Here we go again. Six Sunday and a chance to romp around the ‘net reading bits of fiction. There might not be as many authors as usual this week – it’s almost Christmas and anyone with a bit of sense will be scrubbing floors and stuffing poultry – but there will be a LOT.
I’ve almost run out of bits of A Fierce Reaping so I’m gong to leave you with a little bit where Cynfal’s plans begin to pay off. Gwion’s scrap with Moried was more dangerous than they thought and Cynfal managed to persuade Cynon that Gwion needed a 24/7 body guard. After that all it takes is for Gwon to have a nightmare on a particularly cold night.
Gwion shivered, whether from nerves or chill Cynfal didn’t much care, but made no violent objection when Cynfal gathered him in and put and arm across his waist.
“Better?” he asked.
Gwion’s “yes,” was a soft whisper that surely hadn’t needed the deep breath that preceded it. Slowly, a muscle at a time, Cynfal could feel the tension ebbing from his body, the taut belly softening under his hand, his spine curving to fit against Cynfal’s front. Cynfal drew him closer and Gwion lay against him, heavy and boneless as if he was asleep. His hand moved and covered Cynfal’s, gripped lightly then relaxed.
Merry Christmas everyone – see you post-pudding.