Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [198]
“This is what you brought us,” the man hissed. “This is your fault!”
Richard watched as others nodded their agreement, then turned his eyes on the man with the spear. His voice was gentle.
“If it eases your pain to think so, then blame me. I choose to blame the one whose hands have the blood on them.” He addressed the Bird Man and the other elders. “Until this is over, don’t use fire. It will only invite more killing. I swear to stop this man or die in the attempt. Thank you, my friends, for helping me.”
His eyes turned to Kahlan. They were intense, reflecting his anger over what he had just seen. He gritted his teeth. “Let’s go find this witch woman.”
They had no choice, of course. But she knew of Shota.
They were going to die.
They might as well go ask Darken Rahl to tell them where they could find the box.
Kahlan walked up to the Bird Man, then suddenly threw her arms around him.
“Remember me,” she whispered.
When they separated, the Bird Man looked around at the people, his face drawn. “These two need some men to guard them safely to the edge of our land.”
Savidlin stepped forward instantly. Without hesitation, a band of ten of his best hunters came to stand with him.
CHAPTER 29
Princess Violet turned suddenly and slapped Rachel’s face. Hard. Rachel had done nothing wrong, of course; the Princess just liked to slap her when she least expected it. The Princess thought it was fun. Rachel didn’t try to hide how much it hurt; if it didn’t hurt enough, the Princess would slap her again. Rachel put her hand over the sting, her bottom lip quivering, tears welling up in her eyes, but she said nothing.
Turning back to the shiny, polished wall of little wooden drawers, Princess Violet put her stubby finger through a gold handle and slid open another drawer, taking out a sparkling silver necklace studded with large blue stones.
“This one’s pretty. Hold my hair up.”
She turned to the tall wood-framed mirror, admiring herself as her fingers hooked the clasp behind her plump neck while Rachel held her long, dull, brown hair out of the way for her. Rachel eyed herself in the mirror, inspecting the red mark on her face. She hated looking at herself in the mirror, hated seeing her hair, how it looked when the Princess chopped it off short. She wasn’t allowed to let her hair grow, of course, she was a nobody, but she wished so much it could at least be cut even. Almost everyone else had their hair cut short, but it was even. The Princess liked chopping it for her, liked making it all jagged. Princess Violet liked it when other people thought Rachel was ugly.
Rachel shifted her weight to her other foot and rolled her free ankle around to ease its stiffness. They’d been in the Queen’s jewel room all afternoon, the Princess trying on one piece of jewelry after another, then primping and turning in front of the tall mirror. It was her favorite thing to do, trying on the Queen’s jewelry and looking at herself in the mirror. Being her playmate, Rachel was required to be with her, to make sure the Princess was enjoying herself. Dozens of the little drawers stood open, some a little, some a lot. Necklaces and bracelets hung halfway out of some, like sparkling tongues. More were scattered around the floor, along with brooches, tiaras, and rings.
The Princess looked down her nose and pointed to a blue stone ring on the floor. “Give me that one.”
Rachel slipped it over the finger held in front of her face; then the Princess watched herself in the mirror as she turned her hand this way and that. She ran her hand over her pretty pale blue satin dress, admiring the ring. Letting out a long, bored sigh, she walked over to the fancy white marble pedestal that stood by itself in