churn from his throat.

Sandra sat heavily in a wooden chair, staring at the gold coins. Relief and exhilaration surged through her. They’d survive. They’d live through the winter. Sandra felt wetness on her cheeks and lifted a hand to swipe at the cool moisture. She was crying, but not tears of sadness. They were tears of relief and gratitude.

Chapter twelve

Bria pulled her knees to her chest, watching the knights practice their skills in the field. She’d felt a strange satisfaction in watching from behind some trees as Mary’s mother found the pouch she’d left. The warm feeling still lingered. She was sorry for taking it from her father and fixing the books so he wouldn’t notice it missing. But Mary’s family needed it more than her family, and she’d vowed to repay her father... somehow.

If she was going to continue helping the people, she needed to figure out some other way to get money and another way of helping Knowles’ people besides giving them coin.

Bria winced as one of the young knights tumbled from his horse after being hit by his opponent’s lance. Dark clouds brewed on the horizon, threatening rain since the early morning, but Bria had ignored them, choosing to come out and watch the men practice in the tilting yard.

“You seem particularly offended by my presence.”

Bria glanced up and saw Lord Knowles standing above her. Despite her vow of anger, she felt a moment of breathlessness.

He looked at his hands as he pulled on a pair of black gloves. His black hair fell forward, obscuring her view of his face except when a breeze blew his hair aside. He wore a black tunic beneath his chest plate and black leggings over his powerful legs. Behind him, his ebony horse whinnied softly, tossing its mane. Bria shook herself. “I wasn’t the one who refused to see you when I came to your castle,” she retorted.

He shifted his dark gaze to her, snapping on his second glove.