MIDNIGHT CONQUEST: Book 1 of the Bonded By Blood Vampire Chronicles Read Online Free Page A

served her station well, Davina loved the older girl more like a sister.
    Borrowing her mother’s idea, Davina dragged Rosselyn along to peruse the wares of the tents, searching to buy gifts for her family. A particularly fine boot dagger caught her eye. The Gypsy pulled the small blade from the sheath. “A splendid blade for a lady such as yourself,” he pressured.
    “Oh, ‘tis not for me, but for my brother,” Davina countered.
    “Ah, a fine weapon to tuck into his boot! See the silver inlaid designs down the blade?”
    “‘Tis truly silver?” Davina lifted the boot dagger and studied the decorative, Celtic designs swirling down the narrow blade.
    “Aye! A work of art.” When he told her the price, she squirmed. “Real silver, I promise.”
    She handed the blade back, but the silversmith wouldn’t take it. He glanced around, and then conspiratorially whispered a lower price. Not much lower, but enough. Davina surrendered her coin.
    Rosselyn tugged on Davina’s sleeve. “Look, Davina,” she said pointing to an aging woman. The Gypsy had a long silver braid and a scarlet scarf covering her head.
    The woman beckoned to them. She sat beside a canvas tent painted with an impressive scene of a fair-haired woman sitting behind a table displaying a spread of tablets. Stars, moons and other strange symbols Davina didn’t recognize floated around the woman’s cascading blonde hair. “What are her services, do you suppose?” Davina whispered in awe.
    Rosselyn glanced across the circle of tents and wagons toward their mothers. Lilias and Myrna stood before an array of ribbons draped over the arms of a man. Grabbing Davina’s hand, a wide grin spread on Rosselyn’s thin lips and a sparkle of mischief touched her hazel eyes. “Come!”
    Davina struggled to keep up as Rosselyn tugged at her hand, and they ran until they stood breathless before the Gypsy woman.
    “Eager to have your fortune told, I see,” the Gypsy chimed in her lovely French accent, and waved a wrinkled hand toward the tent flap. “Only one at a time, s’il vous plaît .”
    “You go first, Roz,” Davina encouraged.
    Rosselyn stepped toward the tent opening, and then stopped. Turning back she glanced between Davina and the Gypsy. “She is not to go anywhere.” Diverting her eyes back to Davina, she pointed a scolding finger. “You stay right here, you understand? Your mother will have my head on a pike if you wander off without me.”
    The woman grasped Davina’s hand and rubbed it affectionately with her warm touch. “Fear not, mademoiselle , I will guard her with my life as we share some tea.” Ushering Davina to a small stool beside the fire, Rosselyn seemed content with this arrangement and rushed into the tent, anxious for her session.
    “You enjoy tea, oui ?” The woman glanced at Davina’s palm. “I am Amice.”
    “My name is Davina,” she answered in French. As was customary in the Scottish courts, Davina had studied French, even though her family’s court connections were somewhat distant. “And yea, I would be most grateful for a cup of tea.” A broad grin spread across Amice’s mouth as Davina spoke the old woman’s native tongue, and Davina watched as the Gypsy studied her hand, squinting at the lines. “What is it you see?”
    Amice shrugged, rubbed the center of Davina’s palm and grinned up at her. Youthful eyes gazed back at Davina amongst the wrinkles of time settling on her face. “My eyes are old and I see nothing. You will have your palm read, yea?”
    “My palm read?” Davina scrunched her eyebrows together. “You can read a palm like one reads a book?
    Amice waved her hand dismissively. “In a manner of speaking.” She gently urged Davina to sit and, before taking her own stool, handed Davina two clay cups. Davina placed her brother’s gift upon her lap to free her hands. Amice reached behind and grabbed a small basket. Sprinkling some tea leaves into the cups, she put the basket aside. From the